Writer’s Block Follows Me Like A Shadow

I’m a loser who writes abt a lot of rarepairs and whump on ao3 ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ || prompts are closed || focusing on Dispatch

[sadiewritingco]

My main is @sadiecoocoo I post a lot of general fandom stuff as well some polls and posts relating to my fics

If you’d ever like to be tagged in a fic please don’t be afraid to ask! I’m always happy to do it

Please note that most masterlists are unfinished as I’m currently redesigning this blog. Older fics will be reposted as well in this new style while the original posts will likely be deleted

Masterlists - in progress

DC

Dispatch

Stranger Things

The Expanse

The Dragon Prince

[sadiewritingco]

Hi, I was wondering if your writing prompts are still open. If they are, then I would love a spideyfist one shot with the prompt being transformation, either physical or mental, with as mush angst as you want. Maybe some wolf spider if you feel like it. Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night.

I’m so sorry but my writing prompts are closed (I can barely make myself finish one of my own fics I couldn’t trust myself to finish prompts lol)

It’s a neat idea though, thanks for sending it in :)

[sadiewritingco]

A Burning Heart - Chapter Two

Summary - A bit more time passes in camp, but soon King Ezran and those who accompanied him to Lux Area return to the devastation of Katolis

Chapter - 2/?       Chapter Word Count  - 3,980/? 

Chp 1 – Next  

AO3 

yay the plot is plotting!!

Not much to say about this one other than I made it so it's longer before the rest of the dragang got to Katolis because there is no way they could all fly that fast.

Also Corvus is here now :D

Soren sat in front of the fire, its warmth tickled his cheeks as he gazed into the flames. There was chatter around him, other guards laughing and eating after a successful day. Their prattle was in stark contrast to the usually talkative crownguard, as Soren sat silently.

He lazily scratched at his vambrace, pushing against the fabric under the plate of armor. He blinked slowly as the flames flickered in front of him. A few embers blew into the air as someone poked at the fire.

He took in a deep breath, smelling the acrid scent of smoke as he inhaled it. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth engulf him. A thin layer of sweat covered his face, from both the long day and the heat he felt now.

Someone elbowed him in the side, startling him. He blinked and looked at the culprit, a guard with a wide smile and loud laugh. He wasn't looking at Soren, no one was. Everyone was engrossed in their own conversation, leaving Soren's strange behavior unnoticed.

The crownguard cleared his throat and laughed awkwardly along. He grabbed his bowl of soup, forgotten on the ground and left to cool. He grimaced as he took in a long sip of the broth, not cold enough to be discarded, but not warm enough to taste good.

The other guard's conversations continued, their teasings constant, just as they would be in the dining hall of Katolis. Soren smiled halfheartedly as someone placed their hand on his shoulder for support. Soon, Soren's boisterous laugh joined in with the others, making the night just a bit more lively.

It wasn't until the moon was high that the excitement started to die down. As people quieted and gathered their things, readying for bed, Soren cleared his throat.

"I want another hunting party tomorrow," He declared, nodding towards Corvus' trackers. He was grateful for the specially trained guards, and even more so for Corvus' foresight to train them. "We ate good tonight, keep it up." He raised his now empty bowl high in the air for a farewell toast, the other guards did similarly.

Then, Soren made his way to his own tent. Hat was sitting in the center of his sleeping bag, already fast asleep. The knight sat on the edge of the bag as to not disturb the baitling.

He slowly unbuckled the straps to his armor. He hadn't taken it off since before the attack. It had grown heavy with his fatigue. His usual ritual, carefully and reverently placing each piece in its rightful spot, had been abandoned in his exhaustion— not that there was place to store his armor anymore.

once he freed himself from his chestplate, he stretched his arms above his head, causing a satisfying pop to fill the silence. Then he stretched his legs out, leaning forward until he could touch his toes. He let out a soft groan as he sat back.

Soren wiped the sweat and grime from his brow. He hadn't washed in days either, aside from Opeli giving his face a quick splash of water before bandaging his head. He yearned for a nice, warm bath and the feeling of a rough washcloth gliding across his skin.

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling any tangles he found. He thought of another's hands pulling at his hair, gently working through any knots with care and near reverence. He thought of those hands with callouses from the wilderness, experienced and efficient.

Soren's breath hitched as his fingers caught on a rather painful tangle. He picked at it for a moment, but eventually decided it was futile and let his hands fall into his lap.

He unbuckled his vambraces and greaves, letting the metal plates fall onto the ground with a clatter. Hat awoke with a squeak, and Soren patted his head to soothe the little glow toad back to sleep. He then stripped himself of the rest of his armor until all that was left were his trousers, dark undershirt, and gloves.

As he pulled dug his fingers under his right glove to pull it off, he let out a yelp as he felt an intense burning feeling. He tore the glove off to see a large bruise covering his forearm to his wrist. He hissed as he pressed his thumb against the dark skin.

He supposed he should get Opeli to take a look at it, but a little voice that usually whispered bad ideas reminded him of how busy she was already. Besides, he hadn't noticed the injury aside from a bit of an itch, even then he hadn't really noticed until now.

Hat made an inquiring noise beside him, butting against Soren's leg. The crownguard smiled, scratching at the baitling's head. Hat rolled over onto his back, letting Soren rub his belly like he would to a puppy. He cooed at the baitling, feeling his spirits lift.

After giving Hat as much love and affection as he could, he finally settled, laying down on his back. He lifted Hat up and placed him on Soren's chest. The glowtoad spun in a circle and curled up.

Soren gazed at the top of his tent a moment. He rubbed the bruise on his arm. Only a hint of pressure felt like a sharp thorn. He let out a quiet groan ending in a huff.

He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come swiftly. He put his hands behind his head, thinking that having them trapped might stop his fidgeting. He made a popping noise with mouth before clamping his teeth down.

Then his whole body sagged in defeat. He sat up swiftly, shocking Hat back awake. He grabbed one of his gloves and shoved it over his hand and forearm, covering that ugly bruise.

Content that he might stop moving for a moment, he laid back down. Hat settled again, and Soren placed his uncovered hand on the glowtoad. He took in a deep breath, his chest rising as his lungs filled, then released it with a long sigh.

As sleep finally approached the knight, his arm itched.

---

Soren hummed softly to himself as he made the rounds. He checked on many civilians, popping his head into their tents and rushing on to the next. He got any slacking guards to work; though most had learned that now was no time to be chatting it up anyway.

Mostly, he wandered to and from the medical tent. Opeli gave him several orders to find supplies, food, or more helpers. He was completely at the woman's mercy, following any orders given and taking any scoldings for failing to do so.

It was on one of these errands that a new problem arose.

The day was young, the sun just peaking over the horizon and lightening the sky. He didn't think Opeli had slept much, and he had woken up early to a numb arm, alight with pins and needles. The two had met at a lone, dead campfire, a routine they'd shared for the past week.

Opeli gave him a report from the night. A few people were able to leave the tent, having recovered enough to manage on their own— Soren would be sure to check on them when he could— and there were no new casualties. It seemed as though they'd made it past the worst of it, with most being on the road to recovery.

After, they went their separate ways, with Opeli giving Soren a new list of items to gather. Cloth was still an issue, with old bandages having to be reused, leading to a risk of infection. He would make another trip back to Katolis in hopes of finding some scraps he'd missed before.

However, as he was moving to the edge of the camp, ready to leave, he was met with something he wasn't sure he would be able to handle on his own.

There was a group of three guards huddled at the side of a tent, hidden in its shadow. They were muttering in hushed tones, just barely loud enough to catch Soren's attention.

"All I'm saying is that he wasn't there!" One hissed, a guard Soren recognized. His name was Vance, a new recruit whose first battle must have been Sol Regem's attack. Soren pace faltered as he heard him.

"Who saved the people from that dragon?" He paused, "Us! Not some boy king who can't even stay in his kingdom for a month. And now, after keeping everyone alive, we're stuck doing chores?" Vance leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Tell you what, if anyone should be king it should be a guard, someone who knows the struggle of battle and still has to face the aftermath."

As he had continued his speech, Soren had made his silent approach. Something boiled inside his blood, a deep, hot rage that longed for release.

He grabbed the traitorous guard by the hair, wrenching his head back to force his gaze to meet Soren's own. Vance stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"You made an oath to protect King Ezran and the people of Katolis!" Soren yelled, "No one could have known about the attack, and your King was on a diplomatic journey to Xadia!" He roughly let go of Vance, pushing him into the arms of one his accomplices.

"You're stuck doing chores because you have a duty to keep these people alive." He jabbed a finger against Vance's chest, pushing him further and further back until he was cornered by the tent he hid behind. "These people provide for us, they give us lives of luxury in the castle, giving up so much so we can protect them when they need it. If you don't understand that then you have no right to the armor you wear!"

Soren took in a breath. He glared at the guard, his gaze roaming over each of them with a fire they hadn't held since Katolis burned. He turned back down to Vance, looking down on him with a controlled disdain. He towered over the young guard.

"You would do well to be grateful that Ezran is your King." He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I doubt many others would be as merciful as he is, especially not one who knows the struggle of battle?"

Then, Soren stood straighter. He addressed the other two knights with a much cooler voice, "you two are on cleaning duty, I don't want to see a single piece of scrap or trash when I return." The two saluted quickly, then ran away, kicking up dust behind them.

"And you," he rounded on Vance, "I want you to go to the medical tent, tell Opeli exactly why I sent you, and you will do anything and everything she tells you to."

"Yes, captain," Vance answered with a quavering voice.

After the guard's terrified affirmation, Soren turned to leave, stalking back towards the edge of the camp. He felt warm, he wiped sweat from the back of his neck and his brow. His vision blanked for a moment with the crash of adrenaline and he paused to steady himself.

He shook his head roughly, running a hand through his hair. He hissed as his right arm ached from the movement, and he squeezed at his vambrace only to met with another wave of pain. Maybe he should get Opeli to check on his arm— but that could wait until later, it wouldn't do him any good to check an injury when they didn't have any bandages for it.

Soren stumbled his way towards his horse, a lightly colored steed with a gentle gaze that matched his demeanor. As he mounted, he thought how much he'd rather be atop Pyrrah. He longed to feel the wind through his hair, with Hat holding onto him desperately, as if Soren would ever let the baitling fall.

But the fiery dragon was not here. It was for the better, the people needed a bit of distance from the great lizards. Soren himself didn't know how he might react to hearing the loud flapping of wings as a massive shadow fell over the camp.

He lightly kicked at his horse, snapping the reins to get him moving. The steed rushed through the forest towards the ruins of Katolis, where smoke still clouded the sky.

---

Soren did not expect to find anyone among the rubble. He couldn't say he was glad to see Callum though, hunched over himself and sobbing in disbelief. He would much rather have had no one else in the world see what the once great kingdom of Katolis had become.

Soren walked cautiously over to the mage. He crouched down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Callum turned to him with a broken gaze, begging for answers.

"I'm sorry," Soren whispered, his throat suddenly becoming very soar. "I tried to stop it— to save everyone," he squeezed Callum's shoulder, "but there was nothing—" A sob broke through, "there was nothing I could do."

He wrapped his arms tightly around Callum, who held onto him just as tightly. Soren stuffed his face into the mage's scarf before thinking better of it. He clamped his mouth tightly shut as Callum let out a loud sob.

They held each other for a long time. The sun had reached high into the sky by the time either of them let go. After they had, it seemed they drifted further apart. Soren left Callum to process a bit more.

He rummaged around the rubble, working on what he had planned from the start. He would glance back towards Callum, where he was still sitting in the dirt with a little dragon plush clutched tightly in his hands.

Soren thought of his own toy. He hadn't really thought of it since he was a child, when he would pretend to slay the dragon with a training sword he'd stolen from the armory, and then hug it tightly at night when no one would see save for Claudia. It wasn't until a few months after the battle at the storm spire that he found it again locked away in a dark, dusty closet.

He supposed it was long gone now. There would be no more snuggling or slaying with that old thing. He hoped that it at least hadn't completely burned away. Maybe someday, some kid would find it while exploring the ruins of old Katolis.

Soren sat down on a stone brick, heaving a sigh. First they had to survive these next few months. It would be a long time before the attack would be anything but children's tales.

He ran his hands down his face, letting out a soft groan. The day had gotten hotter, despite it being late fall. The sun was still as relentless as any summer's day.

Soren considered taking off his armor, at least for a moment. The heavy gear, as comforting as it was, left every movement with much more work than needed. Maybe he should forgo putting on layers beneath it, it wasn't too practical to wear his pajamas underneath it anyway.

The crownguard glanced back towards Callum. The mage had gotten to his feet. He was looking up into the sky, his hands raised to block the sun. Soren followed his gaze to see two familiar creatures soaring through the sky.

He let out a rough laugh as the twin-tailed inferno-tooth tigers landed. Someone that Soren hadn't imagined he'd see for a far longer time rushed towards him, arms stretched out wide with an even wider smile.

"When we got the news, I worried you were dead!" Corvus laughed, pausing in front of Soren. His arms lowered as he looked the knight over.

Soren grabbed Corvus' shoulders and pulled him in tightly. The tracker wasted no time in holding him back.

"No way, man! I totally would have told you if I died." Soren stuff his face into Corvus' scarf, something he'd been longing to do for days.

"No, Soren," Corvus sighed, "You wouldn't have."

Soren laughed, the sound muffled by the scarf. He couldn't bring himself to push away, despite the presence of others around. He took in shaky breath, digging his fingers into Corvus' back, pulling at the fabric.

"Oh yeah," He laughed wetly as Corvus led him away, "I guess I wouldn't."

They moved away from the others, Soren having his arm wrapped comfortably around Corvus' shoulder. They stopped once passing through the gate and turning a corner. Soren grabbed onto Corvus' arms tightly as his legs started to shake.

"Gods, I thought you were dead," Corvus repeated, this time with no laughter to accompany it. He helped Soren sink to the ground, pressed against the wall. The tracker placed his hand on the back of Soren's head, running through his dirty, greasy hair. He pushed their foreheads together.

"I know— I'm sorry," Soren answered, his voice high in his grief. "I'm so sorry— I tried to— to stop it— I'm—" His voice broke, unable to continue. The knight clutched onto Corvus desperately.

"I know, I know," Corvus hushed him gently, "It's okay, we're okay." He trailed his hand down to Soren's cheek, rubbing his thumb under Soren's eye.

Soren grabbed onto his hand and pressed his face into it. He kissed Corvus' palm with as much reverence and love as he could.

"We're gonna be okay," Corvus promised. Soren nodded with a wobbly hum.

The knight sniffled. He let go of Corvus' hand to wipe at his face. Even though no tears had been shed, they pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision. He fought to blink them away.

Corvus let out a soft hum. He wiped Soren's hair out of the way, revealing his bandaged head. Soren hadn't gotten it changed since that first night, and it had long since been stained with dirt and dust. The tracker's face fell at the sight.

"What happened?" Corvus asked, nodding to the bandage.

Soren let out a weak laugh. He leaned his head against the stone wall behind him. the knight gestured vaguely with his hand, waving it around lazily before letting it fall limply into his lap.

"Oh, it's nothing. I probably don't even need the bandage anymore." He smiled. At Corvus' humorless gaze, his smile fell in defeat. "I got hit by a flying brick." He admitted with a lame shrugged.

"Soren!"

"Well it wasn't actually flying, more like falling—"

"Please tell me you got Opeli to look at it." More like she didn't let him leave alone until she did, but still, Soren nodded. His spirits lifted a bit at seeing Corvus' shoulders fall in relief.

"And this?" Corvus asked, pressing his thumb to the scabbed over cut on Soren's eyebrow. It was exactly where Soren had accidentally given himself his own scar so long ago.

"Same rock." Soren laughed softly, "Opeli said it'll scar." Corvus' frown renewed. Soren pouted, then he lurched forward and pecked the tracker on his lips. Corvus jerked back in surprise, but he smiled quickly. "We'll match!" Soren smiled widely.

"Yeah," Corvus replied before both fell silent.

Soren was so happy to see him. It truly felt like all his problems would be solved, with both his King and his tracker here to help. A weight seemed to float off of his shoulders.

"I missed you," Soren admitted with an adorant sigh.

"I missed you too." Corvus leaned forward. He put his hands on Soren's cheeks. The knight melted into the touch as Corvus placed a kiss on his forehead.

The two sat there for as long as they could, trapped in their own bubble where nothing could hurt them. The world seemed so much brighter with Corvus, so much safer. He chased away the chill that followed Soren wherever he went.

---

Soren's arm ached, keeping him from sleep. He kept his heavy breaths quiet, fearing catching the attention of others. Everyone else, save for Ezran, slept soundly.

Soren sat against the stone wall, clutching his arm tightly with his knees pulled up to hide the limb. He couldn't bring himself to remove his vambrace and check on it. He knew it would be worse, there was no mistaking that the pain had gotten worse.

But it was not pain alone that ailed him. The fabric and metal that covered his arm were hot to the touch. He had singed his finger tips against his vambrace when he first tried touching it.

He took in another shaky breath, releasing it with a soft whistle. He laid his head back against the wall, letting it hit with a soft thud.

With pain watering his eyes, he gazed over his companions. Everyone was so peaceful, so safe. Callum was splayed out on his sleeping bag, snoring softly. Queen Aanya was sleeping lightly, she moved often, but not restlessly. And Corvus was curled in on himself, closest to Soren and waiting to wrap around him.

He let his gaze trail to King Ezran, sitting, seething on his throne. He wished he could something to make this better, but there was nothing to be done for what was already lost.

All them though. were utterly unaware of their friend's pain. They did not stir as Soren mumbled to himself, or shivered and held himself tighter.

Soren, despite his pain, was aware as any guard could be. He heard when the bushes around him started to rustle. The crownguard got to his feet quickly and grabbed his sword— with his left hand, his right cramped too much for him to even twitch his fingers.

He paused when Rayla emerged with another, moonshadow elf behind her. He did not relax at the sight, his eyes squinting form both pain and suspicion. However, he trusted Rayla, and allowed himself to be hugged tightly by the elf.

"Soren! It's good to see you," She said with a smile. There was a veiled of regret covering her happy demeanor, a feeling he had become far too acquainted with in the past week.

Soren nodded, unable to trust his voice at the moment. Rayla's brow furrowed, but the assassin passed him to go see Callum.

Soren eyed the other elf as he passed the knight. He paid Soren no mind, though, as he was engrossed in the sight of a ruined Katolis. He watched the elf until King Ezran stood abruptly and pointed and accusatory finger at him.

Soren's eyes widened as Ezran started accusing the elf. The others woke quickly at the new noise.

"This is your fault!" King Ezran yelled, "All of this happened because of you." He turned to Soren. He looked more angry than the knight had never seen. His eyes were not that of an innocent child, but a tired king who had seen more death than most would in a lifetime. "Soren, arrest him!" He ordered.

Soren's brow furrowed. He gripped his sword tighter, but did not move any further. A weak and confused hum was all he could manage.

"Ezran!" Rayla exclaimed, "Runaan didn't do this— he isn't here to—"

"He killed King Harrow!" Ezran screamed. His voice echoed through the quiet night. Zym shrunk away from the furious king. Then Ezran rounded on Soren again, "Soren, arrest him!"

Soren cleared his throat and looked to the ground. He took a tentative step forward, passing both Callum and Rayla. He was grateful to see Runaan put his hands behind his back with little prompting. He grabbed the elf's wrists and led him away from Ezran.

"I'm sorry," He whispered to no one in particular. He did not raise his gaze, feeling hot with shame.

Runaan did not struggle, though he could break easily free. Soren only held him with his left hand, his right still held close to his chest as it burned.

this is lowkey the most fluff/romance stuff I've ever written but I love them so so much I had to make them touchy and sweet. Also I will say their relationship is more less PDA than it is secret. Like I said before they're just too employed to really be open about their relationship and also I do hc that they're maybe worried their loyalty would be doubted since there could be a situation where one would have to choose to save the other or Ezran (even though most of the guards make bets on when they'll get together).

Anyways, hope ya'll enjoyed this. thanks for reading <3

[sadiewritingco]

Masterlist - The Dragon Prince

A Burning Heart - 1 2 AO3

[sadiewritingco]

A Burning Heart - Chapter 1 - Prologue

Summary - A soft hearth was buried in his soul. Utterly unknown, doing its job silently. It chased away the cold that had permeated Soren's entire being since he was a child. At the same time, it carried a familiar chill along with it, like a burning fever refusing to break. Soren's heart was aflame. Everyone else's fire had died out quickly, all of them pinched candles. His reigned like a wildfire, uncontrollable and unstoppable. it waited to grow and spread its warmth further.

His heart burned everlasting, leaving the organ charred. Soon, his skin with burn too.

 Relationship and Tags - Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings, Corvus/Soren (The Dragon Prince), Opeli & Soren (The Dragon Prince), Hat & Soren (The Dragon Prince), Soren (The Dragon Prince), Corvus (The Dragon Prince), Opeli (The Dragon Prince), Ezran (The Dragon Prince), Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Angst, Dark Magic, Body Horror, Soren Needs a Hug (The Dragon Prince), POV Soren (The Dragon Prince), Hurt Soren (The Dragon Prince), Post-Season/Series 06, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Soren is a ship of theseus of dark magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Chapter - 1/?       Chapter Word Count  - 2,352/? 

Next  

AO3

 

I'm finally getting caught up on TDP after stopping at season five and I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR 6!!! it was lowkey soren's season though with the mushroom episode and everything with Viren and him taking charge during Sol Regem's attack.

Anyways, this is basically me thinking what would happen if the Cinder Heart spell didn't wear off on Soren and came back slowly.

I will say I'm not 100% sure on where this will go or even if I'll get very far into writing it, but I wanted to post this first chapter because I couldn't stop thinking about going ahead and posting it. I'll update tags as I go too

and for the secret/established relationship thing i have a small hc that soren and corvus have been dating since sometime in the timeskip but aren't really open about it/giving it a label because they're too employed

anyways, please enjoy!

A soft hearth was buried in his soul. Utterly unknown, doing its job silently. It chased away the cold that had permeated Soren's entire being since he was a child. At the same time, it carried a familiar chill along with it, like a burning fever refusing to break.

Soren's heart was aflame. Everyone else's fire had died out quickly, all of them pinched candles. His reigned like a wildfire, uncontrollable and unstoppable. it waited to grow and spread its warmth further.

His heart burned everlasting, leaving the organ charred. Soon, his skin with burn too.

---

Soren lifted the rubble off of the man as a purple haze covered his skin. His breath hitched as he turned to the smokey skies as a massive creature cut through the haze.

He could see its neck glowing, preparing to rein fire down on all of them. the knight closed his eyes as it soared down, towards the tower where he knew Viren went to face it.

He moved to cover the man, though his body would due little to shield anyone from the flames of a dragon.

There was a searing heat over his skin. His gut burned as if from a bad meal, then his lungs as if inhaling smoke, as he had already done much of that today, and finally his heart turned to cinder.

He opened his eyes to find the area around him in even more ruin, with flames licking at the ground in patches. The man beneath him screamed. Soren looked down at him to see someone with charred skin and veins of magma. He looked at his hands to see the same.

"It's okay!" He said quickly, pulling the man to his feet, "it doesn't last forever." He assured as he dragged the man towards the bridge.

He smiled as someone braved the flames, appearing on the other side unscathed and cheering. More people took the leap, with many helping each other across. He pushed the man off to another guard, watching their backs disappear past the fire.

He turned back, looking to the tower. It had collapsed, a pile of rubble where a great castle once stood. He swallowed the lump in his throat, it burned like liquid fire.

Soren turned away as the arch collapsed behind him. He was shadowed in his own light, the light that came from the magma in his blood and fire in his eyes.

He gave a silent goodbye to his home, and to a father he never truly had.

---

Soren rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he got out of his cot. Hat fell from his head and onto his lap, giving a little squeak of protest. Soren scratched the little glow toad before placing him back on his head.

He looked around to the other wounded. Many with broken bones, several with cuts and scrapes, and almost everyone with burns.

He took in a shaky breath as someone screamed on the other side of the tent. Opeli was leaning over her and applying a salve. He didn't know how he had slept through the night.

Soren got to his feet, brushing at the dirtied armor he'd neglected to take off before falling asleep. He hadn't meant to fall asleep anyway; he had been perfectly content to let Opeli treat him then get right back to work.

"Anything I can do?" He asked Opeli as he approached. Though he spoke softly, his voice stood out through the rest of the tent.

The woman huffed. She put a wad of old bandages into a bin with an air of annoyance.

"We don't have enough supplies for everyone to be treated properly," she answered. Soren's hand trailed to his head, where clean bandages covered his wound. He should've waited before going to Opeli.

Hat took his opportunity to nip at Soren's hand. The knight let out a breath that could be called a laugh if not for his somber mood. He patted the glow toad's head before letting his hand fall again.

"I'll see what I can do— would cloth work?" He asked as the idea popped into his head. With Opeli's nod he rushed out of the tent, any previous drowsiness fading away with the gift of a task.

He stalked through the meager camp that had been put up the night before. Tents were half-made, most of them sagging. Most people had only been able to put sleeping bags around fires, and many weren't even able to get sleeping bags.

Cloth would be hard to come by, many would need blankets, and they couldn't spare anything from tents. Still, Soren tracked down the first group of guards still on their feet he could find and gave out orders to collect as much fabric as possible.

He rubbed at his eyes, feeling much more drained than he was expecting. He had slept most of the morning after a full night of tending to the wounded and building as good a camp he could. He scratched at his vambrace as if he could pierce the metal as a wave of discomfort enveloped him.

He took another lap around the camp, putting anyone to work he could. He sent two guards to check tents and make sure they were stable, three to patrol around the camp, and the rest to tend to the wounded or do any other chores given to them.

Once his legs were sore and eyes tired, he allowed himself to collapse onto an old tree stump in front of a lackluster campfire. He thought of all the times he'd camped out in the woods as a kid, in Camp Katolis, during training, or for just plain fun.

Soren dragged his hands down his face as he remembered a time when he and Claudia took a week trip in the wilderness so she could find some rare ingredient for dark magic. He wrapped his arms around himself and shook silently as a chill came with the memory.

"Captain Soren, sir?" A guard said, clad in half ruined armor but still standing at attention.

The crownguard sat up quickly, waving the guard to continue.

"There have been some requests to search for… missing people." He paused, gazing out towards the camp where hundreds of people huddled in shattered groups. Soren followed his gaze. There was a father holding his child tightly as she sobbed against him; a brother and sister sitting silently next to each other and holding each others' hands; a little boy, all alone.

He took in a breath before standing on slightly unsteady feet. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, an action of comfort he'd never grown out of.

"I'll lead a search party," he declared, "gather any available guards to join me and find a cart to carry any injured."

"Yes, sir." The guard saluted him, then rushed off to follow orders.

Before setting off, Soren headed back to the medical tent. It was the only place in the camp that didn't look like it was about to collapse, at least from the outside. He ducked under the flap and into as much chaos as there had been during Sol Regem's attack.

More people were awake, more crying and screaming. As he moved to get to Opeli, he passed a little girl with raven-black hair, no older than eight. She was crying, curled on her side and hugging herself tightly.

Soren's lungs constricted as he watched her try and silence her own sobs. He looked around, hoping that someone would come rushing to her side, a mother with kind eyes, a father with warm hands, a brother with a big smile. No one came, or paid much attention to her at all.

Soren crouched down beside her, he tapped her shoulder gently. She gasped and turned swiftly around, her eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Hi there." He smiled, big and bright, like always, "I'm Soren."

The girl sniffled. She wiped at her nose as she sat up slowly. "'M Claire." She answered in a weak, hoarse voice.

"Hi, Claire. Has someone checked on you yet?" He asked gently. Claire nodded and pointed towards Opeli, who was tending to a guard with an injury that no little girl should have to see.

Soren bit his lip, unsure of how else to continue. Then Hat made a little squeak atop his head and an idea struck him.

"Claire, do you know I'm the captain of the crownguard?" He asked in a conspiratorial whisper. She nodded. "Would you be willing to do a very important job for me? It's super important, and I don't think I can trust just anyone with it." Her eyes were shining now, excited and curious, chasing away the haze of pain that had veiled her gaze. "Do you think you can handle it?"

She nodded so enthusiastically Soren worried she might disturb her injuries.

He urged her to close her eyes, and when she did he picked hat up and held him in his palm. He grabbed Claire's wrist and gently brought her palm up. He deposited Hat there, much like he had when giving the little glow toad off to Opeli during the attack.

Claire giggled as Hat spun around in her palm. She opened her eyes and absolutely beamed at the little creature.

"This is Hat," Soren said, sitting back on his heels. "He's very important to me, and I don't want him to get scared." He cleared his throat, preparing for a mock-serious voice "So, will you take up this task, this vital duty, to watch over him, while I am away?"

"I will!" she exclaimed.

Soren smiled and got to his feet. He gave a bow, flipping his cape dramatically.

"Then, until we meet again, Lady Claire." He patted her head as she giggled, messing up her hair. She swatted at his hands and he retreated away with a smile that she matched.

Then, content that Opeli had things handled and his little glow toad was in safe hands, he left the tent and headed for the ruins of Katolis.

---

Katolis was destroyed. Homes were diminished to rubble, fires still burned over the roads, and personal items were left strewn about the streets. But nothing was as bad as the castle.

Towers were all but ruined, the only thing showing that they existed were the piles of stone bricks. Flags were torn and singed, their fabric flowing in the wind. Even the bridge had been destroyed, so unstable that Soren didn't allow anyone but him to cross.

He regretted the choice, wishing someone else could stand with him as he surveyed the destruction Sol Regem had wrought. At the same time, he didn't want anyone else to ever see their home burnt to the ground like this.

He took in a breath, the scent of smoke was still in the air. The sky seemed to have a permanent grey hue. Embers still floated high as the last of the fires died out.

There was no sound but for the clanking of his armor and the whispers of the wind. It was peaceful compared to the panicked camp. It was like any end to a battle, when there was nothing left but the neglected fallen. It was a cemetery.

