OKAY PT. 3 TO ANGSTY ROBOTUS HEADCANON PT. 1 & PT. 2 I GUESS: what if you had died but only for a few minutes. Legally dead then resuscitated or just popped back up on your own moments after your heart stopped. And Robotus didn’t know. So you’re recovering in the medical ward of Cognito, doped up on painkillers and you keep asking for him and they can’t find him, he’s gone awol. Meanwhile he’s looking like an even grittier and unfunny/non-Canadian version of Deadpool with the blood and carnage soaking his clothes and the splatters dotting his still intact-silicate based cheek. Metal and flesh meeting again and again and again until the bastard that wiped you out of this world is gone. He’s got no concept of how long it takes, and why would he care? You’re gone, so who gives a shit. He’s a grown man, he can make a mess if he wants. And after the hours or days it takes for him to be satisfied or at least tolerant of the outcome of his vengeance, he returns, probably to go shut himself off indeterminately until Reagan spots him entering the main floor and fucking tears him a new one. Literally I mean she was responsible for the de-torso-ification + the face melting. She’s the one to grip him by the shoulders, one of the few clean parts on his person, and explain that you didn’t die. Unexpectedly, he doesn’t react right away. Then he laughs. This sardonic cruel chuckle and he just shakes his head and looks to the ground before back up at his creator thinking it’s a joke. Then he’s reconnected to the building, leaving the compound causing his disconnect from the non-internet based surveillance system and security mainframe. He goes from broken man to broken man in milliseconds after he realizes she isn’t lying.
This little shit books it to where you are, practically breaking down the doors to your makeshift hospital room to see you alive. He made it into the doorway but just stood for a moment, stagnant, and smiling at you even though you were unconscious and unable to see it. He just tentatively steps in, keeping quiet and taking the nearest chair to your bed and looking over your form, analyzing the monitors and your health stats and realizing that you really were going to be okay. Maybe some mental trauma and physical therapy but you were alive and okay. He may clean himself up a bit before you wake up, switch out parts in order to not have you see how he harmed himself in the process of trying to avenge you. Ro’ll wash up, new suit and tie, and it’s strangely domestic since he’s a sharp dressed man, tall dark and brooding, cuffing his sleeves and fixing his hair like he’s going on a date. He visits you, getting you gorgeous but fake flowers, knowing you hate the smell of stale ones, and would rather keep them around than toss them out to rot in a sterile trashcan. He waits for you and I’m not sure if he’s noticed, but his mimicked human behavior. Absentmindedly, he’ll drum his fingers against the skin of your hand or palm. He’ll roll his sleeves up to his forearms and loosen his tie, something that he knows for a fact turns you on by the ministrations and image alone. And when your eyes flicker open, groaning at the fluorescents above beaming down unforgivingly, he turns in a flash to gaze at you while you come