Soren walked slowly, carefully, through the courtyard. He remembered all the days he spent training in the mud and grass of the field. He mourned the days that Queen Sarai would keep him at work until the sun was touching the earth as it set.

And all the days he forced Callum to try and fail at sword fighting. Soren didn't know why he ever thought the mage would be a knight. He lacked the talent and enthusiasm for the job. He was much more fit for his books and spells.

Soren stopped when he came across a body. He was a knight, but no one he knew. He was laying in a patch of burnt grass, the once green blade reduced to charcoal. His armor was melted against his skin, and whatever skin was still shown was flaking and red.

Soren leaned down, resting on his knees. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth, muffling a sob for a man he didn't know. He hunched forward, hugging his chest as his heart ached for this brave man.

When he had regained his composure, he gently laid his hand over the man's eyes, then forced them shut. He would return with a sheet, once the material became available. He would return for this man and anyone else he might find.

And so the crownguard went, stalking through what was left of the castle. He weeped over many, some so ruined he couldn't recognize. He forced many's eyes shut and promised his return to help their souls rest.

It wasn't until the sun was setting, painting the sky crimson, that he returned to the rest of the party. He was silent, a ghost of a man with his head down. Everyone else was much the same. Not a word was uttered during the journey back to camp.

Soren forwent any discussion when survivors circled around their party. He pushed through to the medical tent, where Opeli was still on her feet. She stopped when she caught sight of him, placing her hand gently on his cheek in quick comfort.

Then, she led him to a cot he had visited before, with a little girl and a little glow toad. His sorrow weakened at seeing Claire snuggled up with Hat.

His moment of peace did not last, as Opeli's gaze held nothing but worry and regret. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it before muttering a horrible truth he would much rather have never known.

Soren leaned over the cot, stroking the girl's hair as she took in raspy breaths. Breaths that could only be made with struggle, as too much smoke had taken up air in her lungs. He squeezed her hand with each inhale, tighter each time.

He stayed with her until she did not breathe again.

Okay this chapter was more of a setting the mood than a plot chapter. It'll get more into the cinder heart stuff soon! Sorry about the random child but I needed to show Soren's caring nature while also making him suffer even more and also parallels.

I also kind of didn't like this chapter so it actually does gets better with more chapters I promise (I also did very little editing for this chapter)

hope ya'll enjoyed!

[sadiewritingco]

Masterlist – The Expanse

Call it Murder – 1  AO3 

[sadiewritingco]

Call it Murder

Summary - Alex Kamal was not used to having blood on his hands. He didn't know what to do with himself but to fall into a constant cycle of failures and blame. Every night he'd run simulations, and every day he'd be stuck living with the man he chose over twenty-five lives.

Something would break.

 Relationship and Tags - Graphic Depictions of Violence,Amos Burton/Alex Kamal, Alex Kamal & Naomi Nagata, Amos Burton & Alex Kamal, Alex Kamal, Amos Burton, Naomi Nagata, Jim Holden (The Expanse), Alex Kamal Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Slice of Life, they live a very violent life okay, Found Family, Pre-Slash, Ambiguous Relationships, they can never label what they are, POV Alex Kamal, Season/Series 02, Missing Scene, Alex Kamal maybe isn't cut out for the cowboy life, Alex Kamal can cook, Minor Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata, possible poly roci if you want, Sleep Deprivation, Sort Of

Chapter - 1/1       Word Count  -  9,332

AO3 

I absolutely fell in love with the Expanse and Alex so ofc I had to write something about him (fuck his actor though). It's also criminal how few fics there are for him >:(

This is mainly set after Eros in an au where the crew works for Fred for a bit as I've seen in other fics (this is also because when I started writing this I hadn't gotten to Ganymede yet)

there also are like no spoilers in this aside from a vague mentioning of Spin Station and everything with the Protomolecule but that's mainly it

also this could totally be read as platonic (with some suspension of disbelief)

Title is from Under the Earth by Yeah Yeah Yeahs :)

Alex stifled another loud curse. Instead he bit his lip hard and slammed his back against his crash couch. He tried to ignore the blaring red failure that shown on his terminal, one among many that he'd seen this night.

He had hoped that being back among the stars would distract him from this hopeless endeavor. He hoped that the only reason he'd been working on it so long was because of how stir crazy he was getting on Tycho.

Turns out there wasn't much more to do in space than there was on the station. It's not like he was expecting much else, but he had really hoped that having an actual goal, a place to get to, would help him focus on something else, maybe even forget for a little while.

He blew out a heavy sigh, one loaded with all his regrets and personal failures. He pushed the terminal away, shutting down the program. Then, he dimmed the lights to emulate what he figured the night sky of Earth to be like— he was the only one still awake, it would be a bit cruel to leave the lights on all night cycle.

He crossed his hands over his stomach, stretching his feet out yet not daring to put them up on a terminal. He could never disrespect the Roci like that.

He leaned his head back. He could see the stars above him, the stars that surround all of them at all times. He blinked slowly.

There were still times he expected to wake up at home, in his cozy bed, with simulated light shining through his window that was really just a screen. He could imagine himself turning around and laying an arm over his wife's side, or groggily sitting up when his son burst into their room and started jumping on their bed.

It was a miracle Alex could still imagine a life where the guilt of trading twenty-five lives for one didn't weigh down on his chest like stones, squeezing his lungs.

Alex put his hands over his eyes, rubbed his palms over them, pressed into them. He let his hands fall lazily, then his head all the way onto the back of the crash couch. He pushed his feet against the floor and spun back and forth slowly.

He missed Mars— hell, he missed the Cant. Maybe he just missed being such a simple man with no other job or expectation than to fly instead of the sudden responsibility of saving the solar system.

He missed not having such sad internal monologues, and that realization alone was enough to make him get up from his seat and down from the flight deck.

He made his way to the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee then grabbing a pan and turning on the stove-top; it was late (early?) enough to start making breakfast.

No matter what Alex thought of Tycho, with its brothels and bars, it was nice to have a place to stock up on some good food.

It was nice for Alex to have the option to cook again.

Aside from flying, which nothing in the whole universe could beat to Alex, cooking was his passion. He could remember the slow mornings when he was able to make waffles with strawberries and whip cream for his kid, and scramble a near full carton of eggs for him and his wife.

Although, he pondered as he placed a long strip of meat onto the now sizzling pan, they had never had bacon. How Fred Johnson was able to get bacon, Alex would never know and never risk asking.

As Alex flipped over the strip of bacon and added another to the pan, a presence made itself known beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin as Amos suddenly appeared at the coffee maker.

"You're up early," the man mumbled, his voice almost drowned out by the grinding of coffee beans.

Alex only shrugged. He really hadn't slept aside from a few micro-sleeps in between simulations, but he wasn't going to tell Amos that.

Amos clapped a heavy hand on Alex's shoulder, almost making him drop the bacon mid-flip. He felt the man looking over him.

"Holy shit- is that bacon?" He asked, a sudden interest lacing his tone and overpowering the weak small-talk from before.

Alex smiled brightly.

"Johnson hooked me up. He's got a damn lot of luxuries on that station." Alex slipped out of Amos' grasp to grab a large plate from the top cabinet. He then put a nicely cooked piece onto it and placed it on the counter.

"Say, partner, can you crack a few eggs in that bowl?" He nodded towards a small carton of eggs. He really should have been multitasking, but he couldn't help focusing on the best part of the meal first.

He heard a faint cracking of an egg's thin shell, then a plop as the yolk fell into the bowl. He glanced over to see Amos grabbing another egg delicately. Alex pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow before going back to his own task.

"Did you ever cook on the Cant?" Amos asked, breaking the comfortable silence the two had been working in.

Alex paused in his ministrations. He suddenly realized that he and Amos had hardly even spoken on the Cant. Hell, Holden was the only one of them he had ever really spoken too, even interacted with, aside from a few waves and nods. The only people he really spoke to often were his copilots.

He swallowed the dryness that had formed in his throat at the thought. He wished heartily for a drink of a water, but even if they could eat as lavishly as they wanted with the help of Tycho, water was still something to be rationed.

"Ah, not really," Alex answered truthfully, "there was always too much else to do." He shrugged.

"Bummer," Amos said, "the food on the Cant was always dry as dirt." Alex glanced up to catch Amos' scowl. "Could've used your skill in the kitchen."

Amos held out the bowl towards Alex, as if showcasing his work of cracking eggs. "Now what?" He asked.

"Mix 'em all up. I'm gonna scramble them once I'm done with this."

Amos nodded, somewhat gravely. Alex suppressed a smirk. As annoying as the man could be sometimes, the way he took every task given to him so seriously was… endearing.

Soon enough there was the loud clacking of a whisk hitting the sides of a bowl. It sounded a bit aggressive.

Alex finished up with the bacon, putting the final strip onto the plate then pressing down on them with a paper towel to get rid of the grease. He leaned back against the counter, grabbing his near forgotten cup of coffee and taking a slow slip. It was cold, now, and it made Alex's nose scrunch up as he realized this.

He drank most of it anyway.

Soon enough Amos handed the eggs over to Alex for his inspection and approval, then Alex poured them into the still hot pan and got to work again.

He half expected Amos to leave once no more directions were given to him, but Alex never heard his steps retreat the room. In fact, he felt the man's gaze on his back the entire time he was working on the eggs. It made him a feel a bit hot, but he just told himself it was his proximity to the stove.

Luckily, the eggs didn't take nearly as long as the bacon had, and soon enough Alex was setting the table and getting ready to wake up the others.

He pulled out his hand terminal and sent an announcement through the Roci's speakers, "emergency meeting in the kitchen!" He yelled, which was then echoed back to him through the Roci.

"Captain's gonna kill you if you keep doing that," Amos said with a smirk as he sat down at his seat.

"It's the only thing that'll get him up and spending some family time with us." Alex smiled.

Soon enough the captain and Naomi both groggily entered the room. Alex smiled and Amos waved with a much less genuine smile as the two sighed and sat down.

He and Amos shared a glance. The two really were a couple, acting like they were already married and all.

"Alex," Holden started, "have you ever heard of the Boy Who Cried Wolf?" He asked with a hint of irritation.

"Can't say I have, partner." He very much so had, that was one tale that's message still held strong. But, telling the captain he didn't know it was a much easier out than listening to him try and lecture him, especially this early in the morning.

The captain merely hung his head and started stabbing a fork into his eggs.

"Wait- since when do we have eggs and bacon?" He asked, his head shooting back up.

"Since we started under the employment of Fred Johnson," Alex answered. Holden's brow furrowed, but Alex continued before he could interrupt, "I know you don't get on particularly well with him, but at least let me know when you cut ties so I can raid his store houses." Alex smirked around a mouthful of eggs, then pulled out a small card and held it up, "He gave me unlimited access for when we need to stock up."

Naomi laughed, and Amos clapped Alex on the back.

"Oh, you better put that to good use," Naomi smiled as she cut up a piece of bacon.

"Who knew our pilot was a master chef?" Holden shook his head fondly as his focus moved down to his plate.

"And apparently a thief!" Amos pulled Alex into a one-armed hug, squeezing is bicep tightly.

When Amos let go and turned down to his own plate, Alex couldn't help but look upon this small family they had made of each other. He knew he was a bit to the left of it, not quite as connected as all the others, but he would be a part of it as long as he was allowed.

---

Alex went over his charted flight path once again. It left the crew with two more days of space travel and no known obstacles or hostiles. They'd already been among the stars for a week or so, much more closer to their destination than Tycho.

He still wasn't sure what this job was, exactly. He at least knew it was a step below saving the human race from an extrasolar biohazard. He would take pirates over that any day.

He adjusted the flight path ever so slightly when he noticed a stray asteroid racing through the cosmos. It wouldn't hit them, even if he hadn't changed anything, but it was nice to feel like he was doing something.

It gave him a bit more time away from the simulation. Even if he used that time to do more work and exhaust himself further. Even if half of that time was still filled with him thinking of the simulation.

Just being in his chair, in control of the whole ship with the option for the simulation a sentence away, was far too tempting.

He stood abruptly, swinging around on his feet and heading towards the ladder down to the others on the main deck. He could hear them talking softly, and he knew they would be able to hear him if he started the sim again. He would wait until the night cycle, like he had since that first night they took off, like he would until he either beat the sim or broke it.

He descended the ladder, landing with a loud clomp when his boots hit the metal floor. The others looked up, Naomi and Amos smiling at different intensities, and Holden nodding in greeting. Alex nodded back, then moved to shuffle past the group.

He wasn't in a very chatty mood, and, after getting all his chores done, he just wanted a nap. He was starting to crave those more and more— his own fault, really.

However, Amos grabbed his arm, halting him abruptly. Despite that, it was Naomi who spoke.

"Alex!" She started cheerfully, that too-sweet voice that meant she was about to ask something of someone. "We have a request- for dinner." She clarified.

Alex turned fully, his interest piqued. "Alrighty, let's hear it." He clapped his hands together in front of him and smiled, his eyes crinkling with the expression.

"Are… steaks possible?" Holden asked, hesitant for the leader.

After a moment of thought, Alex's smile widened. They had synthetic steaks, nothing too fancy but it emulated the taste enough.

"That, I believe can do," he declared triumphantly.

Alex couldn't say he was very surprised when Amos followed him to the kitchen a few hours later; he had been around whenever Alex was working in the kitchen since that fateful morning when they made breakfast. The help was appreciated and Amos was surprisingly nice to be around when he wasn't beating the shit out of some poor, idiotic soul.

Even when Amos wasn't helping, he hovered around amicably. It didn't feel quite as awkward as the first time; there was still a bit of heat building around Alex at the man's stare, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

He wondered if he was somehow getting used to Amos' uncanniness. Even when they were just hanging around the Roci, there was something about Amos that was different. It was starting to feel like less of a bad different and more just different.

Alex was a bit loathsome to admit that getting used to Amos was diminishing his guilt. He didn't know if it made him angry or relieved; either way, he'd rather it not be happening at all.

He liked Amos, really, but he felt like he shouldn't be so accepting of his strange and violent ways. He supposed he didn't really have much choice in the matter, he would either get used to it or not.

So they continued with their routine. Amos would hover around the kitchen, waiting for a task to be given to him, while Alex played chef and kept everyone fed with something a little more flavorful than basic rations. It was nice.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Amos asked abruptly. He was leaning back against the counter behind Alex , watching him as intently as ever.

Alex bit his lip. He poked a thermometer into one of the steaks as he hesitated.

"I used to cook for my family, I guess I picked up a bit more than the basics." He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. He cleared his throat.

Alex was so used to witnessing Amos' quiet loyalty, doing whatever someone asked without question. Alex forgot he wasn't one of the few that got that privilege, he was one to be protected, not followed.

He wasn't ready for Amos' questioning.

"Do you miss it?" Alex stopped completely, "the cooking, I mean." Amos corrected. He cleared his throat.

"A bit, I guess." Alex answered quietly. "I mean, I'm cooking now, aren't I?" He turned his head just enough to smile at the Earther. The conversation fizzled out afterwards.

When he turned back around he paused to rub at his eyes. They were heavy with all his nights he'd neglected. He had halfheartedly been avoiding looking in the mirror lately, and absently wondered if he looked as tired as he felt.

Maybe that's why Amos had been hanging around him lately. Maybe Naomi had told him to make sure Alex doesn't burn himself. Maybe he was just trying to protect him.

Alex grabbed a cutting board hidden away in a cupboard. There was a thin layer of dust on it and Alex wondered if anyone had ever actually used this kitchen before him. How often did a ship like the Donnager need to send a little frigate like the Roci out?

After handing off the board to Amos to be cleaned, Alex searched around for any vegetables he had. Tycho had a lot of resources for a space station, but nothing compared to the foods found on Earth or even Mars. Alex had only been able to store a few potatoes and carrots and he wouldn't be surprised if they were synthetic.

He hadn't managed to get any seasoning aside from salt and pepper.

Amos handed the board back to him, and Alex set out the few vegetables and grabbed a kitchen knife. He cut them into the smallest portions he reasonably could.

Alex suddenly realized that this meal wouldn't be anything like the crew hoped for. It'd be okay, and maybe Naomi and Amos were used to lackluster meals like this, but Holden was an Earther from a well-off family.

And maybe Holden would understand by now, he had been on the Cant a decent while and these past few months have been far from luxurious. But what if he wasn't?

If Alex couldn't cook good enough, if he couldn't keep everyone safe in this ship, what good was he? There were a million other pilots in the galaxy, he had hardly even flown a military class ship before the Roci, surely there was someone better.

A heat was creeping over Alex's entire being. He was being ridiculous but couldn't get the worries out of his head.

"Hey Alex-" Amos cut through his thoughts, much like how the kitchen knife slid across Alex's finger when he jumped.

"Shit!" He hissed. The knife clattered onto the counter as Alex cradled his finger. A dot of blood weeped out of his finger, and Alex suddenly felt a wave of nausea roll through his gut. He took in a shaky breath as he reached for a dish towel.

Amos beat him to it, grabbing his hand and pressing the fabric firmly against his bleeding finger. Alex bit his lip as the pressure made the cut burn painfully.

"Sorry," Amos muttered. He was looking firmly at the towel, at the small spot of red that was seeping through the fabric and growing.

"S'okay, I should've been more careful." Alex shrugged. He looked pointedly away from the blood.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and took in another shaky breath. He placed his free and uninjured hand on the counter to steady himself.

His eyes snapped open when Amos snatched his other hand. The other man placed it firmly over the cloth.

"Press into it," he ordered as he let go. Amos stomped over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass. He filled it to the brim with water.

Alex frowned, but did what he was told. He looked down at his feet, the red spot growing in the corner of his eye. He squeezed his finger a little tighter than he needed to. The spot grew.

Then Amos practically shoved the glass into his face. Alex took it when Amos grabbed the cloth again. He didn't drink much, they didn't have enough to be wasting it like this— but when he was moving to set the glass down, Amos grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Drink it." He squeezed Alex's wrist.

Alex drank all of it.

---

Alex lied on his back, staring up the top of his rack, straps keeping him in place in the low gravity. He had his hands folded over his stomach, one finger wrapped tightly with a bandage. He twisted his ring back and forth

He slid the ring off his finger. For a moment he held it tightly, but it didn't take long for him to let it float through the recycled air. The metal glinted in the low lighting as it spun slowly. It hit the top of his rack and bounced back towards him.

He snatched it from the air and slid it back over his finger. The running lights switched on just as he broke from his languid stupor. The Roci was illuminated in sterile light.

He unbuckled the straps, leaning over onto his side before swinging his legs over the bed. He pushed off the ground and for a moment he was flying. For a moment there weren't stones pressing against his chest; they floated away from him as he did from the ground.

Then he grabbed his boots and pulled them over his feet. Then he was stuck to the cold metal floor of the Roci. Then he was stalking through his girl's halls and hovering around the coffee makers while Holden made his own.

"Sleep okay?" Holden asked, lifting the mug to his lips. Alex pretended he didn't see him glance towards his bandaged finger. He pretended Holden was just asking out of small talk.

Alex smiled, "Like a baby."

---

Amos found him on the flight deck.

He should've been asleep, they all should have. The running lights were dark and Alex had bumped into several things just trying to leave his room. He couldn't stand another night just laying awake in bed, though.

At least staring at a screen, running a simulation over and over again, gave him something to do. It hurt his eyes after an hour, and made them water after two. His fingers would cramp after the tenth simulation, maybe more depending on how far he would get. His legs would feel weightless from sitting for so long.

He was content, maybe even eager, to go through it again for one more night. Maybe if he did it enough nights in a row he would be able to sleep the next.

Amos, apparently, thought differently.

"Captain says to get rest for tomorrow." Tomorrow. They would be docking tomorrow, meeting some random OPA crew in some random OPA warehouse. Nothing other than a few tense conversations should happen, but everyone was on edge anyway.

"I am resting." Even to Alex, that sounded pathetic. He didn't need to turn around to see Amos' raised brow. Alex could hear him shuffling behind him, and he could imagine the other man crossing his arms.

"Could've fooled me," Amos huffed.

Alex ignored him. He started up another simulation. He squinted at the screen as it changed from being painfully blank to having a scattering of stars. His fingers moved deftly over the controls as the stealth ship materialized in front.

For a moment it was going good, he was avoiding the rail guns while keeping close enough to not need to worry about missiles. Then those damned cannons on the station fired up, and he was too busy worrying about the stealth ship to take them out in time.

"Son of a-" He clamped his mouth shut, holding a closed fist over it. Then he deflated and let himself fall limply against his crash couch. His entire left leg tingled with pins and needles and he let out a sharp hiss.

"Alex," Amos cut in, having not gotten the general aura of leave me alone that Alex was practically oozing with. "You can't keep doing this."

Alex grabbed at his thigh, trying to squeeze out the pain and get his blood flowing. He leaned his head on his free hand, covering his eyes. His elbow pressing into the armrest uncomfortably.

"We need you to be at your best, especially now." Amos continued, "You're mad about letting some people you didn't even know die but you're putting us at risk by doing this."

"You're going to get us killed."

Alex let his hand fall. He grabbed the armrest and the back of the chair to push himself up. His leg twinged; he kept a hand on the back of the seat as he glared as sharply as he could at Amos.

"I let twenty-five people die for you." He raised a finger to point at Amos, putting as much accusation and anger as he could into it. It didn't work well with the thick bandage covering said finger.

Amos only stared at him, with those wide and intense eyes that made Alex's skin crawl. Sometimes he wondered if Amos was even looking at him at all, if his gaze was just ghosting through Alex's entire being.

"Twenty-five fucking people!" Alex nearly yelled, he could hardly control his voice. "People who could've had families- kids- people to look after!" His voice shook and he looked to the floor. "And I let them all die, for you."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Alex didn't think Amos even moved.

Alex's throat suddenly felt very dry. His heart was beating heavily in his chest like it was trying to escape. Yet Alex didn't feel willing to fight anymore. After letting those few words out he wanted to lock everything else away.

Alex squeezed the back of the chair before letting go. He shuffled past Amos, who either didn't care or didn't notice that Alex was leaving. The man looked right through him.

As he put one foot down the ladder to the main deck Alex spoke, soft enough for a secret, "I don't even know you."

---

Alex maneuvered the Roci carefully and gently. Bursts of thrusts helped him get the perfect angle for docking. He smiled when the ship gave a heavy jolt from the airlocks of two ships connecting.

He clapped his hands together and sat back. He spun his chair back and forth before unbuckling and jumping to his feet. He slid down the ladder and approached the rest of the crew.

They were all huddled around the main terminal. Holden and Naomi stood close together, they've been orbiting around each other since Eros. Alex thought it was a bit cute, and it benefited him with giving him plenty of room to himself.

He was glad to have more personal space; it had seemed that lately someone was invading it more often than not. Alex didn't know if it was just because of how mad he'd been lately, or some other reason he didn't want to look into, but it always made a awkward heat creep up his neck. All he knew and needed to know was that he wasn't too disposed to it.

Holden listed off the details for this errand Johnson had sent them on. It sounded simple enough— an easy trading of supplies, some cargo Johnson had given the Roci and whatever cargo this OPA transport had that Johnson wanted.

Alex's only hangup was that he was joining the boarding party. Sure, he was willing to get his hands dirty if need be, he knew he had taken the lives of whoever was manning the stealth ship at Spin Station. But he had never been up close and personal with any firearms.

"Uh- not to doubt you, hoss," Alex started, feeling the need to voice his concerns, "But why am I boarding?" He smiled as easily as he could. His gaze flitted to everyone else on the deck before landing back on the captain.

Amos let out a huff and clapped him on the shoulder. Alex glanced at him with a raised brow and a hint of a glare, but the other man only shook his head with a smile. Amos was probably itching for something to go wrong; to get energy out with his prone to violence.

"There shouldn't be any problems with these people," Holden answered, "They're Fred's allies."

"So was Dawes," Naomi muttered.

"They seemed a bit estranged," Amos snarked. He squeezed Alex's shoulder again.

"Anyway," Holden cut in loudly, "it would just be easier with more people to move the cargo- friends or not, I don't really want these guys on the Roci." He looked at Alex then, "If you really don't want to go, Naomi can." Naomi nodded her ascent.

Alex glanced at her, then. He remembered her animosity towards him after having the gall to tell her to shoot someone. He couldn't really blame her, it just meant she was the best of all of them. But it also meant he wasn't as good as he thought he was.

Either way, he didn't want to be the reason she could be in that situation again.

"Nah, it's alright." He raised a placating hand, "I just don't know how useful I'll be if somethin' does go wrong." he cleared his throat, then placed his hands on the edge of the terminal, putting a bit of weight on it.

"Good thing it won't go wrong." Holden smiled, then he turned sharply and left the room. After a moment Naomi left too, with a pitying smile. They left Alex and Amos alone on the main deck.

Alex released a breath, then pushed himself up to stand straighter.

"He's an idealist," Amos muttered without scorn.

"He's a better person." Alex shrugged. Better than you, he thought with disdain and a hint of guilt.

Then Amos slapped a firm hand on Alex's shoulder once again, patting it roughly before letting his hand slide off. "Let's go, brother," he said as he headed towards the door, expecting Alex to follow.

I'm not your brother. He would hate to be related to someone like Amos, to be someone that would have to find every excuse in the book to justify his actions. He was glad to know that Amos wasn't a good person— he didn't think he was necessarily bad, just not good, that was enough for Alex to be mad at him at the moment.

"Y'know I'm still mad at you, right?" Alex called, because he couldn't leave well enough alone.

Amos stopped. He turned and tilted his head like a dog.

"I don't know what you want me to do about that."

Alex kind of wanted to punch him.

"Don't act like we're fine when it's just us," Alex said. He was fine pretending like everything was sunshine and rainbows around the rest of the crew; but he couldn't take acting like him and Amos were okay when there was no one to put on a show for.

"Won't that make things weird?" Amos asked.

"Yeah," Alex huffed, "but it gives me a minute to ruminate." He shrugged. He could admit he didn't want to be angry with Amos forever. He just needed it for a bit longer.

"Okay." Amos was staring at him again. He did for a long time. Sometimes it felt like he was sizing Alex up, for a fight— or something else— Alex didn't know.

Then Amos left, and Alex followed.

---

There was a gun pressing against his hip. It was a brick pulling him underwater, dragging him to his doom.

Everyone else in the hangar had one, holsters strapped to their hips, thighs, and sometimes lower back. Some people had their hands on their guns, still snug in their holsters, others were inching their hands towards them, the rest were too lazy or too confident to bother.

Holden was still talking with their boss, both acting amical enough. Holden's smile and the boss' nod almost convinced Alex that there wasn't about to be a major shootout.

Amos shuffled at his side. Alex fought not to turn his gaze towards the movement.

Somehow, Amos was the one more twitchy. Alex just stood still as a mountain but as fragile as a twig. He thought he was shaking a bit. He hoped he didn't look as terrified as he felt.

He tried to snake his arm towards his holster. He was going slow, he really was.

Holden's smile dropped.

Amos moved quickly away from him.

Several guns were fired.

Alex pushed himself to the ground behind a crate that he hoped to God was bullet-proof. Bile rose in his throat as he jerked his gun out of its holster. His hands shook and he dropped it.

The firearm clattered against the ground, somehow louder than the burning bullets whizzing over his hand. He clawed against the ground to grab it again. His fingernails scraped against the metal flooring before he was able to snatch the firearm up.

He held on to it tightly with both hands. He clicked the safety. He tried to remember anything at all from his military days.

Alex peeked around the side of the crate. There was a man poking his head above another one not too far from Alex. He was stretching his arm over it to fire at someone else.

Alex fired at the man. He jerked back behind his own crate. Then Alex had to do the same when gunfire started assaulting his cover.

He hadn't hit him. He was a bit relieved, but thinking that only made him feel guilty. It also put him in a lot more danger. There were scorching bullet holes around the floor. He wondered if his brains would be splattered on the ground in place of them if he hadn't moved.

Alex placed a hand to his chest as his cover was fire upon over and over again. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, as fast as the bullets surrounding him, through his clothes. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, he ended up coughing instead.

He twisted and stretched his arm out and fired wildly in the general direction the thug had been.

The crate stopped jolting as the gunfire silenced. There was a thud, once again impossibly louder than the rest of the chaos surrounding him.

He let out a shaking, stuttering wheeze. He blinked rapidly. He had killed him, or shot him- hurt him- something! He had just shot a man, he shot a man who was shooting at him.

"Alex!" Someone screamed.

He jerked his head towards the noise, moving to point his gun in the same direction before he recognized the voice. Amos was behind his own cover, his gun held high and steady.

Alex blinked.

"Get to the ship! I'll cover you!" He yelled.

Alex blinked again. He nodded. He squinted his eyes with a furrowed brow.

There was movement behind Amos. There was someone behind Amos.

Alex jerked to a stand, his legs shaky and unsteady. He raised his gun and fired, hoping to God his hands would stop shaking for at least a few seconds.

For a moment the hangar really did fall into a suffocating silence, save for a loud ringing sound that scraped against Alex's ears. Amos was looking behind him, at the lump on the ground. He turned back around slowly, so slowly. Then he smiled at Alex.

But Alex was on the floor, had fallen seconds after he fired. A scream left his lips before it broke down into a gasp. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, it was warm and wet and it hurt. He screamed again when a sharp pressure was put against it.

He opened his eyes and he couldn't see. He couldn't hear anything but that incessant ringing. He couldn't breathe through his nose. the only sense that seemed to be working was taste, as there was something coppery in his mouth and on his lips.

Something moved him, dragged him across the metal flooring. He yelled as his shoulder slid across the floor. He could see a trail of red past his feet, covered every few seconds with spots in his vision.

He held his hand up, barely able to manage the movement. His pain-addled mind was just aware enough to tell him that the red stuff coating his hand was blood.

Bile rose in his throat. he coughed and gagged, putting his head to the side so he didn't choke.

He was jostled again, his whole body jerking with the movement as a new wave of pain drowned him.

Then he was lying flat on his back, staring up at a bright ceiling, much brighter than the old hangar they had been in seconds before.

There was a hand on his cheek, cupping it gently. It turned his head to look up at a familiar face. Amos was staring down at him, little flecks of blood on his face. He was saying something, and Alex squinted at his moving lips, trying to read them.

Pockets of sound pushed past the ringing and Alex made out the general idea of what Amos was so desperate to tell him.

We gotta go. Alex agreed. He certainly wanted to leave; he hadn't wanted to be there in the first place. But that meany he needed to fly the ship and get them out of this chaos.

He pushed his elbows back, but yelled when he moved. He couldn't move. He felt like he was gonna pass out, or get sick, or maybe both. It might as well have been both.

His eyelids fluttered and he leaned his head back. What he could still faintly feel of Amos' hand receded.

Then there was a small prick in his arm, somehow sharper than any other pain in his body. Alex took in a deep breath and his eyes opened wide. Suddenly he could see again, and hear everything; however he could still only smell the tang of blood, but it was so much clearer than before.

He blinked up at Amos, who was holding something again Alex's arm.

"Sorry, brother," he said. He pulled the thing away from Alex, eliciting a sharp hiss from the Martian. "But we need you to get us out of here." Amos grabbed Alex's arm tightly and pulled him up.

Alex's legs shook impossibly more than they had before, he was just barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Amos had to support him all the way to the main deck.

Everything seemed so much brighter. The lights burned Alex's eyes, the alarms blaring through the Roci made him want to scream. And his shoulder, God, his shoulder ached. Every step he took sent another ripple of pain throughout his entire body.

If Amos hadn't been supporting him, he would have fallen ten times over.

Alex didn't know how he didn't fall when climbing the ladder to the flight deck. He took it slow, slow enough that Amos started pushing against him.

Alex blinked once he reached the top, then he was in his chair. He breathed out some kind of command to get everyone strapped in, habit and familiarity helping his sluggish mind.

He rested his hands on the controls, trying to ignore the way they became slick with his own blood.

His own blood— God, had he been shot? Was he bleeding out? Was his blood strewn about the halls of the Roci, staining her pristine walls, dirtying her?

Alex took in a shaky breath. He still couldn't breathe through his nose and was becoming too aware of pain there. He didn't think he could find somewhere that wasn't in pain.

He flicked his hand, starting the procedure to undock. He waited as the airlock receded back into the ship. The Roci jostled as something hit her. There was a red alert on the terminal, locking off and depressurizing one area.

Alex pulled his fingers back and he fired up the drive, already far away from the station and moving further every second. Gravity depleted, leaving a few strewn objects floating in the air.

There was a ship firing at them. Alex wasted no time in his retaliation. He was all at once thankful for his hours on seemingly useless simulations.

Their pursuer fell back almost as soon as Alex returned fire.

He let the Roci slow, to ease into 0.5G.

His great effort he pulled his hands from the controls. He was breathing heavily with an agonizing twinge in his shoulder with each rise and fall. He hugged his chest, curling up a little.

The wave of adrenaline and energy that seemed to come to him miraculously was fading rapidly now that the danger was over. A darkness was creeping over him, drowning every sight and sound.

His head fell to rest on the controls, the Roci made a hum of protest that he felt reverberate through his bones.

"'M sorry girl," He whispered, barely able to open his mouth let alone get sound the to travel past his throat.

Alex closed his eyes just as he felt a heavy, warm, familiar hand grab onto his good shoulder.

---

Alex woke up in the medbay. Bright, white lights blinded him as he blinked awake. His face scrunched and he closed his eyes again, large red spots remained against his eye-lids.

He felt the nice fuzz of painkillers or a sedative. He hadn't had either since the Donnager, with how safe he'd been hiding within the metal shell of the Roci. His girl shielded him from so much. It figured the one time he left her comfort was the time he'd get hurt.

He opened his eyes again, slowly, letting them adjust. Looking around, he found that he was alone. There wasn't another soul in sight, no sign of anyone's presence aside from Alex's wounds being bandaged.

He sat up, feeling a twinge in his shoulder as he did so. He leaned over to look at the autodoc. There was a model of a person— or him, he supposed— with red lights against the arm and shoulder and one over the nose.

Alex sniffed, finally feeling the cotton in his nose. There were too many things going on; even though there was little to no stimuli around him, it felt like too much.

He pulled a hand up to touch his nose. It felt wrong, crooked. He sniffed again, resisting the urge to pull out the cotton.

Alex gingerly pulled his arm from the autodoc, letting it fall to his side. He stood carefully, his vision going spotty as a feeling of nausea made itself known. He breathed through his mouth, working around the cotton in his nose, quick and a little panicky.

Then the doors slid open, and Naomi was staring at him with a look somewhere between surprise, pity, and maybe a hint of understanding. Funnily enough, he didn't think he could recall a time when Naomi was ever on this side of being in the medbay.

He squeezed the armrest as she hurried into the room.

"How are you feeling?" Naomi asked.

"Like I got shot." He tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Naomi's attempt certainly did.

She grabbed his bicep and eased him back down. He obediently put his arm back through the autodoc as she moved around to check it.

"Is everyone else okay?" Alex asked. He cleared his throat at how bad he sounded. He knew he had a rough morning voice, but this was to a new extreme. He sounded like he hadn't anything to drink in days— that might be true, depending on how long he'd been out.

"You were the only one to get hurt," Naomi answered, "The Roci's a little beat up though. But you got us out of there, somehow." She smiled, a bit more genuine this time, with teeth and all. Alex couldn't give as much enthusiasm, but he tried his best.

"What all happened?" he asked, "I was in-and-out for most of it." He waved his hand in a so-so gesture.

"Amos said you got shot, fell on your face and broke your nose." She pointed at her own nose, "then he dragged you onto the Roci and gave you a stim so you could fly us out of there."

"How kind of him." Alex shivered. He felt a bit smaller from the whole ordeal. He was so powerful in the Roci, practically untouchable. But in a gunfight he was just as weak and soft as any other person in the Sol.

"You really scared him."

Naomi was fiddling with her hand terminal. As she pushed a button there was a prick in Alex's arm. He hissed as a stronger feeling of numbness flooded his entire being. He relaxed into the seat as the pain faded to the back of his mind.

"I doubt that," He mumbled, his mouth feeling gummy and words slowing like honey in his throat. "Don' think he does fear." He closed his eyes before blinking them open again. He didn't really want to sleep anymore.

"In his own way." Naomi shrugged. She placed a soft and gentle hand on the crook of Alex's arm. "You should talk with him."

"Tried that."

"Try again."

Alex looked at her. He decided he would rather be asleep and high on painkillers than go wherever this conversation was.

"Get some rest, Alex." Naomi pitied him, and he was grateful for it. She squeezed his arm before letting go.

Alex obeyed. He let his head fall further back against the cushioned chair. He watched Naomi for a few more moments before his eyes became too heavy. The running lights kicked off just seconds before he closed his eyes.

Who knew that all it took to get some sleep was getting shot? Maybe he should try it more often.

Alex laughed to himself before he succumbed to the soft pull of slumber.

---

Alex wasn't too surprised that, once he was finally discharged, his feet brought him back to the flight deck. He was even less surprised, maybe even a little disappointed, when he loaded up another simulation.

The halls of the Rocinante were cold at this time, late enough that everyone but him were asleep. The running lights shown a moody orange, different from the usual darkness. They tinted the pristine walls in what should have been warm light. They only served to make Alex's shivers worsen.

He eased his way up to the flight deck, taking it one step at a time. His whole body ached, like he had been shot all over instead of just his shoulder. He even had to stop half-way up the ladder to catch his breath.

Alex was glad to collapse in his crash couch. He let himself look up at the ceiling, stretching his legs out and carefully folding his hands over his stomach. He closed his eyes, wondering for a moment if he could sleep here.

The flight deck felt more like his place than his room did. He supposed, out of all of them, the ship was his home. They were all family, she belonged to all of them, but Alex had taken note that he was the only one to ever fall asleep anywhere but his own room.

He was also the only one who still wore the Tachi jumpsuits on full display.

Alex wasn't much of an odd one, he liked to think, but in this group he was different. He seemed to be the only one still mildly patriotic. He certainly had been the only one suggesting to give the protomolecule to his home planet.

Alex sat up with a breath. He ran a hand over his face, dragging it down a bit more dramatically than he needed to. He let it fall against the arm rest.

He adjusted himself to sitting further up, his back straight. He placed his hands gingerly on the controls, feathering his fingers over them.

Then he finally accepted there was no avoiding it, and fired up the simulation. He wondered if this is what people with addictions felt like. Did they ever have granduers of not giving in one day? Did they wake up in the morning and tell themselves they wouldn't do it today, only to be gone to the world by noon?

He already felt his eyes water as the screens lit up. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, and let his hands fall fully onto the controls.

He lost count of how many simulations he had run, and failed, before there were the loud clanking of magboots behind him.

The running lights had gone dark sometime during his session. Alex had a short moment of panic that he might've woken someone up. He would hate for Holden to find him up here, or worse, Naomi. She would give him an earful for putting himself to work so quick.

Alex didn't know if he felt relieved or not when he turned to see Amos hovering at the top of the ladder. He was just barely illuminated by the screens.

Alex shut down the simulations. The screens turned dark, shadowing the flight deck further. He turned his crash couch around, looking at Amos silently. For a few moments he could just barely make out his silhouette before Amos lit up his hand terminal and bathed them both in ghastly light.

"You need to sleep." Amos said, ever the one to get to the point. Alex didn't know if the Earther knew how to be avoidant. Amos probably just didn't realize there was a problem half of the time.

"I've rested enough." Alex shrugged his hurt shoulder, fighting a wince from his idiocy.

Amos didn't leave his spot. Alex frowned.

"You really saved my ass back there," He muttered. For once, his eyes fell to the floor, not staring at Alex like he could see his sins.

Alex shivered. He never realized how cold the Roci could get.

"I'm the one who got shot," Alex huffed. "You returned the favor quick." He smiled, a little sad. His face was written in self-deprecation and he knew it. He was a bad actor and only felt all the more bare in front of Amos. Even when the man wasn't looking, Alex couldn't help but leave everything open for him to see.

Amos didn't reply save for a loose shrug. Neither of them spoke for another moment, and Alex wondered if the conversation was over. Amos was one to hover— Alex had figured that much with all the times he's supervised his cooking.

He turned back around, the dark screens filling his vision but not lighting up. He placed his hand back onto the controls, but paused before doing anything else.

There were little flecks of dark spots on the controls. He lifted his hand and picked at them. They flaked off easily.

A sickening feeling invaded Alex's gut, weighing his entire body down, it seemed. He frowned, his shoulders falling abruptly. He moved his hand to rest in his lap, suddenly feeling very disinclined from touching the controls.

Amos' heavy hand fell onto his good shoulder. He squeezed it.

Alex wrung his own hands, twisting his ring back and forth.

"I'll get it cleaned up, she'll be good as new."

Alex hummed. Amos squeezed his shoulder again. Alex's hand fell on top of Amos'.

"Come on," Amos urged, "You need sleep."

He practically pulled Alex from his seat. Alex felt very sluggish, his movements were languid and his eyes drooped. He allowed himself to be easily led by Amos.

He seemed to blink, and then he was in his own quarters. The room was dark, empty, and lonely. Alex was getting tired of laying down and staring at the ceiling until the running lights cut on.

He turned, and Amos was still standing at the door. He was shadowed by the dim lights in the hall, Alex hadn't even noticed they were turned back on. They gave Alex only a silhouette to look at.

Amos had an arm propped up against the door frame, making him just a bit smaller. It felt more like he was towering over Amos despite how infinitesimal he felt.

Alex took a few shaky steps back until he hit his bed. He let himself fall onto it. He slouched down, hands loosely clasped together as he hunched over himself.

Amos slowly, like he was approaching a frightened child, entered the room. The bed sank beneath his weight. His arm barely pressed against Alex's.

He debated for a moment leaning against Amos. He wanted to cross that line, despite the burning shame it set ablaze. He wanted to lean against someone, to put his entire weight and being on another person for once.

Amos couldn't possibly be that person, but there was no one else. Naomi and Holden had each other— they were content with each other. They would always open their arms in his time of need, Alex knew, somehow. But there weren't here now.

Amos wrapped an arm around him. He let himself be moved.

Sometimes he wondered if Amos could read his mind.

"I killed a man," Alex mumbled. He blinked slowly, staring out in the hall. His chest felt a little lighter seeing the door still wide open. It felt like an open escape— where he would even go, Alex had no idea— probably back to the flight deck, back to feed his addiction. "Two, I think."

"You did." Alex scowled, cutting his eyes towards Amos. Amos wasn't looking at him, though. He was staring straight ahead as Alex had been. Alex felt a bit better witnessing that. Amos wasn't staring through him, he wasn't even looking at him, this time.

"But you've killed before," Amos added softly, as if that made it any better.

"That was in the Roci. I never saw their faces." He bit his lip, released a breath. He wasn't ready to admit this personal crime, "It felt more like a game, another simulation. This was real." He took in a heavy breath and held it.

Maybe he could make himself pass out. He was off the good painkillers, there was nothing else to get him to sleep. Maybe he could make himself hypoxic and feel all loopy and confused before collapsing.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" Alex sighed.

"You wouldn't have needed to kill those guys if you stayed on the ship like you wanted." Amos' head fell. He pulled Alex a little closer.

Alex twisted his ring, pulled it back and forth. He let it get to the tip of his finger before pushing it back down. It settled snugly back in its place.

Alex leaned his head on Amos' shoulder. Amos didn't move, but he didn't push him away either.

Alex watched him work his jaw, could see him swallow. He blinked slowly again while Amos continued to stare. Amos' fingers were starting to dig into his shoulder.

"Sex won't help," Amos blurted.

Alex laughed, pressed his forehead into Amos' shoulder. He laughed as quietly as he could until he was short of breath.

"You really are a one-track mind kind of guy?" Alex patted Amos' shoulder before pushing himself up. "God, Amos." He fell back against the wall, pressing Amos' arm against his back. He had the sudden thought that maybe he was the one trapping Amos.

Amos was smiling at him though. He had that shit-eating grin, wide with teeth, that seemed to brighten the room despite its questionable sincerity. Alex couldn't tell if he had said it to lighten the mood or if he was being fully serious.

"It really wouldn't help me, partner," Alex smiled at Amos when the Earther raised a brow. "I don't do sex." He shook his head, his smile softening but never faltering.

"You have a kid?" Amos laughed.

"I'm a Martian!"

Amos pulled him back up into a hug. He rocked Alex as they continued to laugh.

Somehow, they found themselves laying on their sides. Amos was pressed against the wall, behind Alex, with his arms wrapped tightly around the Martian. Alex, surprisingly, didn't mind. He placed a hand over Amos' arm, rubbing his thumb gently.

"We are one fucked up crew," Alex mumbled. He closed his eyes as he felt a rumble in Amos' chest. He couldn't help the smile that graced his lips.

"Sorry I've been an ass," Alex added after a moment. "I chose to protect you instead of that drop-ship. I chose you, and I know I wouldn't choose otherwise if I could do it again."

Amos pressed his face against the Alex's neck. He felt a few puff of breath feather across his skin. He thought Amos squeezed him a bit tighter for a moment.

"Go to sleep, Martian." Amos spoke against his skin.

"G'night, Earther." Alex smiled. He ran his fingers lightly over Amos' arm, back and forth, until he fell asleep.

okay so I have some thoughts on some certain scenes that I'd like to share: Everything with Alex worrying about the water is more so with them being on a ship and having little access to resources they didn't already have, and I also wanted to go a bit more into the water scarcity that was relevant in S1. A mutual did point out that the water issue was mostly happening to the poorer people of the Belt, but I figured it'd still make sense for the Roci since they are technically poor?

Alex got angry at Amos so late in the fic mainly because of how sleep deprived he was becoming and that was what was mainly making him irrational. I tried to communicate that he doesn't really, and can't, blame Amos for Spin Station. It was a lose-lose situation even if Amos hadn't gotten up to fix the ship since they would end up getting hit by the stealth ship.

I described Amos as "like a dog" instead of the usual "like a puppy," because there has been a bit of Alex not liking how Amos always does whatever someone he thinks he should follow says, like a dog.

I also tried to show that Amos was starting to see Alex as someone to protect and follow by him doing what Alex told him to in the kitchen.

Another thing is that, to me, Alex seems like an idealist himself. He sees himself as better than he is and ends up being disappointed in himself when he isn't. This leads to him obsessively trying to make himself better like with the simulations. It also adds a bit of irony with how he sees Holden as an idealist or better man, and while he might've been at the start of the show, it's become more that Holden it optimistic about situations instead. Alex seems to be a bit more a realist when it comes to his own safety and that of the crew's, which is why I put that bit of worry for the upcoming fight in there :)

Also I have no grounds for this except that I've been questioning my own sexuality and am now projecting but Alex is ace to me. I lied and do have some grounds for this as it could be a possible other reason for him leaving Mars and its ideals as I believe there was once a mention of Mars trying to get people to have more kids while Earth was trying to have more population control (this might've just been in a fic though). Alex also just have a bit of a theme of freedom and escaping society's expectations and I felt like with how Mars is, him being ace would fit. idk, like I said this is probably me projecting a little lol

anyways, sorry my little essay, hope you all enjoyed, love ya'll <3

[sadiewritingco]

Masterlist - Stranger Things

WIP Not a Ghost or a Roach – 1 2 3  AO3 

[sadiewritingco]

Not a Ghost or a Roach - Chapter 2 

Summary - The Party tries to figure out what to do with Steve injured. Their only hope is to wait for him to get better before Vecna makes his move… too bad they're not that lucky.

 Relationship and Tags/ New Tags - Robin Buckley/ Nancy Wheeler, pre-slash, Cursed Steve Harrington, Not really but also kind of so enough for the tag new tags may not be featured in this chapter but do apply to the whole fic 

Chapter - 2/3       Chapter Word Count  - 7,144/? 

Chp 1 – Next  

AO3 

many asked and now you shall receive behold I HAVE GIVEN THEE RONANCE!

This chapter is kind of more Dustin focused with a few other POVs around

Hope you all enjoy :)

Steve was only out for about an hour. In that time, however, there was much panic.

Robin was just barely able to stop Steve from hitting his head on the floor, Max had to help her carefully lower Steve to the ground. Dustin ran off, screaming for help in an even higher pitch than usual.

The others arrived quickly. All of them were shouting and hardly anyone had any idea what to do. It was only when Nancy yelled at Eddie to help move him that anything was done.

The two hauled Steve through the house, the rest of the group flocking around them like an escort. Steve was completely limp in their arms.

Steve was placed on his bed in his horrendously bland room. Nancy started to redo his bandages, covering the dark veins that had begun creeping underneath his skin— the veins that she purposefully did not think about not being there just a few hours before. She taped the bandages once they were wrapped tightly and sat back.

Nancy ordered everyone out, then, leaving just her and Robin, who lingered in the doorway. She couldn't blame her, they were clearly very close. Nancy still didn't quite believe Robin when she said that her and Steve were platonic with a capital P.

Instead of making eye contact with the other girl, Nancy let her gaze wander around Steve's room. She forgot how ridiculous it looked, with the plaid walls and matching curtains. There were very few posters covering the offending wall-paper— somehow they looked performative.

She rubbed her hands together and stuck them between her legs. She pressed her lips together as she started to run out of things to look at. Nancy tried not to glance at Robin as she re-entered the room and pulled a beanbag closer to Steve's bed.

There was a plant on his desk, something that wasn't there two tears ago. It looked like if it went a single day without water it would wilt.

"He's such an idiot," Robin mumbled. She folded her arms over the edge of Steve's bed and rested her chin there. Nancy suddenly felt very aware of the fact that she was still on Steve's bed— which really shouldn't feel weird.

"Yeah," Nancy said after a moment of silence. She switched which leg crossed the other, her stands still stuffed between them.

She didn't know why she was so nervous. Sure, Steve just fell unconscious and has some really fucked up injuries, but she felt like she'd be a bit more composed. After everything that's happened to her, this didn't feel that huge.

For a moment Nancy cursed Steve for all the awkwardness he brought out of her; not that he wasn't the most embarrassing thing to witness sometimes. She found herself wishing that he had put in more effort to stay a friend, instead of becoming this new stranger that occasionally joined her in saving the world.

"I mean- why wouldn't he tell us how messed up he was?" Robin asked in offense. She sat upright again. "He really should know by now." She grumbled.

"He has been concussed like- twice? And not bothered to really tell anyone," Nancy huffed. She smiled at the thought of Hopper grilling Steve after that fateful Halloween when he somehow got into a fight with Billy Hargrove while the world was ending.

"Self-sacrificial asshole," Robin muttered. She sunk down into the beanbag. After a moment, she shot forward again and grabbed Steve's hand tightly. Nancy could see her knuckles whitening.

She blinked, then looked towards the window. The room seemed to suddenly get a few degrees warmer.

"You're a really good… friend," Nancy said quietly. She glanced back at Robin, almost shyly.

"Thanks," Robin answered, "Y'know, one time he said we were platonic soulmates." She chuckled.

"You're joking." Platonic. They were really going all in on this platonic thing. She really couldn't understand why. The only real reason she could think of was that Steve was still hung-up on the social hierarchies of high school, afraid to be caught dating a band-kid. Even so, they didn't do much to hide it.

"I swear he really did!" Robin continued.

"How in the world did you become platonic soulmates with Steve the Hair Harrington?" Nancy asked, rolling her eyes as she said Steve's stupid old title.

"Being captured by Russians together helped." Robin smiled, and Nancy felt something weird and fluttery in her chest. That nameless feeling was quickly replaced with dread at the mention of Starcourt— she still didn't know the full story of what happened to everyone that was underground.

"But we had also spent all summer together, getting to know each other. I'd make fun of him for every date he tried- and failed- the get. I kept a scoreboard, he didn't get a single date all summer!" She held up her hand, pressing he index and thumb together to make her point.

"Thank god! He needed a wake up call." Nancy leaned back against the wall. She stretched out her legs.

"I know, right?" Robin agreed. "but anyways- he'd flip me off every time I held up that stupid board, then he'd make sure I'd get stuck with Erica's little group of friends when they asked for a sample of every god damned flavor." Robin groaned at the memory, letting her head fall to the back the the beanbag.

"She is a menace," Nancy laughed. "She was even worse when she was younger- y'know sometimes her parents would send her with Lucas and I'd have to babysit."

"At least Stevie took that job for you."

"Yeah." The two trailed off into silence. Robin looked back at Steve and Nancy suddenly felt very guilty for sort of making fun of him to his best-friend-possible-girlfriend— even though Robin had plenty to say herself. Nancy looked to her hands.

"What do you think that stuff was?" Robin asked quietly, her eyes on the bandages covering Steve's midsection.

Nancy shivered at the thought of it. She wasn't afraid to admit that it was honestly disgusting. There were dark veins of some infernal thing from the Upside Down underneath those bandages, underneath Steve's skin. She had thought they might have been moving too, writhing ever so slightly.

It reminded her of that thing that was in El's leg in the summer. These were just smaller, and much less lively. She half expected a giant flesh monster, made from the people of Hawkins, to smash through the roof and take them all.

and wasn't that a terrifying probability? While they'd all been so worried about the murders and Vecna, someone could have been making another one of those things— taking over Hawkins one person at a time.

"I don't know," Nancy answered quietly. She really didn't know. It was starting to feel like she didn't know anything anymore.

That clearly wasn't the answer Robin hoped for. She sucked in a tight breath and pressed her lips together. She reached forward and had one hand holding Steve's with the other gripping the sheets tightly.

Nancy sat up, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. She leaned over and grabbed Robin's free hand tightly. The other girl looked up in near shock, her cheeks a little red.

"He's gonna be okay," Nancy assured, "He always is." She smiled and squeezed Robin's hand a bit more. She didn't let go, though, because Robin squeezed hers just as tightly and her grip didn't slacken. So Nancy sat there, leaning half-way over the bed, her back aching from the awkward position, holding hands with Robin Buckely.

---

Steve blinked awake not too long after Nancy and Robin's conversation. His vision was blurry and his head foggy. He groaned as he tried to sit up. There was then a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the pillows.

"Careful," someone urged.

"Wha…" he mumbled. His head fell heavily onto the pillow and he squeezed his eyes shut. There was a dip in the bed beside his head.

"You passed out, dingus," Robin explained with a stilted laugh. She put her hand against his forehead. She winced at how hot he felt. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew Steve shouldn't feel like a god damned furnace.

Steve blinked up at her, squinting his eyes as he took in her clear look of worry. It wasn't a rare sight, Robin was a chronic worrier, but it wasn't usually directed so intensely towards him.

"Wait-" He was interrupted with wet coughs, the kind you get at the end of a cold, the kind that earns sideways glances and scrunched noses. He was vaguely aware of someone helping him sit up slowly. He felt a hand rubbing up and down his back as he hacked up a lung.

He took in a deep breath, still feeling a tickle in his throat. He took the risk of an exhale, then another breath, then again. he sighed in relief when the coughing was sure to be gone. It still felt like there was something stuck in his throat, like a pill he took dry.

"Passed out?" He asked hoarsely, squinting at Robin. The lights were too bright for him to do anything but. There was a pulsing in his head that timed perfectly with each beat of his heart; he was in the crux of a migraine.

"When Max was cleaning the bites-" she pointed down to Steve's stomach, which was completely covered in bandages— real bandages, not someone's sweater this time, "we noticed there was something… weird about the wounds and then you kinda freaked out a teensy bit and collapsed."

"What'd'ya mean weird?" He asked reluctantly.

Robin looked away. Then Nancy, who he genuinely had no idea was in the room with them, cleared her throat. He jumped, then winced as his entire being seemed to throb from the quick movement.

"Remember last summer, when that thing was in El's leg?" She asked.

Steve's eyes widened. Was there a part of a fucking flesh monster in his stomach? was it going to burst out and start killing things? Like in Alien?

Nancy must have noticed his spiral, as she was quick to rethink her explanation.

"No! Not like that." She waved her hands in front of her, as if she were fanning away the horrid idea from his head. "I mean, there're these weird- veiny- things… around the wounds." This was doing little to stop Steve's catastrophizing. "And I think that, since you're running a fever, it might be some kind of infection."

"Like a zombie infection?" Steve turned quickly from Nancy to Robin and back again, as if his head was on a swivel.

"Could be rabies," Robin said quietly in a way that seemed teasing but could also be very genuine. It could be rabies- he could have rabies and it'd be way too late for anyone to do anything about it because, as Robin has repeatedly and unhelpfully said, once you start having symptoms of rabies there's no curing it.

"Oh my god," Steve groaned miserably. He pressed his palms against his eyes and fell back onto his pillow in a much rougher way than he should've.

"Whatever it is." Nancy grabbed his hand, cutting through his spiral of terrifying what-if's. "We're going to figure it out. For all we know, it could be nothing." She smiled, a sweet thing that hid how formidable she was. It was a bit comforting, knowing that someone like Nancy Wheeler was going to do whatever she could to keep him alive.

"Right, yeah- that's great," he huffed, leaned back against the pillows and crossing his arms. This was just what they needed. There was a psycho wizard running around trying to crack open Hawkins like a egg and now he had infected wounds.

Nancy and Robin shared a glance, like they knew something he didn't, that brought heat to his neck. He pressed his lips together, sucking on the bottom lip before popping them. He leaned his head back against the backboard, staring up at the ceiling until his eyes watered from the lights.

"So what are you gonna do while I'm out?" He asked quietly. There was a moment of silence that told him all he needed to know.

"Wait?" Nancy said with little confidence.

"I don't think we have that time, Nance," Steve whispered. "It hurts to talk, for fuck's sake, I'm out of the fight." His voice cracked, he didn't want to be useless at a time like this. He sounded more devastated than angry about the situation, his voice didn't raise, though he didn't know if it could at the moment.

"Vecna isn't gonna wait around for Max's walkman to run out of batteries. He'll find someone else." He adjusted where he sat, stretching his legs a little bit. His ankle popped again, reminding him that it was still sore. He shook his head and leaned back again, returning to staring at the ceiling dejectedly. "We don't have time to wait around." He whispered, closing his eyes.

There was a long time when no one said anything. Steve didn't open his eyes— he was somewhat hoping he'd fall asleep and it wouldn't be his problem anymore. But he was one of the few adults taking on an interdimensional threat. he didn't have the right to let this become someone else's problem.

Right as Robin started to speak, there was a light tapping at the door. Steve turned his head and looked on drearily as the door cracked open and one Eddie Munson poked his head through. His eyes widened when they met Steve's, and a soft smile graced his lips.

"I was- uh… just coming to check in?" Munson said cautiously. He walked fully in the room and stood awkwardly at the door. He was wringing his hands. "The kids are a little freaked." He shrugged.

Steve fought a small smile. Eddie looked a little freaked too.

"We'll be right down," Nancy promised.

Eddie nodded, but made no move to leave. His eyes landed on Steve again, but he wasn't making eye contact. He was staring directly at Steve's bandages. He guessed Munson must have seen the weird veins the girls had been talking about, hell, everyone probably did.

Steve moved his arms so they covered his midsection, hugging himself carefully.

Eddie blinked, as if broken from a trance, then his eyes flashed to meet Steve's. Steve could actually see him swallow before the metalhead looked to his shoes.

"I'll uh," He pointed to the hallway with his thumbs, "I'll go let them know." He smiled brightly, covering up the obvious awkwardness of the moment. For some reason, it made Steve smile a bit too.

Then Robin's hand was on Steve's knee, and she was staring at him so intently it made him want to run out the room too.

"We'll be right back, then we figure all this out," she decreed, nodding her head stiffly.

Steve gave her a quick jerk of his head in response. She squeezed his knee, then both girls stood and headed towards the door.

"Don't die on us, dingus," Robin said softly as she glanced back at him.

"I think I still have a bit of luck left." He smiled at her, trying to alleviate as much worry as he could.

"You better." Then she was out the door, shutting it behind her quietly.

Steve looked around his bland room. In truth, he hadn't slept here in… a while. He had taken every chance he could to spend the night at Robin's or to stay downstairs during one of the Party's numerous sleepovers. Steve felt none of the comfort that one should while laying in their own bed, nor the familiarity of being in his own room.

It just made him feel cold.

---

Dustin is pacing. His feet travel along the edge of the large red, almost royal, carpet that travels from the foyer to the living room. He passes by the stairs with each turn, waiting for someone to come down and give him good news.

He does not wait for bad news. He refuses to believe that something has gone horribly wrong— even though it kind of already has.

Max grabs his wrist as he makes it to the living room again. He stops, and she gives him one of her looks. Then, she drags him to the couch in front of the TV where Lucas already is and forces him to sit. She plops down next to him with a huff.

"You're just as bad as Mike," she grumbles. Lucas puts his hand on Dustin's shoulder and squeezes it.

"Sorry," Dustin mumbles, bunching up his shoulders and looking down. He scuffs his shoe against the floor, causing a faint scraping noise. He does it again, and again, waiting for Max to slap his arm or push against him or give him another look.

He hears her sigh, loud and obvious, but she doesn't make him stop. She does, however put her headphones on and turns up her music so loud Dustin can even hear it.

Erica, however, kicks Dustin's foot, stretching her leg out just to barely reach from where she sat on the other side of Lucas. Dustin scowled at her with no real heat, and she stuck her tongue out at him with just as little animosity.

Lucas sighs next to him and sinks further into the couch cushions. Dustin glances at him, but he has his head leaned against the back of the couch and is staring straight up at the ceiling.

Dustin rubs his hands together, then wipes them on his pants to try and wipe the sweat off. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, joining in on the chorus of sighs, then leans back and tries to relax.

"it's been too long," He says quietly. He doesn't know why he's being so quiet, why any of them are. Steve's house has always been a loud place, filled with laughter and yelling from the Party. There was always something going on here, it was always so full of energy— now it felt almost haunted.

Lucas nodded silently. Dustin wishes someone would say something. He hated this; he hated waiting in silence for something to go wrong, he hated not knowing. At least with Hopper he wasn't sitting there for hours waiting to see if he'd miraculously be okay.

He couldn't imagine how people could just wait like this, when they have a family member being apart of some horrible accident and bedridden in the hospital. His nerves were so bad it felt like there was something crawling under his skin, like that piece of the Mind Flayer that was in El's leg, or whatever those veins were in Steve.

He shivered, hunching over again and pressing his hands together between his legs. He closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to his knees. There was a hand on his back, then another on his shoulder; Max and Lucas trying to help as best they could.

"He'll be okay," Max whispered. Then, almost too quiet to hear and filled a despairing anger, "He has to be."

He did. He had to be okay. He had to come down those stairs, laugh off the scare, and pull all three of them into a tight hug. Then he'll leave and go make some popcorn as they all fight over what movie to watch, or who gets which blanket, or who gets the corner of the couch. They'd forget about Vecna and the Upside Down for a night.

There was a series of thuds rushing down the stairs. Dustin shot up and twisted around to watch as Eddie came down. He jumped the last two, then came into the living room and plopped down into a plush chair— the one Will always took during their movie nights before he moved— with a loud sigh.

He clapped his hands together over his face, breathing heavily through his nose. Dustin blinked, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked at the others, who were both as keyed into Eddie as he was. Lucas and Erica shared a glance with scrunched noses.

Then, Eddie looked up, having finally noticed the group of young teens staring him down with the focus of a predator. He blinked, then sank down into the chair, his legs stretched far out in front of him.

"Well?" Lucas asked after it became apparent that Eddie wasn't going to say anything.

"He's awake," Eddie answered. He didn't sound too happy about it. "The girls'll be down in a minute."

Dustin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He rubbed his hands together again. His right leg started bouncing up and down as he suddenly felt the urge to move again. He knew Max was eyeing it, wanting to put her hand on his knee and stop his fidgeting; however, once again, she let him continue. Even Erica didn't try and stop him this time.

"But he's not coming down?" Max asked with a raised brow. It was another one of her iconic looks. Dustin wondered when she became the terrifying warden of the party, bossy and easy to disappointment.

Eddie cleared his throat. He sat up, pushing against the armrests. He moved his hands to his lap and started fiddling with his rings.

"Stevie's on bed-rest." He smiled and looked back up to all of them. His smile fell quickly though, and he looked back down. He pulled off one of his rings and started bouncing it from one hand to the other.

Max scoffed and crossed her arms aggressively. She didn't like that answer and felt no qualms in making it obvious.

There were more footsteps above them. Dustin turned as they moved to the stairs. He could see Nancy coming down the stairs, then Robin a few seconds later. They both went into the living room, standing at the entrance way like they were leading a meeting.

Dustin sat rigid, his body fighting between leaning forward in curiosity and expectation or shrinking away in avoidance. At least the others all seemed just as interested. However, he was the only one who still kept an eye on the stairs; waiting for one more person to come bounding down with a big smile.

It was like the whole room was holding its breath. The silence of the house felt palpable as all eyes bore into the girls.

Nancy cleared her throat.

"Steve's not going to be able to fight," she declared.

"What!?" Dustin exclaimed, jumping to his feet. His voice echoed through the house at the sudden increase in volume.

"We need him!" Lucas said, just as loud.

"That's bullshit!" Erica snapped, as if some authoritative figure had just kicked Steve completely out of the Party.

"We were already fucked," Max huffed. She seemed to go limp in her annoyance, letting her head fall back and her whole body sink into the cushions. Her arms were still tightly crossed.

Nancy put her hands up, demanding silence with the motion. Dustin clamped his mouth shut, knowing by now to not challenge Nancy Wheeler in such a dire situation.

"We're not fucked, Max." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, "We just need a plan." She sat down then, at the edge of the couch, away from the group but at the perfect place to stare them all down. Robin moved to sit in a chair opposite of Eddie's.

"But- like- Steve's okay, right?" Dustin asked tentatively. He slowly sat back down, happy to be sandwiched inbetween Max and Lucas again. It was oddly reminiscent of when they were interrogated by Callahan and Powell.

"Yes," Nancy said. She looked to her hands, only for a moment. "But I don't know if he's going to get worse. So, I think it's safe to say that Steve's on the bench."

Dustin bit his lip, his teeth pressing down painfully. Nancy opened her mouth to say something else, something he was sure he should be listening to.

He stood up stiffly, shoulders hunched and hands in tight fists. He left the room and bounded up the stairs, not bothering to listen for anyone telling him to come back or to leave Steve alone. No one followed him, anyway.

He stopped at the door to Steve's room. He had never actually been in there, all he'd seen of it was a small glance as Steve would quickly pass through the door, leaving no one any time to get a better look at what was inside. He held his hand up, still in a fist. He pulled back before knocking, deciding instead to just barge in.

He opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it again with a soft click. Looking around, Dustin felt almost queasy at Steve's room. The guest room in his house was more decorated than this— then again, Steve had spent a lot of time spending the night in that room.

All in all, finally seeing Steve's room felt anticlimactic. Sure, he was expecting something a bit more personality, but maybe the room's lack of life was what made Dustin so uninterested in it now that he'd finally gotten to go inside.

Dustin approached the bed slowly. Steve was laying propped up against his pillows, his head facing the ceiling. His eyes were closed though, and Dustin suddenly felt very guilty for the possibility of waking him.

Nevertheless, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Steve groaned. Dustin lifted up the covers and crawled under them. He rested his head on Steve's shoulder like a little kid who just barely survived a hoard of demonic dogs, not like the high school freshmen that he was.

He could feel Steve let out a harsher breath against his hair. Then there was an arm wrapping around Dustin's shoulder and pulling him closer. Dustin grabbed onto the fabric of Steve's shirt and held it tightly.

"You worried 'bout me, Henderson?" Steve said softly, weakly. He was fine not even an hour ago. He was fine. Now he's on bed-rest, as Eddie so eloquently put it.

"Yeah," Dustin answered hoarsely. He sounded like he'd been crying and sobbing for hours, when not even a single tear had yet fallen. He cleared his throat and ducked his head further down.

"You know I'm gonna be okay." Steve leaned his head on top of Dustin's. "We all are. We always are."

Hopper wasn't, he wants to say. He doesn't, because Hopper's death isn't something they've ever talked about before, not after his funeral, nut when it was just the two of them. It felt almost disrespectful for Dustin to bring him up now.

"What if we're not this time?" He asked instead. He closed his eyes as Steve squeezes him just a bit tighter. Dustin wondered if he just wasn't trying to holding him as tightly as he used to, or if he couldn't.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Dustin." Steve promised softly. Dustin can still feel his breath against the top of his head. He could hear the thumping of his heart beneath his chest. As Steve started to run his hand up and down his arm, fingernails scraping against Dustin's skin like feathers, Dustin tried to sleep.

He was stuck awake, though. He refused to sleep as the thought that Steve might not wake up plagues him.

---

Steve woke up with a soreness in his throat. There was that clammy feeling of sleep in his mouth, the one that made him not want to breathe near anyone in fear of bad breath. There was also still the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, which made him realize he hadn't even had a chance to rinse it before everything happened.

As Steve blinked blearily awake, he discovered it was still dark. The only reason he could see at all was a small nightlight in the very corner of the room, hidden behind a dresser so only a sliver of light could break through.

He adjusted in his bed a moment, hissing as the movement pulled at the bandages. He noticed that Dustin wasn't there anymore, hopefully he was moved to a comfier spot downstairs with the others. Or maybe he just didn't want to see Steve slowly wither away like an old dog. Steve didn't blame him for that.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at a couple knots and cringing at the feeling of grease. He supposed he didn't really have the chance to shower either. He still felt all the grime and slime of the Upside Down, lingering against his skin in ghostly touches. He hated knowing that now his sheets were likely covered in it too.

He tried to ignore it as he rest further against his pillow. He closed his eyes deliberately, hoping for sleep to take him once again. He pressed his tongue to the top of his mouth, trying to ignore the taste of sleep and blood— he couldn't tell what bothered him more— with what little strength he could muster.

He opened his eyes not a minute later, deciding returning to a blissful, dreamless sleep was hopeless.

Steve sat up slowly, a hand tightly holding onto the bedsheets as his side twinged. He moved his hand to the backboard and pushed himself to stand. He pushed through a wave of dizziness and pain as he moved to his bathroom.

He turned the sink on and splashed water on his face before leaning down and drinking directly from the faucet. He scrunched his nose at the taste of it. He hated drinking in the middle of the night or in the morning, it always tasted so horrible before he'd brushed his teeth.

Steve then did exactly that, replacing the taste of sleep and blood with minty toothpaste as he scrubbed his teeth clean. He even took a normal, albeit weak, mint, just to be sure the awful taste would go away.

Steve mused the idea of trying to go back to bed again, but the bright lights of his bathroom combined with the cold water still dripping down his face had woken him too much. Not to mention the pain in his sides was steadily growing.

There was also the growing need to make sure everyone was okay.

Instead of getting comfy under the warm, plush covers of his bed, he went to the door and silently creaked it open. He limped over to the stairs as quietly as he could and slowly, very slowly, made his way down. He held onto the railing like a lifeline the whole way.

He limped to the living room, peeking through the entrance way to check on everyone. There were enough blankets for an army, and he could see limbs and faces poking out of all of them. Max and Lucas were sprawled on the couch, Robin was in the very corner of the couch, with Erica's head resting on her legs, Nancy and Eddie were both in armchairs, the former with her legs stretched out and the latter curled up as tight as could be.

Steve couldn't help but think of his mom absolutely losing it about Eddie Munson, a wanted, though innocent, murderer and a, less innocent, drug dealer, sitting on one of her expensive chairs. He remembered her banning him from going anywhere near them when he'd spilled orange juice on the floor— when he was five, mind you— even though he was nowhere near anything expensive at the time.

Maybe he should invite Eddie over more once this was all over. He was, reluctantly, growing on him a bit, and wouldn't mind his company too much.

Steve's fond smile faded as he noticed someone was still missing. He looked over the couch in hopes of having just missed him, but there was still no sign of Dustin. He frowned deeply as he moved his search to the kitchen.

He eyed the old grandfather clock that his dad was a little obsessed with— it apparently was from Steve's great grandfather and important to the family— as he passed it. He couldn't help but shiver as he thought of all of Vecna's victims. He felt the sudden urge to get rid of the antique, or at least move it so no one would need to see it.

He tried to ignore its ticking as he passed into the kitchen.

Once again, Dustin was nowhere to be seen. Steve was getting a little worried.

His search for the kid was becoming more frantic with each room he checked. The guest room, the dining room, several bathrooms, he even poked his head out the back to see if Dustin was just being an idiot and going for a late night swim.

Steve found himself back in the kitchen, his heart racing and breath stuttering. He ran a hand through his hair again as he used to the other to hold tightly onto the edge of a counter. He coughed on a wrong breath.

He shakily grabbed for a glass, filling it up quickly with water and nearly chugging it. He cleared his throat several times before he felt confident enough to take a breath without choking.

His sides ached and he wanted to just keel over and let this be someone else's problem. Despite this, he limped back over to the living room, his foot hurting even worse that when he first woke up and the pain grew with each step.

He paused at the grandfather clock again, it was chiming loudly now at the new hour. he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to block out the noise, and continued forward.

He made it to the living room, a loud plea on the tip of his tongue before his heart dropped.

What had been a group of peacefully sleeping kids and teenagers was now a bloodbath.

Everyone was laying exactly in the same places as before, but now their limbs were twisted at odd angles, all going the wrong way. He could see bone pressing against skin, threatening to tear. said skin was now purple and blue with disgusting bruises. Their eyes were all completely gouged out, with blood running down their cheeks.

Steve curled in on himself fighting the bile rising in his throat. Tears were pricking at his eyes and they fell with the weight of bullets when he blinked. He fell to his knees in front of the massacre.

He covered his eyes as he weeped, as he sobbed. He sucked in a tight breath as he tried to quiet himself.

How did this happen? How could this have happened? He was in the house the whole time, he was here the whole time. The lights hadn't even flickered.

There was a hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply with wide, hopeful, and bloodshot eyes.

"Dust-"

Steve clamped his mouth shut, staring up at the thing standing above him. It looked almost human. but wrong in every possible way. It looked like it was made of purely muscle, skin being discarded purely to strike people with the fear of God. Or maybe it was the vines of the Upside Down forming some new horror.

The thing lifted a hand, one with fingers too long and claws that rivaled a demogorgon's.

Pain flared throughout Steve's entire being.

The clock chimed in time with Steve's screaming.

He could only hope it hadn't been this painful for the others.

---

Dustin was kicked off the bed. He hit the floor with the thud and was woken up suddenly and rather rudely. He put a hand to his now throbbing shoulder and rubbed it carefully.

He was about to say something, maybe yell at Steve for kicking him, maybe he would've shaken him awake too and tried throwing him off the bed.

Instead, the words that hadn't even left his mouth were overpowered by a scream. Dustin's eyes widened as he looked up to Steve, who was thrashing wildly and going between yells and whimpers. He sucked in a breath, releasing it quickly, then taking in another and another until he was near hyperventilating.

He watched as Steve twisted and turned. The covers were thrown onto the floor, much like Dustin himself had been. Steve's elbow hit the wall with a thunk and Dustin thought there might have been a dent in the wallpaper.

Steve screamed again, just as loud and terrifying, and Dustin jumped into action. He hovered over Steve for a second before he grabbed onto his shoulders and started shaking him violently. Dustin yelling in time with Steve's screaming, begging him to wake up.

Dustin even went so far as to slap Steve in the face. His hand stung afterwards. it only served to make tears prick at Dustin's eyes at its futility.

Dustin was victim to a sharp elbow jab after that. He took several steps back as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. He gasped, partly from the hit and partly from his ever growing panic.

"Help!" He shrieked, finally deciding he couldn't handle this. His calls for help devolved into sobs. He fell onto his knees as they became too wobbly to support his weight. "Help-" He hiccuped on a sob, trying to suck in a harsh gasp of a breath.

The door slammed open behind him and people flooded the room. Orders were shouted over the chaos that was only growing and the adults of the group surrounded Steve. Max grabbed Dustin's shoulders and pulled him away, almost dragging him out of the room.

He hiccuped and sobbed against her, tightly gripping onto her clothes as if she would push him away.

Dustin flinched with every shout and scream that came from Steve's room. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, causing more heavy tears to fall and stain Max's clothes, when he heard Nancy start screaming about what Steve's favorite song was.

Dustin struggled to breathe when someone shouted to hold him down. He pushed himself further against Max when someone ran past him. He opened his eyes for a split second to see the blurry image of someone running into Steve's room with the red blur of a first aid kit.

He wished Max would take him further away. He would probably scream and fight if she tried to anyway.

They both sunk to the ground, leaning heavily against the wall. Dustin thought he could feel Max's shoulders jump every few breaths; they imitated his own stuttered movements.

Then music started to come from Steve's room, loud enough to drown out Steve's continuous screaming.

Another set of arms surrounded him and Max, then someone started to rub his back like a mother would to a sick child. It did little to soothe him.

"Is he-" he couldn't form a full sentence. He swallowed the thick feeling in his throat and sniffled as snot leaked from his nose to join the tears streaming down his face.

Everything seemed to have gotten so much calmer, the crisis ending as suddenly as it had started.

His whole body shaking, Dustin forced himself to let go of Max. Erica, who had been the other person to join in the hug, let her arms fall away from them as Dustin sat up. He made eye contact with both of them— Max looked at the floor, but Dustin saw the red irritation on her face that came with tears. Erica stared at Dustin with an expression of dread that she hadn't even worn when running from armed Russians. Lucas was barely a foot away, with a hand on Erica's shoulder, holding her tightly.

Dustin stood with feet that didn't feel like his own. He stumbled on shaky legs back into Steve's room. None of the safety or comfort he felt just a few hours before was still present. There was a darkness to the room that came from more than just the late hour.

Eddie was standing near the door, still as a statue. He looked terrified. Dustin thought he might have been shaking.

Robin was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed frame with her knees to her chest. She had her hands over her mouth and was shaking violently with sobs. There was a boombox sitting in front of her, loudly playing ABBA's Dancing Queen. He'd never known that was Steve's favorite song.

Nancy was sitting over Steve, trying to wrap bandages— so many bandages, over Steve's entire upper body as quickly as she could. She even glanced up at Dustin and turned away just as quickly, like she was trying to hide something from him.

Steve was still and silent. Dustin crept up to the bed, standing right next to where Robin sat, rocking herself back and forth. He loomed over Steve with wide, unblinking eyes.

He reached his shaking hand forward, placing it onto Steve's chest where Nancy had yet to wrap it.

"Dustin…" Nancy started, but whatever she wanted to say died hopelessly.

Dustin let his fingers glide against the small protruding lines underneath Steve's skin, the veins that lurked like parasites. He let his hand travel from Steve's chest all the way to his collarbone.

"It wasn't this bad even a few hours ago," he choked.

Robin let out a loud, pained sob and stuffed her face against her knees.

"He was fine," Dustin muttered, "he had been perfectly fine."

---

Robin dragged Nancy out of Steve's room, holding onto the other woman's wrist tight enough to bruise. She was digging her fingernails into her own palm on her free hand.

She shouldered past Eddie, who hadn't moved in the past twenty minutes once he was no longer given any direction. She wondered if he'd even blinked.

She fought not to look down at Max, Lucas, and Erica where they still sat against the room. They were all holding each other tightly.

She didn't even want to think about Dustin, hugging Steve like he would disappear if he let go for even a moment.

Robin left Steve behind, and Dustin, Eddie, and the huddled group of children in the hall as she pulled Nancy into the bathroom. It was the same one where Steve had passed out, there were a few tiny, rusty speckles of blood on the white tiles.

Robin locked the door and whirled on Nancy.

"We can't wait," she declared, a deep, murderous rage boiling up inside her.

Nancy blinked at her.

"We have to kill Vecna." She'd never felt such resolve than in this moment.

Nancy blinked again. She looked to the wall, then in the mirror. Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath, then fell suddenly as she released it through her nose. She finally, finally, looked into Robin's eyes.

"Tomorrow," she nodded, "Vecna dies."

everyone's pining in between the whump even some of the children (even though I didn't really add much Lumax lol)

Oh Nancy you poor thing thinking Robin and Steve are actually dating you have no idea how much that girl wants you… speaking of which don't ask me what's going on with Nancy and Jonathon's relationship at the moment that's why it's pre-slash lol

Also Eddie put his hands over his face and forgot the kids existed because he was freaking out too much at not only seeing Steve shirtless but also smiling at him with tired (bedroom?) eyes.

also also pretend the girls waited a bit longer before following Eddie downstairs… and Eddie was gone for so long despite the somewhat short interaction because he was lurking outside the door for a while rethinking his entire life and what the hell he got himself into

I will say Steve isn't really cursed or possessed in this, the bats just have venom that Vecna can make spread faster because plot reasons :D

anyways hope you all enjoyed and thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. love ya'll!!! <3

also here's my playlist while I write if anyone's interested… it's not specific to this fic or anything it's just music I enjoy that don't totally distract me while I'm writing (it's also where most of the songs that I get my fic names from are) Enjoy the music :D

[sadiewritingco]

Not a Ghost or a Roach - Chapter 1

Summary - The Upside Down is no easy place to survive in, and even more difficult to do so after nearly being eaten alive and strangled by demonic bats. Steve thought that getting him and everyone out of the the infernal dimension would lead to things getting easier… they didn't, especially not for Steve.

Or, what if the demo-bats had poison and Steve has to deal with it

 Relationship and Tags -  Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Poisoning, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Whump, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Steve Harrington-centric, implied steve harrington/eddie munson - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 04, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Friendship, Dustin Henderson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Have a Sibling Relationship, Protective Dustin Henderson, Protective Robin Buckley

Chapter - 1/3       Chapter Word Count  - 7,010/? 

Next  

AO3 

guess who got super obsessed with Stranger Things and of course Steve… I really tried to fight it but he's just too pathetic and caring (took me until watching s4 to really get obsessed so you know i was sort of successful)

also i'm not really writing this as steddie but they've had enough moments for it to be at least tagged (genuinely didn't even try to write it like that they're just too gay)

I also started using a new writing program that doesn't have the greatest spell-check so super sorry if there's a bajillion typos I tried my best (program is super amazing its Ellipsus and you should really try it they're 100% against AI and it's a program just for writers!!)

Title is after Under the Earth by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (I've broken the Metric curse guys!)

Please enjoy <3

Steve let out an undignified scream as he was pulled from the water and through the elastic, fleshy gate. He was falling through the air for a moment before gravity righted itself, and he fell onto his back. He gasped as he was given little more than a second before he was being dragged forward again. 

He screamed again as he was pulled deeper into the Upside Down. His back was being mauled by the ground and sharp thorns along all of the vines. He kicked helplessly at the vine strangling his ankle. 

Then he was let go. His body moved forward for another second before stopping and he was able to stumble to a stand, his ankle throbbing from the bleeding cuts encircling it. His breaths were short and panicked as he turned around to see the dark, dead environment of the Upside Down. 

He blinked at the thousands of vines covering the ground, just waiting for them to come to life and attack him. 

He had heard so many stories about the Upside Down from Will, from when he would wake up screaming in the night when all of the kids were at Steve’s home. He could guess enough about the place from the various monsters they’d faced since the boy’s disappearance, but it couldn’t compare to seeing it in person. 

 To think that Will had to spend a near week here, where even the air was toxic, made Steve’s stomach churn. 

A loud shrieking filled the air behind him. He turned abruptly to see three creatures in the air. He stumbled backwards before breaking into a run. There was an oar on the ground, covered in vines. 

He fell forward and grabbed at it, pulling against the vines until they snapped. They receded as if burned, and he thought that maybe he heard them hiss. 

Then the shrieking became much louder, and Steve turned to swat at the creatures with the oar. It was heavy and his arms were already tired from the swim; it took no time at all for the flying beasts to send his only weapon flying out of his hands. 

They swarmed around him, hissing and shrieking and making his brain scream for quiet. He would worry about a migraine if he wasn’t too busy worried about living long enough to deal with it later. 

One bat flew around him in the middle of a frantic waving of his arm. Something slimy and stinging wrapped around his throat and he was pulled back sharply. His back hit the ground hard and his breath left him. 

He grabbed at the thing squeezing his throat, pulling at it desperately. His eyes watered as it burned his skin; it rubbed against his neck like a noose. He gagged as it pulled more, dragging him against the ground. How something so small could be so strong Steve would never know. 

He screamed loudly as a sharp pain was felt in his side. He looked down to see another of the creatures biting him. He gagged on more than the lack of air as he watched it tear into his flesh. 

Steve flung his arm down to push it away, still pulling at the vine wrapped around his throat too. It only hopped back for a moment before returning. The second one joined it a moment later. 

He yelled hoarsely as he writhed and thrashed. He was being strangled, dragged, and eaten at the same time. He was going to die to some fucked up, fleshy birds. 

He closed his eyes tightly, tugged at the vine one more time before he felt his arms failing him. 

Then, there was another yell that joined his own. For a moment all he could think was that one of the others got dragged down here with him. 

His eyes opened abruptly as something in his side tore, letting out another scream with new vigor. His oxygen-poor mind was just barely able to process Nancy standing over him with the discarded oar. Oh, maybe she wasn’t in danger. 

Then there was Robin, stomping on the vine killing him as he still pulled valiantly. 

And then Eddie was in front of him, swinging another oar wildly at the bats flying around him, trying to stave them away.

The vine around his neck loosened, and he was finally able to pull it off of him. He sunk his teeth into the vine, feeling the its flesh pop as tangy, metallic blood filled his mouth.

It was then that he realized it was the third creature the whole time, not a vine, and he started throwing it onto the ground heavily. It shrieked again with each thud, and Steve yelled with each twist of his body. 

Finally, he stepped on one of its wings and pulled tightly. The creature gave one final shriek before it was ripped in half. He dropped the limp piece of the creature onto the ground. 

Steve took in several desperate breaths, spitting out blood at the same time. The coppery taste made him scrunch up his nose. 

 He caught Eddie staring at him and gave the other man as good a smile as he could give after another near death. 

Steve pointed to the limp bat that Eddie had apparently run through with the broken oar, like a stake through a vampire's heart. He huffed a weak laugh and gave a quick nod. 

“Badass, dude,” he said hoarsely 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie muttered, still staring. 

“Holy shit, Steve!” Robin exclaimed, rushing to him and grabbing Steve’s attention. She waved her hands around his body, checking for injuries but not wanting to hurt him any more. “Holy shit.” She repeated breathlessly, staring at his torn open sides and belly. 

Steve grimaced and hugged himself, putting pressure while also covering the wounds from the rest of the group’s stares. 

“We should-” He coughed at how his throat burned. “we should go,” He managed after clearing his throat. 

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Nancy added in agreement. Steve smiled at her weakly as she gave him a once over.

"Do you think those things have rabies?" Robin said abruptly. "Because I have like a major fear of getting rabies and those things are definitely something that would have rabies."

“Come on.” Nancy rolled her eyes, though they looked almost fond. She waved her hand towards where the gate must have been. Steve figured he should’ve made a break for that from the beginning. It would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble. 

Despite the hope swelling in Steve’s chest, lightening the way his entire being burned, they were met with yet another obstacle at the gate. More creatures were guarding it, and Steve hugged himself tighter as it seemed like they almost eyed him. 

“We can take them,” He said, despite his fears. 

Then more shrieking was heard, and an entire hoard of the demons came out from over the tree line. They blotted out what little light shone from the sky, only their shadows being illuminated by the occasionally flash of blood-red lightning.

“Maybe not,” he muttered as the others turned to run. He followed them quickly, grateful the bats at the gate didn’t immediately give chase. 

He fought against every wince and yelp as he ran. Pain festered under his skin. 

---

The group was huddled under Skull Rock. Bats were screeching overhead, circling and occasionally swooping down; their shadows covered the ground. Each shriek drilled into his head, the migraine he felt coming hours ago having come on full force.  

Steve pushed himself further against the rock, feeling the scratches along his back get scraped further from the action. He pressed his lips firmly together as he peeked up towards the sky, seeing the swirling shadows of the bats against the bright red lightning in the sky. 

Robin pressed against his arm, and he leaned closer to her similarly. She glanced at him and he tried his best at a smile, though he doubted it was very comforting with his bloodstained teeth. 

His head pulsed as another loud shriek pierced the air. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his brow. He hoped the pressure would ease his growing nausea, as he always did. As always, it didn’t. 

He tried to focus on the other various discomforts to take away from the pain coursing through his entire being. He was cold, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore; yet at the same time a thick layer of sweat, blood, and grime covered him head-to-toe. It felt like playing outside for a long time in the winter, when he didn’t quite feel warm but still had all the discomforts of exercise in the sun. 

He took in a shaky breath, then let it out through his nose. He stifled a cough, putting a hand over his mouth to quiet the noise. The air was another thing too. It was like trying to breathe through a cloth covered in spices. There was a constant tickle in his throat as well as the soreness from nearly being strangled to death; his voice was still a little hoarse.

There was another loud shriek just above them. All four of them seemed to flinch from the sudden sound. Steve’s hand found Robin’s. They both held on to each other tightly. 

Then loud flapping, just above them, started up. Steve looked up, as if he could see through the rock. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for the sound to either leave or overwhelm them.

Finally, the noises surrounding them got quieter, the shrieking further away and the smacking of wings against the air receding. Steve squeezed Robin’s hand one more time before letting her go. 

The whole group seemed to sag with relief at the same time. Steve’s shoulders slumped, he hadn’t realized they were so tense, and with the relaxation of his body he felt a new wave of pain shudder through him. 

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut once again as the others stood up and peeked out of their meager hiding place. 

“That was too close,” Nancy said quietly, as if she spoke too loudly the bats would swarm around them again. Who knew, maybe they would. Steve wouldn't be surprised if they had some sort of super-hearing.

Steve placed his hand against the rock behind him, pushing himself up to stand. He carefully avoided the vines snaking across the cold surface like exposed veins. Usually they were easy to avoid, but sometimes they would slither and move and Steve worried someone wouldn't be paying attention.

He blinked rapidly as spots danced across his vision. He stood up too fast and a frustrating bout of dizziness made him collapse against the side of another rock. He let out a sharp gasp before clamping his mouth shut. 

Then Nancy was in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders and guiding him back down to sit. He wrapped his arms around his mangled midsection once again, hugging the wound. 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Nancy said worriedly as she pushed his arms out of the way. He frowned as he looked down at his oozing wounds. Bile rose up in his throat. He looked up at the cold, red sky instead.

Nancy started to tear at her shirt as Robin started her usual ramblings— something about rabies again. Steve flinched as Nancy’s sweater tore. He’d have to buy her a new one after this was over. 

“-so like let us know if you feel angry or- or start seeing things- or like want to punch me?” Robin finished, her ramblings cutting through the pulsating pain in his head. 

“Robin,” he grit out as Nancy started tying the fabric around his wounds. He peeked one eye open and smiled, “I kinda wanna punch you,” he said breathily. 

“Oh- well at least you’re humor’s intact.” Robin smiled. She was watching as Nancy wrapped the make-shift bandage around Steve, watching as blood started to stain the white and blue fabric. 

Nancy pulled tightly as she tied a knot. Steve let out a gasp and bit his lower lip to stifle it. Nancy looked up at him, fear and worry in her eyes that reminded him of all the other times they’d been in some kind of peril.  

“It’s not too tight?” She asked, her lips pressed in a firm line. Steve looked to the side, cursing himself silently for staring. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he answered, forcing his voice to become steadier. Nancy smiled and squeezed his shoulder. She stood up, holding out a hand for Steve. He took it and stumbled upwards. When she let go, he placed a hand on the rock to hold himself up. 

He took in several steadying breaths. He tried to be quiet, even though he knew it wouldn’t steady him much unless he actually let himself breathe. But he also wasn't too keen on breathing in the spores floating through the air.

He pretended he didn’t notice Robin eyeing him with a frown as he listened to Nancy warn Eddie about the hive-mind and vines. Steve glanced at the vines covering the rock his hand was on. He let go, just to be safe. He didn’t exactly trust himself to stay upright at the moment. 

Steve’s arms surrounded his belly again, putting pressure while hiding the way the bandages were quickly stained red. 

“I would kill for some kind of weapon,” Eddie breathed, looking up to the sky dramatically. The group’s conversation had moved on to finding some kind of defense. 

“There’s no way we’ll make it to the police station without getting killed,” Steve pointed out, always the realist of the group. He thought of all the times Henderson had gotten some idea to fight the Upside Down or evil Russians, and how Steve had always been the one to tell him they weren’t superheroes and would probably die. Of course, Henderson hadn't exactly been proven wrong yet.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Nancy started, hope lacing her tone. “I keep guns in my room.” 

“Nancy Wheeler... has guns in her room?” Eddie asked in disbelief. Steve smiled at Nancy’s affirmation. It was quickly decided that they would go to Nancy’s house. 

Before they were about to leave, the earth started to shake violently. Steve and Robin both grabbed onto each other tightly, but neither could stay upright. They all fell to the ground as the tremors get more intense with each second. 

Steve held back a yell as a rock on the ground pressed into his side painfully. He took in a shaking inhale as the tremors subsided. His eyes were shut tightly, and he had curled in on himself. 

Robin’s hands were on his shoulders, trying to get him upright. Her worried remarks were lost on Steve’s ringing ears. 

“I’m okay- I'm okay,” he said anyway. He blindly put his hand over Robin’s and squeezed tightly. He blinked his eyes open and slowly his vision returned to him. The spike of pain that shot both through his skull and side was fading. 

He smiled up at Robin with his blood-stained teeth. She did not smile back. 

---

The walk to Nancy’s house felt longer than it should’ve been. Steve wondered if the Upside Down somehow changed the distance between places. His feet were dragging, and his knees were weak long before they even left the woods. His injured ankle twinged with each step.

Sweat was beading down his neck, but chills still racked his body. He found himself shivering more often than not. The others didn’t seem as bothered by it; he chalked it up to his longer time underwater as well as his lack of a shirt. 

Eddie had even noticed and thrown his jacket at Steve. He barely caught it, and the two had a moment of utter fear and panic as it nearly fell onto a vine. Neither said a word after that, there wasn't even any awkward laughter, and Steve put on the jacket quickly. His injuries stretched as he pulled his arms through the sleeves. 

The girls had gotten ahead, leading the way through the dark woods. Sometimes there would be a flash of red in the sky, illuminating the tops of the trees. A loud clap of thunder would follow, the sound drilling into Steve’s skull. 

Eddie was walking beside him now, giving him the occasional glance that Steve pretended he didn’t see. They hadn’t said much aside from Eddie comparing Steve to Ozzy Osborne and Black Sabbath, like he knew anything about that at all. 

“You know,” Eddie started, “They both went in after you pretty quick.” He huffed out a laugh. Steve looked to where Nancy and Robin were talking ahead of them. 

As his side twinged with pain from a step that was too heavy on his bad ankle, Steve couldn’t help but think they weren't quick enough.  

“I wasn’t going to go in at all,” Eddie admitted. “Even when Nancy jumped in, I was just gonna stay in the boat and twiddle my thumbs.” He laughed dejectedly. He was looking at the ground again, carefully stepping over a few vines as well as a normal tree root. “But then Robin jumped, and I thought, shit, I don’t wanna be alone. So I followed.” He shrugged. 

Steve let a silence grow for a moment. He took in a breath that almost made him cough, inhaling a particle of the strange dust floating through the air. 

“You didn’t have to,” he said finally. He meant it, too. 

Steve knew he could be selfish sometimes; in the way he’d mutter under his breath, still loud enough for anyone to hear, about something that he didn’t like. Really, all throughout his high school he was a selfish bastard. Still, he wouldn’t ever wish anyone to be in this place, let alone someone who’d already been going through so much else, like Eddie. 

“I think she still loves you,” Eddie said instead of responding  to Steve. “Someone that didn’t love you wouldn’t jump in like that.” 

Steve stared at Nancy’s back as she started climbing over the roots of a tree. She disappeared behind it and Robin started to climb after her. His heart sped up as he thought of not being able to see either of them anymore. 

Eddie grabbed his shoulders. He stared into Steve’s eyes intensely. 

“I think you need to get her back.” 

Steve didn’t say anything. He glanced to where Nancy had been just a moment before. 

He knew he’d never really gotten over her. She seemed so perfect, all the time, even when she was struggling through all the shit they’d been through. Aside from that, she was dorky and sweet. How could anyone get over a girl like that? 

Steve sighed. The word bullshit rang through his head, overpowering the heat of his migraine for just a moment. He shook his head with a sad smile when he looked back at Eddie. 

“I think she’d do it for anyone,” Steve said, and he really did think she’d risk her life like that for anyone, at least anyone she knew. Maybe not as quickly, maybe with a bit more debate and doubt, but she’d still do it. 

“Steve...” 

“I care about her,” he interrupted, “but I don’t think it’s like that anymore.” He didn’t know how he felt about Nancy anymore; he wasn’t over her, and found himself thinking about her a bit too often. But he also really didn’t want to be with her again, he just knew that it wouldn’t work well. It was a stretch to even get with her after the Upside Down first appeared; looking back on it, Steve was amazed their relationship even lasted as long as it did.

He looked to his feet. A heat crept up his neck as he had said it. He felt raw, talking about this with Eddie Munson of all people. He hadn’t even talked about these complicated feelings with Robin, and yet, here he was, bleeding his heart out to Eddie. 

When Steve looked up again, Eddie almost looked sad. It was like he was really rooting for Steve to get the girl and have his happy ending. It almost made Steve scoff. 

Eddie smiled softly and patted his shoulder before letting go. 

Steve really wished he hadn’t, because as soon as the other man’s arms were back at his side and comfortable, the earth started to quake. 

Steve took another fall. 

---

For the last stretch of their journey, Steve had an arm wrapped around either Eddie or Robin. Nancy continued to lead the way, only a few steps ahead compared to the several paces before the second earth quake. 

Every breath he took was a pathetic wheeze that ended with him holding it in to not sound so much like a dying animal. It did little to stop Robin’s constant worried gaze. 

Steve, realistically, could walk on his own. He’d been able to make steady journeys with concussions and bruises everywhere. He’d been tortured and drugged before and still managed to stumble around the secret Russian base. 

But when Steve fell onto the ground once again, his wounds pulling and bleeding even more, his face landed right beside a slithering vine. They all had thought that it was over then, that bats would be swarming them in seconds. They had all held their breath for minutes before Steve was finally helped off the ground. 

It was unanimously decided that all of them would always be holding onto another. That quickly turned into someone would always be holding onto Steve. 

While it occasionally made a blush stain his cheeks, he couldn’t complain about it. Steve really could walk on his own, but he would not let his fracturing pride put the others in danger. 

He was nevertheless grateful when they made it to Nancy’s house. Robin had let him go once they crossed the threshold into the home. 

Looking around, it was just as dreary as the rest of this world. Steve limped over to the sofa in the living room and plopped down on it. He stretched his legs forward, feeling something pop in his injured ankle. He hoped that that might ease the pain for at least a moment, said moment was very fleating, though.

Robin sat down next to him, she stretched out similarly with a huff. 

“I don’t ever wanna walk again,” she gasped, leaning her head back against the cushion and closing her eyes. Steve grumbled his agreement. 

“Better than an underground Russian tunnel,” He mumbled as he too closed his eyes. He adjusted for a moment, suppressing a gasp as the cuts on his back dragged across Eddie’s jacket. He felt the urge to hug his stomach again; he avoided the action in favor of rolling his shoulders and spreading his arms out on the back of the sofa. 

There was another flash of red light outside. It bled through Steve’s closed eyes, making him sit up straighter and look out the window. A clap of thunder followed. Steve shivered. 

Nancy and Eddie started up the stares. Robin got up and followed not a second later. Steve stayed where he sat. He continued looking out the window, waiting for another bright red light to illuminate the room. 

After several moments of silence, Steve gave in and hugged himself. His wounds protested loudly as his arms rubbed against the bandages. The pulsing in his skull seemed to get more intense as he squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching up. 

There was a murmur in the room, faint and unintelligible. For a moment he thought it was just the others upstairs, he could hear their footsteps loud enough. None of them were very good at being quiet, Steve included. It was a miracle they had survived this long already— then again, Steve was pretty sure he had heard something about Will singing while he was stuck here, so maybe not that much of a divine intervention.

Then, the murmuring got a bit clearer. Steve recognized the voice, but not from any of the others upstairs. 

He sat up quickly, ignoring the twinge of pain that shuddered through him. He grabbed his flashlight and swung it around, lighting up parts of the room at a time. 

“Dustin?” He said, his gaze traveling around the room, but not finding what he hoped for. He stood up, pressing one hand to his stomach as the wound pulled. 

“Henderson!” He yelled. His own voice was grating against his skull, too loud for both this quiet world and his migraine. “Hello?!” He swung turned in a circle, repeating the call several times. 

“Steve!” Nancy yelled behind him. 

“Hello!” He swung around, the flashlight shining in Nancy’s eyes before he quickly moved it towards the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked. 

“It’s Henderson! That little shit is here- he's in the walls or something!” He threw his hands in the air at the group’s disbelief. Then he turned around and kept calling for the boy. Soon enough, the others followed. 

In the minutes that followed, they discovered how to use the lights to communicate, and all traveled up to Nancy’s room to follow whatever plan Dustin had made. 

More of the glowing dust manifested after a moment of waiting. Nancy ran her finger through it in the shape of different letters to try and communicate. 

After an arduous attempt of talking through Holly’s toy, Dustin’s snark only making it more insufferable, they had a solid plan on getting home. Henderson was an annoying little shit, but he was a bit of a genius too; Steve would never let the kid's ego get that big, though.

Steve stumbled down the stairs with the rest of the group, falling behind slightly. He tightly gripped the railing as he put one foot in front of the other, his uninjured one first. 

He was breathing heavily by the time he made it to the garage. His spirits sank as he looked over the bikes strewn about the place. Nancy and Robin were already rolling their own out onto the drive-way, and Steve moved to follow dejectedly. 

“Hey, big guy.” Eddie put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you ride with me,” he offered with a smile. Steve looked from his own bike to Eddie’s. 

He knew it was a bad idea to ride on his own. He was hurting enough already, and the fog permeating his thoughts hadn’t lifted. He would slow them down if he went on his own. 

Steve nodded, not meeting Eddie’s gaze. He climbed on the back of the bike, at first trying not to touch Eddie. He gave up when he could barely sit down, and he pressed his bare chest against Eddie’s clothed back. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Eddie’s midsection. 

The man stiffened. Steve pressed his lips together firmly. 

“Is this okay?” He asked after a moment of neither of them talking or moving. Eddie nodded in front of him, a quick and stilted movement. 

“Yeah- yeah this is fine,” Eddie answered at last. Steve nodded, though the other man couldn’t see it, and held on just a bit tighter. Eddie started pedaling, and they were off. 

The stale air rushed through Steve’s hair and smacked across his face, making it all that more difficult to just breathe. A shiver ran up his spine and squeezed Eddie a little tighter to stop himself from trembling. 

Eventually, Steve started to allow himself a moment to rest. He sagged against Eddie’s back, his tense muscles relaxing. He shut his eyes tightly as a wave of nausea shuddered through him. Everything ached and stung. Even so, he felt like he could actually rest for a moment. 

He didn’t know what it was, maybe he heard it, or caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, but Steve turned around and looked down the street they had traveled on. Looking up, there was a bat, sitting on a telephone pole with its long tail wrapped around the wood. 

It shrieked, piercing through Steve’s head and making him wince. He turned back around, waiting to see the others’ reactions. 

They hadn’t heard it. It didn’t follow. 

Steve shivered. 

---

Looking up through the portal to see the kids… also looking up gave Steve the worst sense of vertigo he’d ever felt. It was almost as bad as when he was drugged at Starcourt. 

It felt even weirder when they threw a sheet through the portal and it hung perfectly in the air in the Upside Down. Giving it a tug, it didn’t budge at all. 

Steve hadn’t really believed that the Upside Down was actually upside down. He just assumed it was a fun way to describe a literal hell beneath Hawkins. Safe to say, he would stop assuming things about anything regarding monsters and dimensions. 

Robin climbed up first, she twisted in the air as gravity changed and fell onto the mattress. She smiled up (down?) at them, giving a remark on it being fun. Maybe they could make an amusement park in the Upside Down, Steve thought bitterly.

Then went Eddie, who agreed with Robin after hopping back to his feet. 

Steve turned to help Nancy up, having decided that he would be the last through. His heart stopped when he saw her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. 

A flurry of frantic chaos followed. The group in the Right-side Up  searching for music, screaming at each other to hurry. Steve stayed with Nancy, shaking her shoulders roughly and begging her to wake up. 

It felt like an eternity before Nancy collapsed onto the floor. He had been waiting for the moment that she would lift off the ground, when gravity would ignore her existence; instead it did the exact opposite. 

There was a long moment where nothing felt real after that. Steve and Nancy both climbed up and fell into the mattress. He just barely registered that instead of the constant chill permeating his entire being, there was now an overwhelming heart in the spring air. They went to Max’s home and spread around the room. Then Nancy told them what she saw. 

Steve leaned heavily against the wall as he listened. He shuddered as Nancy described how the earth opened up underneath Hawkins, tearing open with strands of sinew as portals spanned across the quaint town. 

Steve closed his eyes as his migraine reared its head. It was better— not hearing the shrieks of demonic bats and being in that freezing cold that only seemed possible in a place like the Upside Down had soothed it a bit. 

But there were still countless other injuries. His neck still burned, and he suppressed a shudder every time he breathed, the movement causing his injuries to rub against the bandages. 

“Why don’t we take a moment to breathe for a bit?” Robin suggested. She was sitting next to Nancy on Max’s couch, rubbing the latter’s shoulder soothingly. “Today was a lot,” she added, looking over the group. 

“We can’t really stay here for long,” Max said, “my mom’s off work in a bit.” 

That silenced the group. They all looked around  to each other, waiting for someone to give a solution. 

Steve took in a breath. It’d be idiotic to even stay in the trailer park; the cops could always come back and the portal was far too close for comfort. 

“We can go to my place,” he offered, standing up a little straighter. “My parents are away.” As always, he thought bitterly. It wasn’t worth dwelling on now. 

The group had a quick moment of wondering how in the world they’d cart the man currently wanted for murder around without being caught. It was then decided they would steal a trailer beside Eddie’s home. Because what’s one more crime?

The drive was spent with Steve hitting the curb on nearly every turn, along with a couple of mailboxes and trash cans. He was usually a decent enough driver, if he was ever this rough with his beemer it could be assumed that he was replaced by aliens. He was mostly running on the last drops of adrenaline and decided that was a good enough excuse.

 They parked the trailer a few blocks away from Steve's neighborhood. It was a straight shot through the woods to get to his house. it was decent enough cover for Eddie to not be spotted, along with the kids since their parents had apparently rallied a search party.

Steve couldn't complain, he had no right to. But another trek through the woods felt like agony. His foot somehow started to feel worse. He had moved long past the point of being able to hide how each step was a struggle and how every breath had a hitch in it.

The point when he finally saw his backyard, he nearly collapsed with relief. Seeing the familiar pool, despite the air of despair that had been present since Barb, made his entire being feel just a bit lighter.

The group filed into the backdoor as quietly as a group of kids and panicked barely adults could. Steve had half the mind to lock the door behind him before he leaned his back against it and allowed himself to sink to the ground.

He pulled his knees up and pressed his forehead against them, blocking out as much light as he could. He still flinched when it seemed the entire force of the sun entered his home as people started turning on the lights.

"You okay, Steve?" Dustin asked, concern evident.

Steve raised his head to see Dustin looming over him, thankfully blocking out some of the light. He smiled, a lopsided and pained thing.

"Yeah, today's just been a lot," He sighed. His head thudded against the door as he looked upwards.

He wasn't very surprised when Dustin sat next to him, his arm pressed against Steve's. He started fidgeting nearly immediately, bringing a much more genuine smile to Steve's face.

Steve lifted his arm and wrapped it around Dustin's shoulders. He pulled the kid closer against him. Dustin huffed, probably rolled his eyes too, but he didn't pull away.

"We'll get through this, 'kay?" Steve said. No one else was in the foyer, the two were alone. Steve could hear their voices in the living room, all serious and determined. He could just imagine Nancy coming up with a plan that seemed impossible but they would all pull off anyway.

"Yeah, I know." Dustin pushed against Steve even more as he answered. It was like he was trying to bury under Steve's skin.

Steve bit his bottom lip to avoid making any noise. Dustin was pushing against Steve's injuries, but he really couldn't bring himself to make the kid move. They needed a moment where everything seemed okay, and Steve wouldn't be the one to make it end.

So, Steve held his breath and urged himself to relax. He closed his eyes as he let out a world-weary sigh, his whole body deflating with the action. Maybe he could just fall asleep like this, with Dustin safely in his arms.

This house wasn't any safer than anywhere else in Hawkins, but Steve allowed himself to believe it was for the moment. It had been his sanctuary since he was just a kid, no matter how lonely it felt at times. It became the kids' sanctuary too, eventually. He wouldn't let some demonic wizard ruin that for him or the kids.

"Hey, Stevie?" Robin said, poking her head around the opening to the living room. Steve opened his eyes with effort, it felt like molasses was keeping them glued shut. He hummed as he looked up at Robin.

"Nance said we should change your bandages," She said, coming into the room. Dustin sat up.

"You're hurt?"

"It's nothing too bad," Steve said, the reassurance quick on his tongue. He ignored Robin's huff and how she put her hands on her hips. He patted Dustin's head, smiling at the kid smacked his hand away.

Robin leaned down and grabbed Steve's arm. She pulled him to stand, and Steve pretended he didn't make a noise like a kicked puppy. He followed Robin upstairs with Dustin quick on his heels.

Going into his bathroom, Max was already there with the contents of Steve's first aid kit assorted on the floor. Her walkman was still playing that Running Up that Hill, and it gave the room a nicer atmosphere. Max pushed down the toilet lid and patted it for Steve to sit, he obliged. He shucked off Eddie's jacket, letting it fall to the side.

Max winced at the sight of the dirty and bloody bandages. Steve tried not to think of Dustin's quiet little gasp. the kid hadn't crossed the threshold into the bathroom. Steve could just see him standing there out of the corner of his eye.

Max started to peel off the bandages. They stuck to the wound, and Steve had to close his eyes after seeing the grime and blood coating the once pristine fabric. He would really have to get Nancy a new shirt.

He leaned his head back again, hitting the back of the toilet with a quiet thud. the sterile light from the ceiling shone through his closed eyes, making his head throb just a bit more. He suppressed a hiss of pain as Max ripped the bandages off all the way.

He really wished Dustin would leave when he heard the poor kid let out a much louder gasp than before. He peeked one eye open to see him still looming in the doorway. He looked to Robin, then jerked his head towards Dustin as inconspicuously as possible.

"Dustin why don't you go back downstairs," Robin said in a soft voice. It was the kind of voice you'd use when trying to get a child away from something that might hurt them. It was a strange combination of condescending and caring.

"What!?" Dustin yelled, making Steve squeeze his eyes shut again. Max started pressing a warm washcloth against Steve's sides.

"My back's pretty cut up too," He whispered to Max. She hummed in response.

"Dustin it's just that Steve really shouldn't be crowded right now and Max also needs to focus on not messing anything up and that's kinda hard to do when you're standing there gasping at every little thing." Robin continued, that soft voice giving way to her usual rambling. He could just imagine the way she smiled when she finished, annoyed and meaning hurry up and leave.

"But I can't just leave him- what if something-"

Steve let out a loud gasp as something sharp and stinging pressed against him. He looked down to see Max with an almost sheepish look. She had a soaked cotton ball in her hand.

"Sorry," She said quickly, "Should've warned you." She smiled. Steve huffed out a meager laugh. He leaned back again, trying not to be so tense. He'd had enough injuries to know that it was much better to relax during things like this.

He tilted his head to where Dustin and Robin were staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled again, knowing that with how his brow was furrowed and nose wrinkled it wouldn't look nearly as disarming as he meant it too. He wondered if there was still bat blood all in his teeth.

"Why don't you both head downstairs, get a pillow fort set up or something?" He suggested. Dustin's frown got impossibly bigger. Robin looked to the floor. Neither left the room, but both fell silent.

Steve sighed, but didn't bother trying to convince them anymore. He nodded to Max, and she continued in her work. His sides stung as she cleaned the room, swiping a washcloth lightly over the bites.

"It's really dirty," Max muttered in exasperation. Steve smiled.

"Well the Upside Down isn't very clean." His smiled faded just as quickly as it had come. Will had spent so long in the Upside Down. The group had barely survived a few hours in there, but that kid made it a near week. Steve would have to spoil him a bit next time he visited. Then again, Joyce might never let any of the Byers come back to Hawkins after this.

"I hope you kids never end up in there," He whispered, closing his eyes again. He let himself breathe for a moment, wincing each time Max pressed the washcloth to his skin. Not only was the water freezing compared to the rest of the room, but it was also soaked in alcohol. It was like the world was trying to give Steve the worst possible experience.

"Y'think I can take a nap, Max?" He asked, his words were starting to slur together. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. She pulled the washcloth away, but didn't say anything.

There was a shuffling in the room. Steve peeled one eye open to see Robin and Dustin had come closer. Robin had crouched down next to Max and was staring at Steve's wounds. Dustin was peeking over her shoulder. None of them looked very hopeful.

"What?" He moved to sit up further, but a twinge in his stomach made him curl in on himself with a gasp. He hugged his stomach, covering the wounds, and doubled over. The ever-present ringing in his ears increased and he shut his eyes tightly.

When he opened them again, the world was filled with spots and his head spun. It was like he was underwater again, his movements slow and thoughts muggy.

He heard someone yelling, then hands on his shoulders, then something cold. He closed his eyes again— that, or he lost his vision. Someone touched his face and he made a sound akin to a frightened animal.

He felt a heavy sense of vertigo, then he was out.

robin and steve really are platonic soulmates they're holding hands in hell just to protect each other while they're both crushing on other people <3 (also this is me asking if I should include ronance? def won't be big but I could add a couple moments?)

also I love Nancy so much and would die for her and I never want Stancy to be canon… I will say I don't understand the people that hate Nancy or Jonathon because they got together, both are really good characters (nancy is honestly my favorite character but Steve is the blorbo)

anyways, hope you enjoyed! thank you for reading and I'll try to answer any and all comments that I can. Love ya'll <3

[sadiewritingco]

Die in This House - Chapter 1

Summary - Mecha Man is the kind of hero you see posing for the camera and doing tricks for kids. He's your stereotypical hero that everyone looks up to in some way. Robert Robertson III, the man behind the mask, is not that kind of hero. There are some that might even call him a criminal, but that's subjective anyway.

Or while being Mecha Man Robert also is more of an antihero in that he'll go after corruption using his hacking skills instead of just villains and criminals

 Relationship and Tags - Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings Robert Robertson | Mecha Man & Z-Team, Chase | Track Star & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Malevola & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Flambae & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man & Sonar, Coupé | Janelle & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Golem & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Invisigal & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Punch Up & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Blonde Blazer | Mandy & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Beef the Dog & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Chase | Track Star (Dispatch), Malevola (Dispatch), Sonar (Dispatch), Flambae | Chad (Dispatch), Prism (Dispatch), Coupé | Janelle (Dispatch), Golem | Bruno (Dispatch), Invisigal | Courtney (Dispatch), Punch Up (Dispatch), Blonde Blazer | Mandy (Dispatch), Beef the Dog (Dispatch), Angst, Fluff, Team as Family, Z-Team as Family (Dispatch), Robert Robertson | Mecha Man-centric, Secret Identity, eventual whump, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No One Gets Cut From The Z-Team (Dispatch), Hurt Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, why did i lowkey forget how to tag, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change

Chapter - 1/?       Chapter Word Count  - 2,268/? 

Next  

AO3 

this is the first time I'm working on two fics at once in like three years... so let's see which one i abandon first! /j

I was planning on having some romance in this but then I decided I didn't want to focus on one particular relationship within the team and decided to give them all some spotlight... because in the end I am a sucker for found family

also I will say this isn't my best work but I got sick halfway through this and have been barely conscious so give me a break (That's also why the word count is shorter than my usual fics... it'll pick up)

anyways, please enjoy <3

Mecha Man is a hero. He’s the kind of hero that kids jump and grab at their parents and point at the sky when he flies by. He’s the hero that goes to press conferences and tells stories of his favorite crime busts. 

The first Mecha Man brought hope to the world, that anyone can be a hero if they want it enough. He was the classic tale of rags to riches, if those rags were a large inheritance, and the riches was recognition of it in the most eye-catching way. 

The second Mecha Man, Atlas, was very similar, but better. It seemed he would have his status handed to him, but he took what was given and improved on it tenfold. He became even more popular and started a new wave of heroes. It seemed with his shiny new suit and incredible team he couldn’t ever conceivably lose. Some people even thought he was immortal. 

The third, and likely the last, Mecha Man, who the public deemed Mecha Man Blue, was very different from his forefathers. He was all the performative hero as the others were, doing tricks in the air and posing for the cameras. 

Yes, Mecha Man Blue was a hero, but Robert Robertson the Third was not. 

He didn’t kill anyone. He didn’t purposefully hurt anyone. He wouldn’t even go so far as to call himself a criminal. But that was a subjective term; any average jaywalker could be called a criminal if someone hated them enough. 

Many people in powerful places hated him enough to call him a criminal. He was sure Mecha Man’s name would have been slandered to hell and back if anyone knew what he’d been up to in his small, bland apartment. 

He spent nights awake, typing away at an old computer. He would go into the backrooms of every program he could get his hands on. He would find files labeled TOP SECRET and read them like the newest murder mystery that hit the market. 

He’d blackmail people. He’d pretend to be another person. He’d do whatever he had to get what he needed. 

But he wasn’t a criminal, and he wasn’t a villain of any kind. He was still every bit the hero that his dad and grandpa were, maybe he was even better. They didn’t have the same skills as him; they never tried to do what he did. 

Robert Robertson the Third had exposed twenty-three bribes, sixteen assassinations, and thirty-two corrupt deals since he became Mecha Man. And no one knew it was him. 

---

Robert practically chugged the cup of coffee he had made; the powdery dregs of it nearly making him gag as it went down.  He grabbed a handful of cereal straight from the box and gave it to Beef. The dog yapped happily and slobbered all over Robert’s hand as he ate. 

He wiped his hand on his pant-leg as he set the box down. He leaned down and patted Beef’s head. 

He grabbed the blue uniform that had been haphazardly thrown onto the counter the night before. He buttoned it up and tried to smooth out any wrinkles he found. His home life might be a mess, but he preferred to look at least a little presentable at work. 

He snatched his keys and opened the door, holding it open until Beef hobbled out of the room and into the hall. The dog led the way to the elevator, making Robert smile tiredly as he followed. 

He had completed this routine for three weeks now. Get up a little earlier than he used to, eat a half-assed breakfast and drink shitty coffee, get on his uniform, go to work. 

It easily beat his old routine. Even if work itself held little satisfaction compared to what he used to do, and he had to deal with the most annoying people on the planet. It was still a welcome change to sitting helplessly on his hands in the weeks after he woke up from the coma. 

The commute was short too, sometimes he’d even decide to walk instead of drive. He didn’t drive often anyway; he could hardly afford the gas prices. 

He got to SDN a bit earlier than he meant to. Beef scampered around his legs as he pushed open the door. The man at the front desk gave Robert a quick wave, which he returned, as Robert passed. 

He went into the elevator, his finger hovering over the keypad. He looked down as the button that would send him to the basement, where the gym was. He regarded it for a moment, then press the button for the third floor. 

He wasn’t entirely in the mood to exercise today. His body was already aching and he wasn’t excited to make that worse for the entire day. It was bad enough working at a desk job on top of sleeping in a shitty lawn chair. 

The elevator lurched to a stop, then the doors opened as a bell chimed. Robert made his way to his cubicle. Galen was already there, just about the only other person and the only one Robert recognized. He didn’t look up when Robert passed. 

He sat down at his desk, Beef sitting down at his feet and staring up at him. He could only resist so long before he scooped the dog up and hugged him in his lap. Beef reached his head up and licked Robert’s chin. He roughly pet Beef’s belly in response. 

The bullpen started to fill up more as time passed. Chase arrived surprisingly late compared to the others and promptly stole Beef from Robert’s lap. He only mourned the loss for a moment before icons on his computer lit up to show some of his team arriving. 

He went ahead and put on his headset, making sure he was muted for the moment. He didn’t think he’d ever been more embarrassed than knowing that the entire branch had heard nearly every conversation between him and his team for the first two days he’d worked at SDN. He was reluctant to repeat the mistake. 

“Hey! Rob-Bob!” Sonar greeted excitedly as he walked past. Malevola waved at him idly behind the bat-hybrid. She threw a small, plastic package at him as she passed. 

“Have a twink, love,” She smiled cheekily. 

Robert just barely caught it. He smiled at the sweet treat provided to him so soon. 

“Thanks, Mal!” He called as she disappeared into the break room. He’d be sure to give the two, because he assumed Sonar played a hand in the gift, easier missions if he could afford to. He wasn’t above playing favorites. 

A chime rang from his headphones, and he swiveled his chair back to facing the computer. A red alert had popped up on the map. It was a call about a bookstore robbery, which, odd choice, but who was he to judge? 

He sent Coupe. She’d mentioned something earlier about wanting a new book, from her favorite author; something about a romance between a vampire and mortal in the middle of a steampunk dystopian. He didn’t even pretend to understand it.  

With the first call having arrived, so too did the banter. 

“Hey Roberto,” Prism drawled, her voice staticky through the headphones. “If you were a criminal, what kinda places would you target?” 

“What kind of question is that?” He rolled his eyes. 

“The ones that I think of when I’m bored,” She replied with clear annoyance.  

“I dunno, go after some big, shitty, corporation?” He spun around in his seat as he answered. He fought not to smirk, especially when Chase popped his head over the cubical and glared at him. 

Robert spread his hands out in a shrug. The old man rolled his eyes and plopped back down, muttering something under his breath that finally made Robert smirk. He chuckled to himself then went back to the computer. 

He sent Prism and Flambae on another debate call. They demolished the first one and enjoyed it too. He was happy to give them the chance to do it again; especially if it would humiliate some jerk podcasters. 

“Dude,” Visi started, “you work for a big, shitty corporation. Be careful,” She laughed.  

“There’s definitely shittier,” Malevola responded. 

“There was that one that some guy exposed a bit ago,” Golem added. 

“Oh yeah, wasn’t that connected to Vanderstank or whatever?” Visi jeered, obviously trying to rile up Sonar. 

“Hey! Vanderstenk had nothing to do with that! He released a statement last week about how he was framed and it was actually his secretary that just forged his handwriting to send the money to that gang.” Sonar explained fiercely. It almost sounded rehearsed. 

“Oh, his secretary, huh?” Visi continued, sounding doubtful. 

“Little misogynistic,” Robert muttered with a smile. 

“No! No! He would never! No!” Sonar yelled over the line, making Robert’s headphones hiss. 

“Alright! Sonar there’s a press conference from the mayor that I need you to go bodyguard!” Robert cut in, trying to avoid the breakdown he’d helped create. “And while we’re at it- let's clear the line for a minute.” He added, a little too hopefully. 

Surprisingly enough, it became fairly silent after that. Robert took the time to go over the finished calls. He felt a swelling of pride in his chest them all being successes. Just two weeks ago there’d likely  be only a few successes a shift. His team was improving by the day. 

Robert leaned against his chair, his head facing the ceiling. He rolled his neck and shoulders, hearing a satisfying pop as he did so. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the sound of an incoming call to sit back up. 

Then, a shadow fell over him. He opened his eyes to see Coupe looming over him. He blinked. 

“Coffee, Robert,” she said simply, holding out a mug for him to take. 

“Oh.” He sat up, carefully taking the warm mug from her hands. “Thank you, Coupe.” 

“Thank you, I had been avoiding buying the new book I mentioned but I finally did after taking down the thief at the bookstore,” She declared in her usual, monotone voice. Robert smiled softly. 

“Glad to help.” He chuckled. Coupe nodded and headed towards the breakroom without another word. 

Robert spent the rest of his shift with a warm feeling in his chest that he didn’t think was just from the coffee. 

---

Robert pulled his bag from his locker, dragging it with him to the bench in the locker-room. He settled on the wood and pulled the zipper to rummage through it. He pulled out his hoodie before stuffing it back in. 

“You need to be more careful,” Chase grumbled behind him. Robert glanced to the older man with a shrug. “I’m serious, don’t joke about the shit you’ve been doing.” He sat down next to Robert. “It’s bad enough I know.” He added sharply. 

“I never meant for you to know.” Robert pulled out a bag of treats for Beef, then set them to the side. He hoped the dog hadn’t heard the crinkling of the plastic bag. 

“That’s worse,” Chase grumbled, “What you’re doing is too dangerous for no one to know about it.” 

“And being Mecha Man isn’t?” 

“Being Mecha Man you’ve got a giant metal suit protecting you.” 

Robert rolled his eyes. That suit hadn’t done much to keep him protected. Yeah, he’d be long dead without it, but he had too many scars to feel protected by it. It didn’t even hold up great in his fight with Flambae so long ago. He had a burn on his shoulder from a busted pipe during that fight. 

“Chase, someone has to do this work, and most people who want to can’t.” 

Chase put a hand on his shoulder, pulling Robert away from his frantic task. He turned to see the old man’s worried gaze locked onto him. Robert hated that look; it made him feel guilty for doing the right thing. 

“Just be careful when you do it,” He urged softly. Robert nodded his head gently. He patted Chase’s hand where it still sat on his shoulder. 

“And stop fucking alluding to it or your team of dumbass rejects are gonna be the ones to catch you, of all people!” He added sharply. 

“Alright, alright,” Robert relented. 

Chase stood up then, giving Robert’s shoulder a quick squeeze. For a moment Robert wondered if Chase used him for a support to stand, but he quickly dashed the thought from his head. 

“Love ya’, Unc,” Robert called, eliciting a wave and grumbled love you too as the older man left. 

Then Robert was left completely alone in the dirty locker room. He looked around the dull room, seeing bit of graffiti on some people’s lockers; it was probably from the Z-Team. He turned back to the back. 

It didn’t take him much longer to finally find what he had been looking for. He blew out a breath when he pulled out the phone, different from the one that now sat snuggly in his pocket. He unlocked it to see one short message from an unknown ID. 

It only had an address and time. Robert committed it to memory, then deleted the message and ID altogether. He put the phone back in the bottom of the bag, then stuffed it in his locker. 

It felt like Robert’s nerves were on fire as he left the building, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the thought of his first tip since his coma. It would be a fun next few days. 

I kinda wanted this chapter to be a bit of an introduction, we'll get to some action next chapter!

I don't have much to say really... probably because my brain isn't working rn (damn you cold!)

thanks for reading, love ya'll!

[sadiewritingco]

Like a Hammer - Chapter 2

Summary - Robert breaks the news to the rest of the team about the Phoenix Program

New Tags - Robert Robertson | Mecha Man has Chronic Pain, Chronic Pain, Rating May Change, Whump, not a lot but we're getting there, maybe *new tags may not be featured in this chapter but do apply to the whole fic* 

Chapter - 2/?       Chapter Word Count  - 3,411/? 

Chp 1 – Next  

AO3 

So I did decide that this will have Flambert! It definitely won't be the main focus but it's there :D

I changed the name of the fic because I'm obsessed with Metric and have been trying to name all my fics after their songs (also I thought it might fit with some of themes that might occur later) so this is named after Help, I'm Alive go check it out its such a good song!

also I was gonna give Flambae a different name (because I hate that his name is Chad it's too goofy) but I just decided to call him Flambae the whole time… so sorry he doesn't get a real name

this was only have beat-read so sorry for any typos

also thank you everyone who left a comment or kudos or anything this is insane how popular this got in such short amount of time! I don't think I've ever gotten so many kudos in one day

love ya'll, please enjoy <3

Robert stepped into the break room with the demeanor of a man being placed in front of a firing squad. He did not look at any of the Z-Team that were inside. 

When Prism loudly greeted him from where she sat with Flambae, he was only able to manage a soft wave. He pointedly ignored the mutterings and whispers that he heard behind him from the two. 

He grabbed the pot of coffee that sat on the counter and poured it into a mug. It was about room temperature by now, and he didn’t need the caffeine with his nerves alight like they were. He really just needed something to kill the time. 

He wished he could do more at the moment. He tried to tell himself that talking to Visi was already a big enough risk. He wouldn’t do any good to anyone at all if he got himself fired. 

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the headache that had gotten exponentially worse in the short time since talking to Blazer.  He wrapped his hands around the coffee mug, trying to take in whatever warmth was left from it. 

“Hey, bitch.” Robert startled, turning his head quickly to see Flambae was now leaning against the fridge. He was fixing him with a weird look that Robert didn’t want to even try to decipher. 

“What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He smiled, the small gap in his teeth on full display. Robert tried not to look at it. 

He blinked, glanced to the side, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He cleared his throat and leaned more against the counter. His legs still felt weird, like he’d just been on a treadmill and hadn’t sat down yet. 

“Just an off day,” He grumbled. He slid his fingers along the coffee mug, just to have something to do with his hands. 

The door to the break room opened as Sonar walked in. The bat-hybrid's ears flicked and he went to the microwave. Robert pretended he didn’t see, or smell, the dead rat he was holding. 

“Painful day?” Flambae asked with a deep frown. Robert blinked. 

“What?” He set his coffee mug down. The microwave turned on loudly and a grating hum followed. Robert glanced back to Sonar. Did he know this would be the last time he’d get to stink up the breakroom? It almost felt like he got an especially disgusting one. The thought almost made Robert smile. 

“You said a bit ago you had some... eh pain days?” Flambae explained. “Is today one?” Robert could see Prism slapping a palm over her face over Flambae’s shoulder. 

“I guess,” He answered dubiously. “Just... not a great day.” And it’s only going to get worse. In a few minutes they’d all be having horrible days. 

He wondered how violently everyone would react. He desperately hoped things didn’t get too out of hand, it wouldn’t help any of the Z-Team's case and would only make things more difficult for him. 

“Why’re you asking?” Robert said once he realized Flambae was very much so still towering over him. 

Flambae looked at him blankly for a moment. It was long and unsettling enough for Robert to worry if he was concussed on his last mission or something. The man had been injured, but he thought Malevola had taken care of that. 

The microwave finished with a shrill beeping. 

“What? I can’t worry about the wellbeing of my boss?” Flambae snapped. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for the gloating to start.” Robert smiled, falling into the easy routine of antagonizing the hot-headed hero. “Something about how you’re too strong and hot to ever be in pain?” He snickered. 

“I am! I’m not a little bitch who literally wakes up on the wrong of the bed.” Flambae sneered, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Really?” Robert said with his best fake-awe voice, “’Cause you act like you wake up on the wrong side of the bed every day.” 

Flambae opened his mouth to snark back, but his face quickly fell to one of disgust as the smell of Sonar’s lunch finally reached his senses. Robert’s nose scrunched as it hit him too. 

He grabbed his coffee, hoping to drown out the smell with the taste of the brown liquid. A nice warmth flooded his insides as he nearly chugged the drink. He blinked as he pulled the mug away from his lips. Now his freezing fingers were soaking up the heat bleeding through the mug. 

“So, what’s up with this meeting Blazer called?” Flambae asked, and the warm ease travelling through Robert gave way to a worried chill. 

He pressed his lips together in a firm line, knowing he couldn’t possibly say it now but not wanting to betray his team like this. Clearly Visi wouldn’t get to anyone in the breakroom in time. Looking around the room, just about half the team was there, and there was no guarantee that the others would get away in time either. 

“It’s bad news,” Robert mumbled, sounding much more sober and somber than his earlier bickering. 

Then, the door to the breakroom opened, Blonde Blazer leaning in the room with a sad expression. The chill that had tormented Robert for the past few months pooled in his gut in the form of dread. 

He forced his gaze to remain upwards and steadfast as he followed the Z-Team, all filing into the conference room that the team had oftentimes claimed as theirs. This time, there would be no great speech, no announcement that no one would be cut, only the sickening news of a failure that belonged to nobody and everyone at once. 

---

Flambae could physically feel the tension in the room. The Z-Team’s conferences were always a little heated, most of the time they only had conferences because of major screw-ups; but this was a cold tension, one that even he felt. 

He muttered to Prism as Robert and Blazer both stood at the front of the table. They had been waiting for the rest of the team for nearly five minutes. 

“What did you do?” Prism teased, quick to blame him for whatever issue caused this meeting. 

“Fuck you, I am perfect and do no wrong!” He hissed back, smacking Prism’s shoulder. She snickered and settled back in her seat. 

Flambae crossed his arms firmly over his chest. He glared at the door, hoping the rest of the team that thought themselves too good to show up felt its heat. He wanted to be done with this, hear whatever bad news was coming and deal with it now instead of later. 

A flame flickered in his chest as he grew more impatient. It wallowed there, growing hotter and hotter and it wanted to travel to his hands and lick at his fingers. He was itching to go back out into the field and deal with whatever mundane problems were happening out in the world. 

Robert’s obvious discomfort only served to make things worse. The other man was shuffling on his feet and holding Beef tightly. The dog squirmed in his arms and tried to lick his face. 

“Does anyone know where the others are?” Blonde Blazer finally asked. Her kind corporate voice gave-way to a hint of impatience. It made Flambae grin. 

He liked Blazer, she was a respectable hero and an overall good person, but her ever-present corporate attitude ate away at his patience for the woman. She also didn’t do much to keep the Z-Team around, there wasn’t much complaint from her about someone potentially being cut from the team. 

“Uh- I dunno.” Sonar shrugged noncommittally. His ears flicked towards the door and he sat up straighter. He let out a short shriek that cut off abruptly and made everyone else in the room shrink back and cover their ears.  

Beef whined and struggled more in Robert arms. The man put the dog down and opened the door for him to run out. Flambae watched as Robert’s frown deepened without the dog present. 

“None of them are in the building,” Sonar declared with little interest. The bat hybrid leaned forward and rest his chin on two hands. His ears continued to flick around. 

Blazer turned to Robert with a pointed glare. The fire in Flambae’s chest spread up to his shoulders and started to slither down his arms before he reined it in. 

“Do you know where they are?” She asked tiredly, completely giving up on the corporate speak. 

“No idea.” Robert shrugged. Flambae could see him picking at his fingers. The man glanced around the room at the small part of the Z-Team that had gathered. Only him, Prism, Sonar, and Waterboy had shown up. 

“We might as well get started,” Robert urged. Blazer pressed her lips in a firm line. 

“It’d be best if they were all here,” she grumbled. 

“You know we can hear you, yeah?” Flambae said, tired of not knowing what was going on. 

Robert and Blazer gave each other a weird look. Prism glanced at Flambae, but he could only shrug with a frown. He hated not knowing things, especially things that might make him angry. It was better to be prepared for things that would piss him off, to keep the warm candlelight in his chest from turning to a house fire. 

“Alright,” Robert said breathily. Flambae watched as his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Flambae pressed his lips together tightly before releasing a breath of his own. 

“I’m sure you all can guess that there’s bad news,” Robert continued. Strangely enough, he wasn’t looking at any of them for more than a few seconds. Usually, he could captivate any one of them in his deep brown eyes, but now his gaze flitted across each of them nervously. 

He paused then, and the fire inside Flambae started to warm his palms. He pressed them together firmly to smother the flames flickering along his fingers. Prism fidgeted beside him, feeling the new, greater wave of heat flowing off of him. 

“Spit it out already!” Prism said harshly, “You’re stressing us all out!” She threw her hands in the air to better show her exasperation. 

Robert stared at her for a moment, mouth opening and then closing. He turned his gaze away from all of them and onto the table instead, like it was as fascinating as the Mona Lisa. 

“The Phoenix Program is being cut,” Robert declared, looking back up at them all with more exhaustion than Flambae had ever seen on the man. 

The room fell into an intense state of shock. Sonar sat up, more alert and interested than he had been before. Waterboy started looking around the room in a near panic. Prism sat up and stared Robert down. 

Flambae clenched his fists tightly. A seething heat crept up his neck to his face. 

The only sounds in the room were the industrial hum of the AC, muffled conversations from outside the room, and the shifting of fabric as Blonde Blazer shuffled on her feet. 

“So- what does that- this mean?” Waterboy asked hesitantly. 

“The team is being disbanded,” Blazer stood up, standing in front of Robert almost protectively. Flambae narrowed his eyes at the woman. 

“Miss Blazer- this can’t be real!” Prism interjected. “We’ve improved a lot since Robbie showed up! Why would we be disbanded now?” She laughed nervously. It was a sharp noise that was grating compared to all other sounds in the room. 

“I’m sorry but everything just- built up,” She explained. To Flambae, it sounded like she didn’t entirely know what the reason was either. “All the mistakes and- and disobeying orders, corporate was tired of it. And not just from you, Z-Team has been doing amazing compared to the others in the Phoenix Program.” It almost sounded like she was pleading. 

There was still more to say. Blazer was still skirting around something that she knew would piss them off more. Flambae glared at Robert; the man was surveying the room with a frown. 

“So, what- are we being fired?” Sonar asked, cutting through Blazer’s explanation. 

“Well- I mean-” 

Robert put a hand on Blazer’s shoulder to stop her in her ramblings. She looked back with a pained expression, but she let him take the lead. He stepped forward, still less confident than usual, but more determined than before. 

He had a deep, stubborn frown, and he looked intently at the team. They all fell silent again when he stepped forward. 

Flambae hoped for some better news, that Robert would make all this go away. He was able to stop one of them being cut, after all. Surely, he could combat this. 

“You’re all going to have to serve your sentences in prison. The Phoenix Program was a kind of parole, without it... people think it’s too dangerous to let supers go free.” Robert looked at all of them, not giving anyone an ounce of hope. “The only thing any of us can do right now, is cooperate.” 

Despite the heat that had been wafting off of Flambae for the whole meeting, causing the room to heat up a few extra degrees and put the AC to work, it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on his head. 

---

Flambae though that if this were to ever happen, he would’ve fought back. Maybe he would’ve given some shitty cops a few bad burns. Maybe he’d fly off and not stop until he crossed some border. Or maybe he’d just let himself burn out like a match. 

Instead, he made no protest. He didn’t even say anything. Yes, a million, angry thoughts were flooding his head, but they did not boil over into the real world. 

Flames were still licking at his fingers as he and the others were led outside. 

 Sonar had turned into his bat form as soon as Robert declared that he wouldn’t be doing anything to stop it. Prism had jumped up and started screaming obscenities. Waterboy had shrunk into himself and tried to pretend he didn’t exist. 

Flambae had been silent. There was much he wanted to say. He wanted to burn the building to the ground and bring everyone inside with him. But, ultimately, Robert was right, despite how much his response made Flambae want to burn the man alive. 

If he did any of that, he may never see the light of day again. So, he walked silently through the building. He stood in the center of the elevator without a word, seething silently. 

There were already transport cars outside, with a few heroes to supervise. He sneered at one as he approached him, holding up handcuffs that would cover his entire hand. 

He raised his hands, not allowing the hero the satisfaction of rough-housing him. He would keep as much dignity as he could. 

The fire in his palms was smothered as the metal clasped around his hands. It was cold, but the heat wafting off of him warmed the metal immediately. 

The others were all led into their own cars, because apparently they were too dangerous together. 

Flambae shrugged off the hero as he grabbed his arm, walking ahead to the transport on his own. He heard quick footsteps following behind him. 

“I’m gonna figure this out,” Robert promised quietly behind him. The fire in Flambae’s chest protested loudly to the man’s presence. 

“I’m not going to rot in a prison forever,” Flambae hissed, turning his head to glare at Robert. He stepped up into the back of the transport. 

“You won’t.” The door slammed loudly shut behind him. His shoulders slumped as the loud engine of the transport whirred to life. 

He sat down on the bench along the wall as the hero sat down across from him. He glared at Flambae like he had just set a hospital of fire, like he was just another escaped convict. 

He returned the glare with even more heat. At the same time the metal covering his hands warmed exponentially, becoming malleable and weak with every minute it touched his skin. 

The ride to prison was long. 

---

When Flambae was shoved into a room- a cell, and the door slammed behind him with a clang, he warmed his skin so much that the handcuffs melted off of his hands like clumps of wet sand. 

His state of shock had given way to a lingering fury. The hero glaring at him all the way here only served to make him less willing to cooperate. 

He leaned against the far war. The room looked more like on of an institution rather that a prison cell. It was specialized for supers like him, he knew. He had been stuck in one like this for almost a year before deciding to give the Phoenix Program a shot. 

It was dreary and dull. It looked like a place someone would purposefully go to to waste away and die. He was sure most villains would treat it like a place to die.  

The fire that had been heating against the surface of his skin, trying to break free, intensified. He sunk to the ground and took in a shaky breath. 

His therapist had said so many times to focus on his breathing when he felt like things were getting out of hand. He had never felt like he’d had less control. 

Even when he was arrested the first time, it had been his own fault. Not only because he wasn’t able to be Mecha Man, but also because he was an idiot that thought arson was a great way to let out his anger. 

But what had he done this time to end up in the slammer? Get fired from his job because of budget cuts? 

The thought made flames dance along his skin. They were low, and didn’t even give off any smoke yet. He breathed heavily, slow and deep. 

If anything he was most upset about Robert. How long had he known? He seemed perfectly normal in the morning, then jumpy and worried during lunch. Flambae told himself that Robert couldn’t have known for long; he wouldn’t have let this happened if he’d known for more than a day. He had to tell himself that. 

Beside, Robert was a normie, what could he do?  

Flambae sat for a long time, just staring at the door. Fire dancing along his skin, just begging to be released. 

His eyes sank closed as they started to sting. How long had he been here already? How long would he stay here? Surely there wouldn’t be much more on his sentence, it wasn’t long to begin with anyway, at least compared to the usual villain that got locked up in here. 

There was a schunk as a compartment on the door slid open. Flambae looked up to see a pair of blue eyes peeked through a rectangular hole near the bottom of the door. 

Seconds later they retreated, and a plate of food was thrown through. It clattered on the ground, spilling its content onto the floor. 

Something in Flambae snapped then. With a loud yell his entire body burst into flames, hiding berthing but the vague shape of him. 

He rushed forwards, slamming against the thick, metal door. It heated under his touch, the metal warping and turning a bright orange. 

A shrill, repeating alarm went off and the lights turned red. All Flambae could see was smoke as it billowed off of him and flooded the room. 

His fists pummeled against the door, making the metal cave in further. He yelled again and the room got hotter. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the fire started to calm. Flambae was not calm, his heart was pounding and he was willing the fire to return, but it would not heed his call. 

Flambae took in a breath, he did not feel the sweet relief of oxygen. He gasped again, there was nothing. 

He coughed and sputtered as his knees started to feel weak. There was a soft hissing all around him. The fire died more, like a snubbed candle. 

With a shout he collapsed onto the floor, desperately trying to hold himself up with his arms. 

He yelled loudly one more time, trying to summon more fire to save him from whatever was doing this to him. 

Instead he fell face-first onto the floor and wheezed weakly.     

what does a fire and a person have in common? the need for oxygen!! :D

anyways Flambae's powers really interest me because he obviously kinda sets himself on fire whenever he's mad (the spaghetti incident) so I thought it'd be neat to kinda make it seem like it was alive? idk I'm a sucker for personification

I also wasn't expecting to have so much of the chp. in Flambae's POV i feel like I made too aware or something lol

anyways thanks for reading, love ya'll <3

[sadiewritingco]

Masterlist – Disptach 

WIP Like a Hammer – 1 2 AO3 

WIP Die in This House - 1 AO3

[sadiewritingco]

Like a Hammer - Chapter 1

Summary - The Phoenix Program has been combatted by the higher ups of SDN since it was first suggested, but with it's continued successes no one ever thought it would be cut. When that finally happens, and the Z-Team are in danger of being put back in prison, Robert must warn them and find a way to get the Phoenix Program back up and running

 Relationship and Tags -  Flambae/Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man & Z-Team, Invisigal & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Invisigal (Dispatch), Chase | Track Star (Dispatch), Blonde Blazer | Mandy (Dispatch), Golem (Dispatch), Flambae (Dispatch), Prism (Dispatch), Punch Up (Dispatch), Waterboy (Dispatch), Coupé (Dispatch), Sonar (Dispatch), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Team as Family, Z-Team as Family (Dispatch), Found Family, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man Needs a Hug, Protective Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, he loves his team, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, sorry i don't have a lot of this figured out yet, but i do have plans!, just not tags, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man can hack, guys it is prevalent in this, Robert Robertson hates corrupt corporations, i don't make the rules

Chapter - 1/?       Chapter Word Count  - 3,095/? 

Next  

AO3 

I will say idk if this'll have whump (most of my fics do) so if ya'll want that lmk and I'll figure out how to make that happen :)

also dont know if this'll just be flambert or pol z-team, I like both but flambae has my heart right now (It also won't really be the main focus this is more a found family fic)

don't ask me what episode this is between I don't know… let's just pretend canon took like a few months before they finally got Shroud :D

please enjoy <3

Robert sat in Blonde Blazer’s office, staring down at a manila folder in front of him with wide eyes. The shuttered humming of the AC and the ticking of the clock behind him were the only things he could hear aside from his thundering heartbeat. 

Blazer was looking at him worriedly. She was talking fast and trying to find every possible excuse or explanation she could for what she had put in front of him. 

He grabbed the bottom corner of the folder, holding it between his index and thumb, and slowly opened it. There wasn’t much inside. A list of crimes, mistakes, and screw-ups and what the consequences for them were. 

A chill ran up his spine. The AC was blowing against his neck, making said chill burrow under his skin and run deep through his bones. 

He reached the last page of the folder. He didn’t quite believe what he was reading. This had to be some joke. 

But no. When he looked up at Blazer’s face he only saw regret and an accepting despair. She wasn’t a good enough actor to keep something like this up for so long, and she certainly wasn’t cruel enough to joke about this. 

“I don’t understand,” Robert whispered, his voice hoarse. His face scrunched up as he cleared his throat. 

Blazer gently placed a hand over his own. She stifled its shaking, but his other hand was spasming with anxiety. He put it in his lap and started picking at the tip of his fingers with his thumb like they were itching. 

“You’re not being fired. We’ll still work on your suit,” she reassured softly, squeezing his hand. He wanted to pull away, she felt too warm in comparison to the ever present chill that’s tormented him for the past week. 

No one should seem that warm while giving such horrible news. 

“But the team…” he trailed off. His gaze travelled to a space behind Blazer. There was a poster on the wall with a badly edited cat on a tree reading Hang in There. 

This couldn’t be real. They were improving; Blazer had said so many times how much they were improving. What possibly could’ve gone so wrong?this just couldn’t be real. 

Yes, they’ve made some mistakes, but in comparison to how the Z-team was before they were few and far in between. If this were ever going to happen why would it be now? 

An aching had started to form near the base of his skull, a haze forming over his vision that made everything feel a bit slower. It was the start of a familiar migraine, always around the same time of day when his body decided it was time for a shutdown. 

“The Phoenix Program is being shut down, Robert, I’m sorry.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand like it would soften the blow, like it was soothing at all. It was grounding him when all he wanted to do was float away and forget he existed. 

Maybe Robert had been wrong, maybe Blazer was cruel enough to do something like this.  

“The higher-ups wanted the funds to go elsewhere-“ 

“And who better to cut than a group of snarky villains?” Robert cut in sharply. He pulled his hand away, finally. The daze he found himself to be in for the past ten minutes to finally have been overtaken by a burning rage in his gut. 

“Who made this decision? I mean- who do we go to to stop it?” He leaned forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose to push back the migraine. His leg started to bounce up and down as his brain started to process all of what he’d just been told. He felt like a lagging machine that had just jumped forward.  

“It’s already been finalized-“ 

Robert stood. He started pacing to sooth the sudden urge to move. He was never one to sit idle; even in his hulking metal suit he was always moving, pressing buttons, pulling levers, and typing in commands. 

“So- we can challenge it! Nag the higher-ups until they change their mind. I mean we can’t just let those idiots work with no pay, they’d revolt.” He laughed then, sharp and grating. It was humorless and hysterical. 

Blazer stood up then too. She was in front of Robert in a few short strides. Her hands gripped onto his forearms with strength that would surely bruise his pale skin and stopped him in his restlessness. 

“Robert the program is cut!” She hissed, quiet but firm. “None of Z-team are part of SDN anymore other than you.” She stared at him intensely, her deep blue eyes burning holes through his skull.  

Robert grit his teeth and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt lightheaded from all the blood rushing to his head; his pounding heart was the loudest thing in the room. 

“So… so what happens to them?” He looked at the ground, at his old, dirty shoes that probably weren’t fit for a workplace. 

 Blazer squeezed his arms in a way that should have been reassuring. 

“They have to serve out their sentences in prison,” she said with the finality of a death sentence. 

Then she stepped back, letting go of Robert. He felt suddenly so much heavier, and worried that his legs wouldn’t be able to hold him up. 

He stared at Blazer as she started to leave the room. Her hand was on the door knob when she turned around again. She looked so sad, and a for a moment Robert thought that she didn’t deserve to be sad, she was the one letting this happen. 

But no; she was a good person. She would be sad about anyone getting hurt. And how could he possibly blame her for not doing anything while he himself was standing uselessly in the middle of her office? 

“We’ll have a meeting in half an hour and tell them. Take your lunch break for now. And don’t tell them before the meeting… it’ll just make things more difficult- for everyone.” Then she was out the door, leaving Robert to stand alone in her office. Utterly useless to do anything at all.  

---

Robert hurried back to his desk in the way that people do when they try to look normal. He felt like he was tripping over his own feet every other step; it was only made worse with how much his legs were shaking. 

It was honestly absurd, how much he was unsettled. He had faced death countless time since he was eleven, he’d been scarred and mangled and gone to hell and back in the couple of decades that he’d been Mech Man. 

So why should he be so close to passing out like this when nothing bad was even happening to him? He wasn’t in danger; Blazer had made it clear that his spot at SDN was secure. He should be perfectly fine, and yet his body acted like he was at gunpoint. 

When he made it back to his desk, Beef started yipping and jumping on his legs. He patted the dog’s head quickly before rummaging through the drawers of his desk. 

He grabbed a pad of sticky notes and tore off the one on the top, then continued to search his desk like a police raid for something to write with. 

“What’s got you all pressed?” Chase asked, leaning over his cubicle. Robert only grunted as he slammed another drawer shut. 

“Do you have a pencil?” He leaned around the cubicle  frantically to check for himself. Chase fixed him with a judging look, but reached back and pulled a pencil from a cup on his desk. 

Robert all but snatched it from his hand, then nearly slammed down the sticky note (it had gotten crumpled from how tightly he was holding it). He started scribbling away. 

“What’s going on, kid?” Chase asked again, concern leaking into his voice. 

Robert pressed his lips into a firm line. He folded the sticky note twice into a small square and stood up straight. 

“They’re cutting the Phoenix Program,” he said finally. Beef barked again and Robert leaned down to pick up the dog. He tried to lick Robert’s face as the man scratched his chin. 

Chase sighed and shook his head. He then glared at Robert pointedly. 

“Don’t do anything stupid. This isn’t something you can fight.” 

Robert scowled at the ground. 

The elevator door opened with a loud ding, and Robert looked up to see Invisigal stepping through. She waved at him half heartedly as she passed and headed towards the break room. 

Robert glanced at Chase again, who rolled his eyes and sat back down. He took it as a good enough sign that the man wouldn’t try to stop him, at least. 

Robert followed Invisigal, his steps much more sure than before. He always felt better after making a plan, even if his current one was rushed and held together by fool’s hope and duct tape.  

Invisigal was just opening the door when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

“Hey-“ she jerked around, a scowl on her face. 

Before she could say anything else, Robert shoved the sticky note in her hand. He put a finger over his mouth and hoped she would listen. 

He backed away as she opened the sticky note and watched with baited breath as she read it. Finally, she looked back to him, though he could tell she didn’t quite grasp the weight of the situation. 

She rolled her eyes and gave him a lazy thumbs up. “And you say I’m the HR violation,” she grumbled as she continued into the break room. 

Robert let out a soft chuckle. It alleviated a bit of his anxiety, but his stomach was still roiling and his heart hadn’t slowed much. Still, there was a bit of relief. 

He went back to his desk, feeling much more steady on his feet; though his nerves still assaulted him. His fool’s hope felt a tiny bit more like hope hope. 

 He passed Waterboy as he went to the break room as well. He and Visi had been on a mission with something about a cat, and Waterboy volunteered to join with little hesitation and great enthusiasm. 

Robert grimaced when he saw the several scratches on the guy’s face. 

“Sorry, Waterboy.” Robert patted his shoulder as he passed. 

“It’s fine- it’s- used to- uh- scratches- cat scratches,” he stuttered out. Robert still mumbled his sympathies. 

The new hero’s last job was getting scratched to shit by a cat. Robert was regretting so many of his choices now. Maybe if he had thought over his dispatches more, been able to plan for further ones, he could’ve avoided whatever failure marked the end for the Phoenix Program. 

He made it back to his desk and picked up Beef from where the dog was laying on his chair. He grumbled out a lame excuse of taking him for a quick walk to Chase and headed towards the elevator. 

He tried to stifle his nerves as an irritating tune came over the speakers. He was expecting to be caught, even though he technically wasn’t doing anything wrong yet. 

He supposed that would be changing very quickly. 

---

Courtney slipped through the doors to SDN behind a nameless dispatcher that was heading to their car. Her throat burned from the trek downstairs and the dash across the parking lot. 

Robert was sitting against the curb with Beef in his lap. He was scratching behind the dog’s ear and would occasionally stuff his entire face in the dog’s back. 

Courtney took a quick puff of her inhaler, appearing to the rest of the world for a moment. She then stalked over to where Robert was sitting. 

It was cold out, her cropped jacket doing little to warm her up. She could see Robert shivering slightly as she sat down next to him. 

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just watched him as he muttered quietly to his dog. Beef had certainly noticed her; he was sniffing the air in her direction. 

After another moment, she punched Robert’s shoulder. He jerked back and let out a yelp. She fought not to laugh as he glared in her general direction. It made her lungs strain but it was so worth it. 

“Very subtle,” Robert grumbled. He was looking down at Beef, like he was talking to the dog and not her. She frowned and leaned back against the curb, placing her palms on the grass behind it. 

“Listen, I have really bad news,” he continued after a moment. Courtney shut her eyes tightly as her head started to pound from lack of oxygen. She took in a quick inhale before disappearing again. 

Robert stopped again, side-eyeing her as she flashed in and out of view.  

“The Phoenix Program is being cut,” he spat out. As he said it he stuffed his face back into Beef’s back, making the dog yip and try to twist around. 

“Are you fucking serious!?” She yelled breathlessly. Her whole body tensed as she processed all that that could mean. 

The Z-Team could be getting promoted to actual heroes instead of reformed-villains. They could just be the last in the program; but she knew they hadn’t been doing that good lately. 

 Sure, they’d improved, but Flambae was still setting the occasional tree on fire and Prism would still blatantly refuse to go in dispatches, along with all the rest of the team’s shenanigans.  

“Disappear!” Robert hissed. She let out a loud, annoyed, grunt, took a puff from her inhaler again, then disappeared. Her throat burnt with the effort of holding her breath for so long while doing something so mundane. 

She supposed if Robert was making sure she wasn’t seen then there was more bad news to come. Or maybe he just wasn’t supposed to tell her yet and there would be a surprise promotion party. 

“Now I’m gonna have to cut the camera feed for out here,” he grumbled. Definitely not good then. Something like that from a dispatcher, Mecha Man or not, was grounds to be fired. Or maybe Mecha Man really was important enough to SDN to get away with anything.  

“Listen,” he started, voice firm again, if a little nervous. “There’s gonna be a meeting in about,” he checked his watch and let out a soft curse, “twenty minutes- shit.” He dragged a hand down his face. 

Courtney was starting to get really nervous now. She picked a handful of grass and started wrapping the blades around her fingers. She wasn’t the greatest with big time limits. 

“It won’t be long after that meeting that they’re gonna pick you all back up and- and put you back in jail,” he talked quickly, taking short breaths between each sentence. “I need you to get as many of the team ready and out of here by then.” 

Courtney stood abruptly. How in the world was she supposed to do that? Some of the team were still out on missions, and none of them but her and Coop were discreet enough to get out of SDN without being noticed; especially not now. 

“Listen, Visi.” Robert lowered his voice, though there weren’t anyone out there but them. Courtney sat back down on the curb, wringing her hands. 

“Once you get out don’t text or call me, don’t meet me in the open, don’t go anywhere near my apartment.” 

 It sounded almost like he was done with her. Her gut wrenched at the thought; after all the spouting about fate and potential he was letting them all get kicked to the curb. At least he was warning them, or trying too. 

“In three days, I want you to meet me at Crypto-Nite. I think I’ll be able to find a place to hideout by then, or at least get you guys something- and no I don’t want any of you to go out in the open, at all.” 

“That’s absurd!” She hissed, shimmering in and out of view just to snap it at him. He glared at her, but didn’t grumble anything else about the cameras. 

“I know- I’m sorry.” He checked his watch again, then stood. “I have to go back in.” He paused, glancing down to where she sat. He was surprisingly good at guessing where she was, it was a little unnerving sometimes. 

“If you can’t get anyone else out, go without them.” He said with a deep frown. Then he turned around, holding Beef tightly in his arms, and headed back to SDN.  

The sound of the door shutting behind him was overtaken by Courtney’s heaving breaths as she finally revealed herself. She coughed and sputtered and took frantic puffs from her inhaler. 

Once she felt like her lungs weren’t about to burst like balloons she put her hands over her face and let out a yell. She fall back onto the grass.  

“What the fuck?” She gasped, “what the fuck!?” Why would Robert ever trust her with this. He knew it was impossible to get any of them to listen on a good day, and this had to be becoming the worst day in the world by now. 

She had probably ten or fifteen minutes left before they were all going to the chopping block. She could hardly process it, Phoenix program was being cut, just like that? 

Some of SDN’s best heroes and dispatchers are reformed villains. Hell, even Royd was a criminal before the Phoenix program took him in, and look at him now; he’s just about the nicest and most competent guy in the building. 

It was dumb and made her want to throw something or punch someone. Maybe next time she saw Robert she’d properly vent her frustrations. 

If she saw him at all after today. She could just as easily be caught and thrown in jail with the rest of the team, especially if she was trying to get them out instead of saving her own skin. 

She let her hands fall, stretching her arms out in the grass. What was she supposed to do? She could slip out easily, but everyone else was either too flashy or too slow to make it even a block away before getting caught. 

Suddenly, a large shadow fell over her, blocking out the sky above her. She blinked up at the giant form above her. 

“Are you okay?” Golem asked cautiously. 

“Dude.” She covered her eyes, throwing her arm over her face, “we’re so fucked.” 

When I first started writing this I was on like ep 2 so I had no idea how most of everyone's character was… but now I think I've got it figured out enough to practice with :)

I kinda made this more descriptive than it needed to be, but I've been trying to write with a more show-don't-tell style lately so I thought it might fic with dispatch and its kind of vibes

anyways these guys have captivated me and stolen my heart and my brain couldn't help but come up with an idea

love ya'll, I'll try to reply to as many comments as I can (might take a minute tho) <3

[sadiewritingco]

All the Noise, All the Voices - Chapter 8 

Summary - Slade gets Adrian's help on a job as the 11th Street Kids fight to catch up with their missing teammate

Chapter - 8/?       Chapter Word Count  - 3,639/? 

Chp 1 – Prev - Next  

AO3 

so sorry this one took so long! I really just hadn't felt like writing much of it lol… I have so many ideas bouncing around it's difficult to sit down and finish this! but don't worry- only one more after this chapter and I'm sure posting this will get me into it a bit more

anyways, there are some bits that are little headcanon heavy… mainly with Adrian- you'll be able to tell lol

but also I feel like I've gotten so much better at writing him after the last one so that's made things a lot easier than it would be

love ya'll so much, please enjoy <3

Adrian stepped out of the car into the soft, dewy grass, sore from the long car ride and for the few hours they sat afterwards. He reached back in and grabbed his mask, having already put on the rest of his armor. He pulled the mask over his face, plunging the word into a deep, wine-red hue. 

Slade walked around the car. He opened the back and grabbed a large rifle. There was a loud click as he loaded it. He then pulled a pack over his shoulder. 

Carrying the rifle like a toy soldier, Slade headed towards the large compound the two had stopped at. Vigilante followed quietly. 

Slade hadn’t explained much. He just said that he had been hired to clear out this place and blow it to pieces while he was in Evergreen. Adrian had never heard of the company before that the place was owned by; it left a sour taste in his mouth, not knowing who they were or what they did. 

He glanced back at their parked car, parked alone in a large field behind the building. The moon haloed behind it. He had left his phone inside, though he wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. Even so, he had to resist the urge to run back. 

Slade whistled, low and long, and Vigilante whipped his head back around. Slade was looking back at him, a dubious expression on his face. He raised his hand and motioned as if he were patting the air; he was telling Vigilante to get down. 

They both crouched down on top of a hill overlooking the building. Slade took out a scope from a sniper rifle and used it to scout out the place. 

Vigilante hoped this wouldn’t be another stakeout. He was tired of having to sit around and wait for something to happen. He didn’t want to sit with nothing but his thoughts either. There was too much going on in his head and he’d much rather deal with the excitement and focus of killing than whatever other thoughts flowed through him. 

Slade slipped the pack off his shoulder. He unzipped it and pulled the sections apart to grab something from inside. He held up a fairly large device with vials of liquid in different sections. 

“Cefanolol?” Vigilante muttered, recognizing the substances inside the vials. Vigilante had invented the explosive liquid forever ago, but he had never had the resources to remake it when he went back to Evergreen. Slade had told him to keep it on the down low anyway. 

“I’ve been improving on your recipe.” Slade smiled devilishly. “They’re more stable and do more damage.” 

“How many labs did you blow up trying to figure that out?” Vigilante teased. Just making the original stuff had cost Slade an entire hide out and a half.  He had then banned Vigilante from messing around with dangerous chemicals from there on, even though Vigilante had found results. 

For a fleeting moment, Vigilante wondered if he could’ve become a chemist if he had never been motivated to fight crime. But it wasn’t worth dwelling on now. 

“Anyway,” Slade started, grabbing a large, rolled paper from the pack and laying it out in the grass. Vigilante scrunched up his nose as little spots appeared on the paper from the wet grass. 

“My contact gave me the blueprints for the building and there are four structural weak spots.” He pointed to a few parts on said blueprints. “I need you to set these at those places while I take out anyone who gets in our way.” 

Vigilante looked over the map. He glanced at the building again. Light flowed onto the parking lot as the door opened. Two people clad in white lab coats walked out and headed to their cars. 

“What did they do?” He asked as he watched the two walk to their cars. 

“Hmm?” Slade hummed. He was rummaging through the pack again, making sure they had everything they needed. 

“How did they break the law?” Vigilante clarified, turning back to Slade. Slade’s steady hands didn’t falter as he pressed a few buttons on one of the charges. 

“They didn't.” He shrugged. 

Vigilante pressed his lips together. His fingers scratched across his armor as he tried to grip the fabric of his pants. 

“So,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “why are we… killing them?” He asked hesitantly.  

Slade stopped then. He looked at Adrian with an unimpressed expression.  

“Because we’re being paid to.” He stared at Adrian, and he wished Slade had put his mask on already. Adrian looked back down at the two people in the parking lot. One had made it to their car and had gotten in, but they were just sitting there with the car on. 

“Hey.” Slade snapped his fingers to get Adrian’s attention again. He pointed down to the one still walking across the parking lot. “I bet you that lady doesn’t pay her parking tickets. She looks like a litterer too.” He looked dubious as he said it. 

“And that guy.” He pointed to the one in their car. “He probably doesn’t pick up his dog’s shit.” 

Adrian wasn’t very convinced. He would admit, he enjoyed killing people and often looked for opportunities to do so. But he also had a strict code about it, even if it wasn’t necessarily moral. They had to be criminals, and he had to be sure about it. Killing someone who hadn’t done anything wrong at all left a bad taste in his mouth; it even made him feel guilty, sometimes. 

“Adrian,” Slade put his hand on Adrian’s shoulder and gripped it tightly. Adrian looked at him with a frown. “We have no idea what those doctors are doing in that building, but I doubt it's anything legal. For all we know, they could be experimenting on some innocent little animals.” 

Adrian swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn’t sore anymore; he had taken a nap on the car ride, but his voice was still a little raspy. It was always the little things that stayed longer. 

Adrian looked down at the charge in front of his knees. He grabbed the large device, his gloved thumb gliding over the curved metal. Slade always knew how to get Adrian to do what he wanted. 

“Alright.” He nodded, fixing Slade with a firm and determined look. 

“Good. Now, let’s find a way in there and have some fun.” He smiled a toothy grin. Slade finally pulled his mask over his face. 

---

Chris sat in the back of the van, his leg bouncing. He had rechecked his guns about five times, and then another five after too long of nothing to do but think. Adebayo had been giving him glances that only made his nerves worse. 

It didn’t help that he hadn’t even put his Peacemaker uniform on. He longed for the familiar, colorful fabric, but at the same time wearing it for this made him feel sick. He told himself to ignore it and go back to his guns. 

The rest of the 11th Street Kids had tracked where Adrian and Slade had gone. John had been able to call him, and even though he didn’t answer, was able to track his phone. 

The bad part was that Adrian was nearly a day’s drive away. Chris didn’t know how long he’d been driving or where he had needed to go. Either way, they were far behind, and if they didn’t get there soon, Adrian might be already gone again. 

It made his stomach churn. He didn’t think Adrian had ever left town, at least not while Chris was around. To think that he might leave forever was almost unimaginable. He couldn’t let that happen. 

Chris looked at the time on his phone, 5:00 p.m. They had another five hours before they could make it to where Adrian was headed. They could half that time if they broke about a million road laws, but then they risked getting pulled over and investigated. 

Chris grabbed a pistol to dissemble and reassemble again, starting his sixth run of the routine in the two hours they’d been driving. 

---

Harcourt had run over her plan as many times as one could in two hours. She kept on getting distracted by the clicking and clattering of Chris going through their entire arsenal in the back. She had resisted the urge to snap at him. She understood that they were all on edge, and they all handled that in their own ways; even if Chris was being a little obnoxious about it. 

She tried to tell herself that it just meant Chris cared, and Adrian actually might have something worth coming back to. She knew they had treated him less than well; they made fun of him to his face and never bothered to understand him.  

She honestly wasn’t too surprised he had run off with Slade. She would even be proud if Slade wasn’t a manipulative shit using Adrian for his own gain. 

Adrian had grown a spine against those who hurt him, but that wouldn’t do a damned thing if he didn’t know that he was being hurt. 

She hated stepping in like this for someone else’s personal problems. But she would admit it; she cared about Adrian more than she should. And he was a part of her team, even if it wasn’t entirely official enough to get him good pay yet. That would be one of the first things she would do when they got him back, then he could finally quit his shitty job at the knock-off Olive Garden. 

She took in a deep breath and leaned back against her seat. She held it for a moment, then released the breath into as quiet a sigh as possible. She went over her plan again, looking for the flaws she might have missed before, as she lazily gazed out the windshield. 

She and Adebayo would go in and find Adrian at the compound they tracked his phone too. John had done some digging and found it was some lab for a big company that Harcourt couldn’t care to learn much else about. John then found out that their greatest competitor had a history of hiring mercenaries like Slade to get rid of the competition. 

She couldn’t care less about the politics of investments and all the like, but knowing that Slade had been here for a job, and took the opportunity to torment her team as a bonus, made her skin crawl and her rage boil. 

While Adebayo was inside looking for Adrian, Harcourt would find Slade and flush him outside, where Chris would be waiting. She knew he was planning on killing Slade, she was entertaining the idea herself. 

 It would cause a new wave of problems; Adrian would probably be devastated. It was tactically idiotic. But Chris was nothing if not an idiot, and Harcourt had her fair share of dull moments. 

No matter the consequences, she wanted Slade away from her team. She trusted Chris to make sure that was a guarantee. 

She glanced back to the man; he was going over his guns again. Adebayo caught her eye and gave her a worried look. Harcourt could only shrug. This was more personal for Chris than it was for any of them; even if they all cared for Adrian, no one could beat Chris’ quiet pining. 

Emilia just hoped that Chris’ nerves and feelings wouldn’t lead to foolish mistakes. 

---

Vigilante was almost asleep, laying face up in the grass with his hands folded over his chest, when Deathstroke nudged his shoulder. Vigilante sat up dutifully as Deathstroke got their supplies and stood. 

“Time to go,” Slade declared, causing Vigilante’s heart to speed up with both excitement and apprehension. He got to his feet quickly. 

Deathstroke tossed the pack filled with explosives at Vigilante’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around the pack. He adjusted it in his grip before pulling it over his shoulder. 

Deathstroke was already halfway down the hill, and Vigilante stumbled to keep up, trying not to fall. 

Adrian thought of one of the few people they’d ever sold Cefanolol to; he thought about the old camera tape of the place the man had tried to bomb, and how when he tripped blood and viscera splattered over the camera and the feed was cut. 

For a dark moment where a scorpion crawled out from its den, Adrian wondered why Slade wanted him to handle it. He knew how to handle the stuff, probably better than anyone, but Slade knew how to handle almost every explosive on the earth. 

How much had Slade really improved the stability of the liquid? 

Before the scorpions could dig their claws in his brain anymore, Vigilante caught up to Deathstroke. He was crouching in front of a red exit door. There was an open key-panel in front of his face, and he had stuffed tweezers into the wires. 

“How high-tech is this place?” Vigilante whispered, looking up at the giant building before him. It felt like the walls went up forever. There had to be at least twenty floors, and who knew how many were below ground. 

“Not high-tech enough to get past a tiny lockpick,” Deathstroke huffed, standing up straight. He pushed the door open and slipped inside. Vigilante followed without another word. 

He blinked to adjust to the new, sterile lighting. It was like being in a hospital. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a reflective white; it almost felt like they were glowing, as the lights were just as bright. 

Vigilante glanced at Deathstroke. The other man seemed just as taken off guard. It wasn’t a comforting discovery. 

Despite this, the mercenary strode forwards quickly and quietly down the empty hall. Vigilante followed, as he always did. The faint echoing and the huffing of their breaths were the only sound throughout the halls. 

Deathstroke had explained before that most people aside from a few guards should have left the facility by now, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be cautious. They had mufflers on their guns and were more likely to forgo the firearms altogether in favor of blades. 

Deathstroke stopped at a turn; his back pressed against the wall as he peeked around the corner. He turned back to Vigilante and pressed a finger over where his mask covered his mouth. Vigilante nodded. 

He watched as Deathstroke grabbed a throwing knife from its holster. He held it between his index and middle fingers by the blade. Then, he jumped around the corner and flung it forward. 

Vigilante heard a shout that was cut abruptly. There was then a heavy thud against the floor. He thought he could even feel the impact through his feet. 

He got out of his cover and saw a security guard’s bleeding corpse face-first on the ground. There was a steady puddle of blood pooling out from the wound in his neck. 

A shiver ran down Vigilante’s spine as he stepped over the body. He thought about how much of a pain that must be to clean, then thought about how that wouldn’t be his or anyone else’s problem once they were done with their mission. 

“Charge here.” Deathstroke pointed to the door the guard had stood vigil in front of. 

Vigilante shucked the pack of his shoulder and grabbed one of the charges. He was gentle with the device as he placed it against the door. He watched the sloshing liquid inside the vial with bated breath. 

He pressed a sequence of buttons, red three times, blue four, red one more time. Then he grabbed a detonator from the pack and held down a button on the side of the cylindrical device at the same time he held down a green button on the charge. There was a shrill beep from both devices, and he knew they were synced. 

Deathstroke had gone over this a million times. Vigilante had then gone it over in his head for the hour or so that they waited at the top of the hill. One wrong button could mean the end of Vigilante’s crime fighting career, or just his living career in general. 

He didn’t want to test his healing factor that badly. 

---

Economos stopped the van in the parking lot of some corporation facility that Chris knew next to nothing about. It was far enough away from Evergreen for him to even know it existed. 

Now, it took up his entire vision and made his heart pound. Adrian was in there somewhere, with Slade in tow. 

They found Slade’s car, with some of Adrian’s things inside. His phone was there, as well as the pajamas he had worn at Chris’ trailer, meaning he had likely changed into his suit with the usual dark shirt and tank top underneath. 

Chris stared down at the passenger seat, his hand on the car door and holding it open. He heard the trunk slam to his left and turned to see Harcourt shaking her head and walking around towards him. 

“Slade’s got a damned arsenal back there,” She muttered. 

“Half of that’s probably V’s,” He added absently. Harcourt huffed. 

“Well, either way, it means he doesn’t have it on him, and it’s worth it for him to get back to this car.” She looked over the hill to the top half of the compound. She and Chris had gone to find some actual evidence of their missing team member while Ads and Economos stayed in the van. 

“I need you to stay here and ambush Slade when he does.” 

Chris blinked. He stared at Harcourt for a moment. His brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up as he processed what she just told him. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, voice harsh and loud. “V is in there with that- that manipulative shit- and you want me to just sit here and hope he comes back here?” He asked incredulously. 

“Yes.” Harcourt said simply, as if he had just asked her about the weather. “Chris, I can’t let Ads fight Slade alone, and you know John won’t be able to do a thing against him.” 

“Well- what about you?” 

She was silent for a moment, then her shoulders fell with a loud sigh. 

“I can’t let you go in there alone either.” She held up a hand when he tried to object. “I know you love him, but Slade’s got a tight hold on Adrian, and your too brash for something like this.” 

Chris blinked. 

“I’m not brash,” he retorted with a scrunched nose. He wouldn’t get into that first part of her sentence; introspection on it was all fine and good, but he was nowhere near ready to talk about that with anyone other than his own thoughts. 

Harcourt put a hand on her hip and raised a brow. She held a hand up and started counting off her fingers. 

“You started shooting immediately at the rebel camp in Maltese.” Chris winced. She raised another finger, “you didn’t bother telling Ads you have an X-ray vision helmet when going to the bottling plant.” He smiled a little at that one. 

“But that was funny,” He reasoned without hesitation. 

“Chris.” 

“Okay- so I’m brash! But I’m still not just sitting here while V is in that place alone with Slade.” He threw his hands in the air. He stood strongly in this matter and doubted any amount of convincing would get him to just stay at the car. 

“Chris.” Harcourt stopped with a sigh. She looked down at the ground and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Chris pressed his lips together in a thin line as a bit of hope sweltered in his chest. 

She always got tired and annoyed like this when she was ready to crack. He watched with squinted eyes as she took another deep breath and looked back at Chris intently. 

“You’re staying here,” she said, dashing Chris’ hopes of doing this the easy way. “we’re going to go back to the van and gear up more, and then you’re going to come back here and block Slade from any escape, and Ads and I will go inside and get Adrian.” 

Chris didn’t say anything for a time until he pleaded with her one more time; “Please, Em, I need to do this.” He looked at her desperately.  

“Chris, I need you to understand what I’m giving you with this.” Chris glanced away. She wasn’t giving him anything but stress and anxiety. How could she ever expect him to stay here while Adrian could be in who knows what kind of danger. 

“You’ll be able to take care of Slade, by yourself, by whatever means necessary.” She finished with great weight. 

Chris didn’t look at her. He looked back to the large concrete, nearly windowless, building; where Adrian was somewhere inside, hiding in long corridors and probably leaving a trial of bodies behind him. 

Chris then looked to the ground, where wet grass was dampening the soles of his shoes. His normal, everyday shoes, because he wasn’t Peacemaker right now. Adrian deserved better than Peacemaker. 

Adrian deserved better than someone who just followed orders. 

“Okay.” Chris followed Harcourt back to the van. He rechecked his guns for the thirty-sixth time since they hit the road. 

When Harcourt was going over her plan again with Adebayo, Chris was near the back of the open van, the cold air of the night mixing with the warm, artificial temperature of the van. 

Chris took a few steps back, watching the others. He let the cold air of the night engulf him, then turned and ran. 

His feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, and it wasn’t long before he reached a door with a cut open keypad. 

Adrian is smart and was a chemistry kid and I will die on this hill!!!

also the compound place is very inspired by the lab in Stranger Things… mainly because I just finished the first season for the first time! it was pretty good and made me cry when there were the flashbacks of Hopper's daughter (also that one cop reminds me of Adrian and looks kinda like him so yes I'm staying obsessed though that :D)

I'm sure you guys got the foreshadowing in this one (if not no worries it just felt obvious to me… but I also know what's going to happen so…)

anyways… not much to say other than prepare for WHUMP next chapter :]

love you guys so much!!

[sadiewritingco]

All the Noise, All the Voices - Chapter 7

Summary - Chris and Adrian have a heart-to-heart

New Tags - Father Figures, but Like a Bad One, Daddy Issues *new tags may not be featured in this chapter but do apply to the whole fic* 

Chapter - 7/?       Chapter Word Count  - 3,065/? 

Chp 1 – Prev - Next  

AO3 

heads up I added a tiny bit to the last chapter, literally one piece of dialogue but I couldn't get it out of my head… It's in the middle of those paragraphs that have back and forth POVs during one of Adrian's (not on the tumblr post just AO3... sorry)

guys I figured out how to write Adrian… like yeah I was writing him before but now I am WRITING him

so now I know why the majority of this fic felt a little icky to me- I was still figuring out how to write the characters! lol

so yeah this one kinda got a little carried away, I know it's still only 3k words but I think I was possessed by Apollo during this first scene

anyways, love ya'll so much! Please enjoy <3

Chris led Adrian into his trailer quickly. The latter turned around and waved weakly to Adebayo as she watched them from her car. She waved back with a small smile that he could hardly see in the combined darkness and blurriness of his vision. 

Then the door shut, and the two men were alone. Chris dropped Adrian’s hand abruptly and moved to sit on the couch. Adrian grabbed his hand; the same Chris was holding and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. 

He didn’t think Chris had ever held onto him for so long. It felt weird. He hated it when people touched him gently like that, but it wasn’t horrible this time. 

Adrian glanced out the window as he saw Ads’ car retreating down the road. He watched as the taillight disappeared behind a turn. He frowned as he turned around. 

“You wanna sit down?” Chris asked quietly. He wasn’t looking at Adrian, which usually meant he was in a weird mood that Adrian couldn’t hope to understand. 

He pressed his lips together and stuck his thumbnail into his hand for a moment; it left a small indent once he let go of his hand. He walked unsteadily to the couch, his legs weak for reasons he couldn’t say. 

Chris was staring at the ground when Adrian sat down next to him. Usually, he would press himself against the other man, but this time Adrian wanted some distance. Or he wanted Chris to bridge that gap. 

He leaned back into the couch cushions as the silence between them prolonged. The drowsiness from his earlier sleep crept up on him, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes. 

He knew his body wanted to heal the bruise that had already formed around his neck, but the bruise that was very visible to anyone with eyes. However, it was always the inconvenient and relatively harmless things that took forever to be fixed. 

Not opening his eyes, he sunk lower onto the couch, hoping Chris decided to never look at him again. His neck felt hot as he continued to think about it. He resisted the urge to put his hands around his neck to hide it; that would just make it more obvious. 

“Why did you lie?” Chris asked suddenly. 

Adrian blinked awake again. His eyes felt nearly glued shut. He wished he could wash his face or something. 

He sat up again, refusing to glance at Chris as he too adopted the tactic of staring at the ground. He shrugged. 

“I thought it’d be easier.” He spoke quietly, hoping that the rasp in his voice wouldn’t be heard.  

“Why?” Chris asked after. It was weird that he was asking so many questions while Adrian had barely uttered a word. Usually, it was the other way around; that, or Adrian would be rattling on about some topic that Chris would yell at him to shut up about. 

“If I told you I was busy, you’d stop worrying about Slade. I wouldn’t have to struggle to find time for both of you.” He sat up again as he said it, readjusting to be a bit more comfortable. He leaned his head back against the cushion and gazed tiredly at the ceiling instead of the dirty floor and his old shoes. 

They fell silent again. This time it made Adrian feel too aware of Chris next to him. The skin near the other man felt hot like he had been pressed up against him for hours. He was choking on the silence. He’d been doing a lot of choking lately. 

Then he felt Chris sit up. He had hardly moved at all while they were talking aside from shaking his head a couple times. The man blew out a rough sigh that devolved into a weak whistle that made Adrian’s ears sing. 

“I think I worried about you all day.” Chris admitted. He turned to finally look at Adrian. 

He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a light touch against his neck, just Chris’ thumb grazing gently across the skin. It made him flinch. 

“I thought this healed already?” Chris said. It sounded like a statement and a question at the same time. Adrian didn’t know if he wanted him to say anything, so he didn’t. 

Chris let his hand drop and there was another silence. Adria was starting to hate it. He wished Chris would just get out what he wanted to say and be done with it. 

“Adrian? Will you look at me?” He shook his head quickly and shut his eyes tightly.  

“Please?” Chris tried again. Then, when he was met with another unsatisfactory answer, he grabbed Adrian himself and pulled him close. 

Adrian sucked in a breath and put his hands against Chris’ stomach and back, his fingers digging slightly into his shirt. The side of his head was pressed against Chris’ chest. He stared ahead and where Chris’ bicep was covering his eyes; not on purpose, he didn’t think. It was just how he was holding him. 

And he was holding him. Christopher Smith was holding onto Adrian Chase. It made his lips tremble, and his breath shortened more than it already had. 

It was the best and worst feeling ever. It was firm, but too gentle. He could leave if he wanted, but he knew Chris didn’t want him to. It was overwhelming in the best kind of way. 

Then Chris dragged his fingernails over Adrian’s back. It made him shiver in what he thought might have been a good way, but it was the tipping point. 

He sucked in a tight breath and released it as a wet sob. He gripped onto Chris’ shirt tightly, stretching the fabric as he pulled to somehow get closer. And Chris held him tighter, tight enough that he wondered if he could get air in his lungs. It was amazing. He wanted to crawl under Chris’ skin and stay there forever. 

Tears were falling down his face and onto Chris’ clothes. He felt bad about that as snot got on Chris’ arm too. Instead of apologizing, he sucked in another breath, coughed, and sobbed. 

The pattern repeated for a long enough time for Adrian to feel disgusting and awkward. He didn’t understand all the sensations happening, inside and out. He was feeling things, weird things that he couldn’t describe in the same way normal people. It was all too physical. 

He pulled away, he forced himself to. Chris let him go willingly but stared at him afterward. It made him ashamed of how horrible he must look. 

He wiped at his face, really wishing he could wash it now. Actually, a full shower would be nice; or a bubble bath, that would be really nice. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning a million things at once. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Chris answered softly. He finally looked away and towards nothing in particular. It made Adrian’s chest a bit lighter. 

“No, about Slade.” He shrugged, needing to move or fidget but having no good outlet. “And lying.” He coughed. 

Chris looked at nothing for a long time and said nothing too. It made Adrian worry if he wasn’t supposed to be looking at Chris again either, so he stopped. He looked at the top of the couch cushion and started to pick at it. 

“You’re allowed to lie to me.” Adrian looked back at Chris, unable to help himself. There really wasn’t much else he’d rather look at. “I just wish it wasn’t about Slade. I don’t trust him, and I’m worried he’s hurting you, or manipulating you, or something!” He sighed harshly. 

Adrian couldn’t even argue for Slade this time. He had hurt him several times just in the past day. Even so, something Chris said made his nose scrunch and brow furrow. 

“I’m not a kid- he's not manipulating me.” He stared at Chris, directly in the eyes, as he spoke. 

“I didn’t say that-” 

“Do you still just see me as Gut’s little brother?” He didn’t know why he said it, or how he even came to the conclusion, but something about the way Chris’ face changed made him feel he might have been right. 

“I’m not the same naive, nasally, kid you and Gut pushed around,” he said harshly. 

“Adrian-” 

“You think I’m crazy.” He hugged his chest and pulled away when Chris reached a hand towards him. He looked away from Chris again, instead towards Eagly, sleeping soundly on his perch. “You think there’s something wrong with me.” Adrian’s voice broke. 

“Adrian please-” 

“Stop! Just stop!” Adrian yelled, much louder than he meant. Eagly squawked awake, wings flapping. at the loud noise. Adrian’s frown deepened. He still wouldn’t look at Chris. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered. “I don’t understand you, and I know I never will. I do think you’re crazy, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing, you don’t make it a bad thing.” 

“I don’t feel... cared about... around you guys,” Adrian said eventually, the puzzle pieces clicking together in his head. He knew the others all thought he was weird; he knew everyone thought that. He just thought that after long enough they’d be nicer about it, and he realized that in the near year they’d been a team, nothing has changed. 

Chris didn’t say anything after that. It made Adrian’s chest and stomach hurt. He stared at Chris with a frown, but the man only looked at the ground again. 

“They care,” he whispered, finally. Adrian blinked. 

“Do you?” 

Chris frowned. He shut his eyes tightly and clasped his hands together over his mouth and nose. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep, loud sigh. 

Adrian blinked again. Chris looked like he was almost struggling. How absurd would that be? He could help kill an entire army of aliens but couldn’t decide whether or not he cared about Adrian. 

Adrian looked away, because seeing Chris think about this so hard made him feel bad; he couldn’t tell if it was for himself or for Chris, but either were bad. He dug his fingernails into his pants, lacking anything else to do with his hands. 

He wished he had a knife, or one of those fidget toys his mom got him after she caught him twirling knives around his fingers. Those were always fun, not quite as fun as knives, but fun. 

“I do.” Adrian looked back at Chris. His mind ran too far away; he nearly forgot what they were talking about. 

Chris was looking at him now, staring into his eyes in that way that usually made Adrian shrink away. He would have if it were anyone else. Adrian pressed his lips together. That hurt feeling in his chest hadn’t gone away, even though he heard what he wanted to hear. 

“Okay.” He looked at the floor again. 

“Okay?” Chris repeated in a voice Adrian know quite as well. It was close to when he was angry but gentler. 

“Okay.” Adrian repeated with a shrug. He bit the inside of his cheek. The hurt still hadn’t left yet, even though they’d established that Chris and the others do care. It was like Adrian’s body had stopped listening to his brain. 

Then Chris put his hands on Adrian’s shoulders. He moved them to wrap around Adrian again and pulled him into another hug. This one was tighter, but it was worse than the first one. It made Adrian want to squirm away. 

“I care about you, V,” Chris whispered like a secret. “I swear I do.” 

This time Adrian didn’t say anything. It didn’t work last time, and somehow made things feel worse. So, Adrian didn’t say anything. 

He didn’t speak when Chris led him to his bed or invited him under to covers. He didn’t speak when Chris wrapped his arms around him and held so close it was difficult to breathe. He didn’t speak when Chris rolled onto his back, letting Adrian go, and started snoring. He didn’t speak when he got out of bed and opened the window. 

Adrian didn’t speak when he left. 

---

Chris woke up before the sun had risen. He was freezing, and the coveres were doing nothing to help him. He reached next to him, because he had somehow let go of Adrian in the middle of the night. 

His hand fell on a cold spot on the sheets. He groaned quietly, patting his hand against various spots of the bed. 

“V?” Chris muttered in a sleep-heavy voice. He groaned and sat up, throwing the covers off of him. He rubbed his arms as a shiver rolled over him. 

“Adrian?” Chris called again, louder this time. He peered into the hall, hoping that Adrian had just been unable to sleep, or had decided to sleep on the couch. 

He didn’t hope that. He wanted Adrian close to him; he never wanted to let Adrian go again. 

Then he saw the open window, letting all the cold air in and making him nearly freeze in his sleep. 

Chris thought his heart might have stopped right then and there. 

---

Adrian hadn’t gone back to Slade. He wandered around the streets all night long like a ghost with unfinished business. He had no destination in mind; he had nothing in mind at all. In fact, the entire goal was to shut his mind off for as long as possible. 

It didn’t help that the streets were nearly empty. And every neighborhood he passed. And the few bars that he went to. There was nothing happening, which made everything happen in his head. 

He felt like he couldn’t process his conversation with Peacemaker. It felt surreal. He cared about Adrian, which was the best news ever once he thought about it more, but it didn’t make him feel any better. 

He wanted to go home, and go back to Chris’, but there was something telling him he shouldn’t be at either places. He had thought about going to someone else, Adebayo, maybe, but he couldn’t seem to find his way. 

Eventually he came to an alleyway with a shadowed figure standing in the center. He tilted his head in interest, maybe tonight wouldn’t be so dull after all. 

He didn’t have any weapons on him; he was just in his pajamas. He would make do; he’d been in worse situations with less. At least he thought he had. 

Then the figure turned around, and Adrian’s shoulders slumped. For the millionth time in the past week, he wished he had his mask just to hide his expression a bit better. 

Adrian Chase had not gone back to Slade, he was content to spend a few days away from him. Slade, however, had other plans. 

---

Chris found himself sitting on Harcourt’s bed once again. This time, he was lucky to not be getting chewed out by the woman. She was sitting next to him, with a similar look of dejection, just less obvious. 

He had caught her while she was still asleep, which would be the case for most people at this hour. The sun still wasn’t up in the time it took for him to run over to her apartment. He had run quickly in his panic, so he gave himself a bit of credit. 

“He went back to Slade?” She asked with a sigh. Chris had told her a decent amount of what happened earlier in the night, leaving out a few more intimate details. He could still hardly believe what he admitted to Adrian. 

It seemed like something so simple; all he did was say that he cared about Adrian. But even Chris, the emotional blockhead that he was, could understand that it was more than just caring. He couldn’t for the life of him name it; calling it love or affection, maybe even devotion, felt wrong. It didn’t feel like any of those, but at the same time it felt like all of them combined. 

It made him doubt so much about himself. He didn’t care that Adrian was a man, he’d moved past that issue sometime in high school when he would sneak out with whichever rebellious boy was feeling bi-curious that week. 

Maybe it was the fact that it was Adrian. He was weird, and psychotic, and had admitted so many times that he didn’t do feelings. But at the same time Chris really couldn’t imagine him feeling whatever this is with anyone else anymore. 

“Yeah,” Chris grumbled after he realized Harcourt had actually asked him something. “I don’t know where else he’d go.”  

A part of Chris was mad at himself for getting into feelings talk with Adrian. It was supposed to be him convincing Adrian that Slade was bad for him, then it just escalated. 

“Okay.” Harcourt put her head in her hands. After a moment she sat up straighter. Chris looked at her miserably. “I’m holding Butterfly Cleanup,” She declared. “Task Force X’s main objective is to find Adrian and Slade and separate them, then do whatever it takes for Slade to leave.” 

Chris stared at her for a moment, the gears turning in his head. 

“Whatever it takes?” He asked. 

“Chris.” She closed her eyes, took in a breath, and stared at him with just as much intensity. “He hurt one of my team members. I want him gone. Take whatever meaning from that you want.” 

---

“How far is this place?” Adrian asked. He had his forehead pressed against the car window. He watched the passing building and car, his eyes following their red taillights until they were out of view. 

“A few hours.” Slade answered. 

Adrian blinked slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment. His throat still hurt; he hadn’t slept enough. His chest was still hurting too, but that was from something he knew his body couldn’t fix on its own. 

“After we do this,” Slade continued, “I’m thinking you could come with me to Jump City, help out with a few problems I’ve had there.” 

Adrian adjusted in his seat, sitting up and glancing at Slade. He was looking straight ahead at the road, both hands on the wheel. There was a small smile on his face. 

Adrian swallowed, closed his eyes, and sat back against the car seat. 

“Sounds good.” He said hoarsely. The panging in his chest worsened with each beat of his heart. 

if anyone was wondering Driving With My Darling by And One was stuck in my head (Super good band love their music! even though most of it isn't on spotify where I'm at) during that last scene

so yeah that conversation was really something, huh? fun fact, there was going to be more of them actually talking about Slade but then it felt unfair to have that because it was supposed to be a conversation about THEM!! You can see that Chris regrets this lol

At this point I'd say that Slade kind of seems like that ex you can't stop from coming back to, even if you really don't mean to and aren't the first to reach out… (though more of a father figure than an ex lol)

also little life update… I got glasses! it feels really weird… but whatever I'm gonna try to wear them because I do NOT want to wear contacts… they seem so icky :(

hopefully I'll finish this fic next chapter… no idea how long it'll take or if it'll even be the last chapter… we'll figure things out as we go!

[sadiewritingco]

All the Noise, All the Voices - Chapter 6

Summary - Chris spends his day worrying about Adrian and Slade, eventually bringing him to try and catch Adrian at work.

Chapter - 6/?       Chapter  Word Count  - 3,325/? 

Chp 1 – Prev - Next  

AO3 

so, that finale, huh? lowkey I liked it, but the whole pacing of the season was messed up, and the cliffhanger wasn't fun :/

also since I was away from home all weekend I wrote most of this on my phone, so sorry for any typos

please enjoy <3

Chris sat sprawled on the couch, his feet up atop the coffee table. Eagly was chittering on his post, pruning his feathers after their morning walk/flight. 

Chris was holding up his phone in one hand, the screen showing Adrian’s contact and the last text conversation they had, his thumb was hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to say something to him, but his mind was coming up completely blank. 

It was early anyway, Eagly had waken Chris up at 6:00 a.m. and he’d been unable to go back to sleep after an hour of tossing and turning in his bed. He at least hoped that Adrian was still sleeping and, subsequently, healing. 

Chris could probably head over to the video store and catch Adrian as he was leaving. But seeing him in person felt like a confrontation he wasn’t ready for yet; he could hardly manage a text. 

After another moment of contemplation, he changed to Adebayo’s contact and sent her a quick plea of what to do. He knew she was probably angry with him; the whole gang probably was. He also knew that Ad’s would never leave him behind like that, though. 

He wasn’t expecting an answer for a while, they would all be tired after such a long night. 

He shut off his phone and let it fall onto the cushion beside him. He then got up and started making a small breakfast. 

Eagly chittered and flew into the counter, beak clacking as he reached for the contents of the opened fridge. 

“Hey- no!” Chris said sternly, pointing a finger at Eagly as the bird leaned back with his wings outstretched. “I’ll get something later.” He promised, carefully patting Eagly’s head. 

“You’re being such a nuisance today, you know?” He said as Eagly flew off and went back to his perch. The bird gave one loud screech to voice his own disdain before settling. 

Before Chris could get back to work on food, his phone pinged. With more enthusiasm than should be necessary, he rushed over to it and checked the notification. 

Surprisingly, it was from Adrian, which made his stomach do a weird thing that made him want to vomit for a few seconds. However, he had just texted the group chat that he would be busy with work and unavailable. 

Chris frowned. First of all, Adrian should still be asleep; second, he shouldn’t be even thinking about his job at a knock-off Olive Garden; third, he has never once allowed his job to interfere with anything crime-fighting related. 

So, of course, the logical decision for Chris was to immediately text Adrian and tell him as much. Which, Adrian somehow had answers to all three of those concerns.  

Dude you have no idea how fast I heal that was like just a paper cut! 

Chris groaned, running a hand down his face. 

And Dave texted me at like 5 am about a bunch of people calling-out last minute… and my job is my responsibility I can’t just leave them hanging like that! The service industry is a nightmare beyond your comprehension it’d be like I deserting the army if I didn’t come in! 

“What the hell…” Chris mumbled tiredly, staring at the long line of text.  

Also it’ll take Economos a few days to go over all that new data didn’t he find a whole computer of stuff?? 

Dude. Do you know what commas are? I had a stroke reading all that. Chris replied once there was a moment to breathe between texts. 

🧜‍ 

Chris should’ve expected that reply, he was honestly surprised it hadn’t come up sooner. It’d been a while since he’d gotten a Vigilante Word Vomit (text vomit?) and he’d forgotten how jumpy they could be. At least he didn’t misspell anything. 

Chris could just imagine Adrian typing away, his thoughts jumping from one topic to the next. He chuckled lightly at the thought of. He could bet that Adrian was squinting down at the phone too. 

Chris got comfortable again on the couch, his chest feeling much lighter. His thumbs tapped quickly against the screen as he tried to continue the conversation. 

Adrian didn’t seem mad at him. Though, Chris could hardly remember time he ever was seriously mad. Even after the torture thing he didn’t seem too mad, more annoyed and hurt than mad. That wasn’t much better, but hurt was easier to fix than anger. 

If they could get to a normal conversation again, it’d be much easier to apologize. Usually, Chris would make out that since they were acting normal there was no need to apologize at all, but even he could admit that he went overboard. 

It was something about Slade, how smug he always was, that just made Chris angry. And the way that Adrian seemed to worship him and look at him the way that he only ever looked at Chris before. It got under his skin in a way he wouldn’t like to admit. 

Wanna come over when you’re done? I got a new toaster and haven’t thrown out the old one yet 

That would be good. The usual blow shit up in the woods to prepare yourself to talk about feelings schtick. It’d worked before when Chris was all mopey after getting back from the hospital, why shouldn’t it now?  

Chris pointedly did not think about the fact that Slade and Adrian had just been training in those woods. Actual training too; it seemed absurd. Did Adrian train? He’d never mentioned it before. Chris just assumed he stayed good at all the shit he can do by using it in the field. Chris would’ve found him before if he used the woods like he did with Slade, right? 

The vibrating of his phone distracted Chris from his worries. He checked Adrian’s answer with a smile, though it fell quickly. 

Maybe 

Maybe? What did he mean maybe? Adrian had never hesitated to refuse hanging out, let alone blowing stuff up, with Chris. 

Other than when Slade was there. 

Gritting his teeth, Chris changed to Harcourt’s contact. He saw the long, unbroken list of texts he had sent before he finally accepted that she wasn’t into him. His thumbs tapped away to add one more, short text to the list.  

We need to get rid of Slade. 

---

Vigilante and Deathstroke were fighting. Their swords clashed and scraped against the other with each blow. 

They were in an abandoned parking garage, one that gangs used to hang out in and smoke weed before they were finally cleared out by Vigilante and Peacemaker.  

He loved that mission. It started as a stake-out, which were honestly his favorite kinds of missions; they made his heartbeat rapidly and his hands shake as adrenaline rushed through him while he waited to finally catch someone doing something illegal. Then, the two heroes had rushed in, guns blazing, and the place was cleared in minutes.  

Sure, he might’ve gotten shot, but Peacemaker had frantically tended to the wound afterwards. He had shown a level of care that Vigilante didn’t think he’d seen since. Plus, Vigilante had even got to cut someone’s arm off when he ran out of ammo. 

The place had intrigued him too, and he went back a week later. It was private and quiet, and people only ever used the bottom floor when someone actually used the place. 

He had set up a few things there, a place to do the parts of Vigilante work that wouldn’t fit in his basement. And now, it served as the perfect place for him and Deathstroke to duel. 

They had been at it for hours, it was now midday, and Vigilante could hear the honking of horns and chattering of people along with the clashing of metal blades. 

He had managed a few good hits in in Deathstroke. He knocked a shoulder piece of his armor loose and nearly cut his arm off a few fights later. 

Of course, Deathstroke was just as ruthless. He’d hit Vigilante’s leg with the hilt of his sword, making it swish in a painful way for a moment that left him open for a slash across the chest. He’d also almost gotten Vigilante’s mask; there was a nick on the visor that was distracting him. 

In their current fight, Vigilante had just spun out of the way of a quick jab. He managed to hit Deathstroke on the side of his head with the hilt of his sword, but it only distracted the mercenary for a moment. 

Deathstroke had grabbed onto Vigilante’s arm while the hero was so close and managed to pull him off balance. He slashed at Vigilante’s leg, one of his blades lodging into part of the hero’s armor. 

He then pulled the other blade up and tried to cut down Vigilante’s shoulder, but he twisted out of the way, knocking the first blade out if Deathstroke’s hand as it stayed stuck in his armor. 

He felt it dig into his skin and grimaced. He yanked it out, swiping the tip of the blade against the concrete ground as he righted his grip. 

Brandishing mis-matched swords and a slight limp, he rushed at Deathstroke, who raised his lone blade readily. 

---

Chris sat on Harcourt’s bed, eyes downcast as he fixed his gaze on the cheap rug. 

“Please tell me you’re lying,” Harcourt urged, tired apprehension in her voice. She was pinching the bridge of her nose at what Chris finally admitted to her. He shook his head silently. 

“Chris!” Adebayo scolded, “you made his stab wound so much worse with your outburst, and you’re telling us you were the one who told Slade about the mission in the first place?” She was motioning wildly as she spoke, arms flailing to get across her exasperation. 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“Yeah, well you fucking did!” Harcourt cut in. “You’ve been off your game ever since Slade showed up and we need you to focus.” She pointed at him harshly. His shoulders slumped impossibly more. 

He knew he was irrational about Slade, and he knew he really had no right to get so mad with Adrian. There wasn’t much to do about it now other than the wallowing that he was already in the middle of. 

“Slade’s bad news!” He tried, a bit of spark returning, “He’s doing something to Adrian- hurting him- manipulating him- I don’t know!” He flung his arms into the arm as his voice caught. He didn’t know what to say to convince them. 

He’d been waiting for this ‘meeting’ since this morning when he texted Harcourt. She had responded with a terse time to meet her. He had ample time to figure out his argument, but it was being thrown out the window as the two women ganged up on him. 

What had started out as a way to get Harcourt on board with letting him take out Slade or getting the mercenary to jump town, but now it almost felt more like an intervention. 

“I understand that you’re worried about V,” Harcourt started, her voice softening; though, there was still a large amount of annoyance. “But we can’t just rush in like that. It’s like what I told you last night: as long as Adrian’s wrapped around his thumb there’s nothing we can do.” She crossed her arms and took a step back, letting out a long breath. 

Chris couldn’t take that as an answer. Adrian was in some kind of danger, he knew it. He couldn’t just leave him to handle it himself. What kind of partner would he be if he did? 

“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” Harcourt said with a sigh. She patted Ads’ shoulder as she passed. The other woman nodded silently in understanding. 

Adebayo sat down next to Chris, who had turned his attention back down to the carpet with a deep-set frown. She put a hand on his back and started rubbing soothing circles along his back. 

“It’s tough,” She started. Chris huffed, no kidding. “But we have to trust Adrian.” She was leaning forward, trying to get in his line of sight. “He cares so much about you, Chris, and one little fight isn’t going to change that.” 

“I hurt him, Ads. And I feel like I’m letting Slade hurt him too,” Chris whispered, his hands clenching into tight fists. 

There was silence for a moment. A moment that allowed Chris to spiral in his head for much longer than was healthy. He couldn’t stop thinking about what could be going wrong while he’s not there. 

“He’s not with Slade right now. He told you he was at work, when has he ever lied?” 

“A lot, but he’s not good at it.” Chris smiled at the thought of all the times he tried to deny being Vigilante. 

“Exactly.” She hit his shoulder lightly. “He’s gonna be okay, and we’ll be there if he isn’t.” She paused, “Em’s already working on a way to get Slade out of town, she’s been obsessing over it.” 

“You have to trust us, Chris- you have to trust Adrian.” 

---

Adrian sat humming in his mom’s rocking chair. He was fixing a tear in his suit, sliding the needle in and out of the fabric smoothing. He had a dumb song stuck in his head but couldn’t for the life of him remember the words or name; just the melody. 

Chris got out of Adebayo’s car, slamming the door shut with more force than he meant. He mouthed a quick sorry before turning to face the small, old building that was Fennel Fields, the sign glowing in the starless night. 

The door behind him opened and shut with a click. Slade was a light sleeper; they both had that problem. He didn’t bother to acknowledge him, too busy with a stitch. 

The door opened with a chime. The building was mostly empty, it being a late enough for most people to be done with dinner by now. Still, someone yelled from the back that they’d be right with him. 

The needle poked into Adrian’s finger. He cursed as he jerked had hand away, dropping both the fabric and spilling to contents of his sowing kid. He sighed before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking at the wound, tasting the metallic tang of blood. 

“Hey, is Adrian here? I’m a friend of his.” Chris smiled at the young waitress. She pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. Chris grabbed at his hands, wringing his wrist as he waited for the waitress to answer. 

Adrian leaned down to pick everything up. He heard Slade walking up behind him and readied an excuse for him clumsiness. It was probably needlessly loud and annoyed the older man. 

“No, he went on vacation for- like the whole week.” She huffed. Chris blinked. He went on vacation? 

As Adrian turned his head to finally greet Slade, a manila folder slapped onto the floor next to his hand. He turned back and looked at it. His brow furrowed. Slade put his hands on Adrian’s shoulders as the younger man flipped it open. 

“Would you like a table, or were you just trying to find him?” The waitress asked, a smile plastered to her face. “You're sure he’s not here?” Chris asked desperately. “Pretty sure, he makes his presence known.” She grumbled. 

“Oh, this,” Adrian mumbled as he looked through the folder he thought he’d left in the van. Slade squeezed his shoulders. Adrian sat up again. “Yeah, it’s kinda crazy-” Slade wrapped his calloused hands around Adrian’s throat. 

Chris forced past the waitress, ignoring her protests as he made his way into the back. “Adrian!” he called, pushing open the door to the kitchen. He saw no sign of the man and made his way to the trash cans. He always went out to the trash cans late at night, to call someone when he’s about to be off work. He especially did it when he didn’t have a chance to talk to anyone during his break. 

Slade’s hands tightened on Adrian’s throat. He clawed at the man’s hands, blood dripping onto his wrists from his finger. He gagged as Slade squeezed again. 

Cold air whipped Chris’ face as he opened the doors to the back. He saw no immediate sign of Adrian, and hurried down the steps to the trash cans, skipping a few as he went. 

“You think you can hide something this big from me?” Slade growled in his ear, leaning in close. Adrian whimpered and shook his head as best he could. “How long have you known, you little shit?” Adrian tried to speak, but it came out as a gasping breath and a hiccup. 

He wasn’t there. Adrian really wasn’t there. 

Adrian’s fingernails dug into Slade’s skin. He was gasping and hiccupping. Tears and snot ran down his face. More darkness than that which belonged to the night crept into his vision. 

Chris ran back to Adebayo’s car, getting in quickly and slamming the door shut behind him. “What happened-” Drive, now!” He near screamed. “He wasn’t there- fuck! He wasn’t there, Ads!” 

Slade let go. Adrian slumped forward, grabbing and guarding his throat as he took in gulping breaths. It was like drinking a cold glass of water after a hot day. He tried to swallow the soreness in his throat. 

Adebayo was talking frantically to Harcourt through the phone. Chris couldn’t muster up a word. He stared out the window at the passing houses. They were in Adrian’s neighborhood. It was funny; he never knew Adrian still lived here. 

“Don’t ever lie to me again, boy.” Slade said, crouching down in front of Adrian and holding his hair. “Do you understand?” Adrian swallowed as Slade pulled his hair to make him nod. He hummed along, eyes squeezed shut. 

Before Adebayo even parked the car, he was out and running on the sidewalk. Rage and fear fueled his dash. He was mad that Adrian could ever lie to him like that, and he was terrified that Slade had free reign of him all day and no one knew. 

“Now, go get some sleep and heal.” Slade sneered. “I’ve got a job for you tomorrow night.” 

Chris kicked the door open. He rushed inside to find Slade sitting in an old rocking chair, sliding a stone across his katana. It scraped loudly and he slid it across slowly. 

“Peacemaker,” Slade sighed, “funny seeing you here.” He smiled that same smile that Chris loathed. 

“Where is he?” He snarled. 

“Sleeping.” 

Chris left to go to Adrian’s room. He knew where it was, unless he’d taken Gut’s old room since his brother moved out. 

Opening the door loudly and scanning the room, he saw a lump under the sheets. He rushed over, his heart doing a funny thing in his chest. He shook Adrian desperately to wake him. 

“V! Get up. Get up!” He urged as the other man groaned. 

“Wha?” Adrian grumbled. 

“Come on!” Chris ordered, pulling Adrian to sit up. “You’re staying with me in my trailer.” 

“Why?” Adrian mumbled, though he did get up and start getting dressed. “I can’t just leave-” 

“Please, Adrian!” Chris yelled. Adrian froze. “Please, just come with me.” He begged, hating how his voice cracked. 

Adrian stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Then, finally, he nodded slowly. 

“Okay,” He agreed. 

“Okay.” Chris grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room. He didn’t stop when Slade made his complaints. The old man could suck it; he was taking Adrian with him. They passed Adebayo as they went out the door; she stayed behind a moment to watch Slade. 

Chris opened the back door to Adebayo’s car. He guided Adrian into the back. He wasn’t sure why, but he got in the back with Adrian. He latched onto the other man’s hand again. 

No one said a word as Adebayo drove them all to Chris’ trailer. 

I was listening to Six Feet Under (the song that played before Adrian got tortured in S1) while writing that scene… it's my favorite on in the show (Monster is a close second)

so… yeah. this lowkey got a little out of hand is not how I had originally imagined the plot but whatever it writes itself now ig

also I had an idea for another fic! a vignette styled fic of Checkmate doing different cases, and I might start taking requests on tumblr when i do write it! so ya'll have something to look forward to when I'm done with this (plz don't flood my asks yet lol)

anyways, thank you so much for all the support last time! It reignited the spark for this fic I think! Also this one is getting pretty close t surpassing my most popular fic (it's one that I kinda hate now so that's a REALLY good thing lol)

love ya'll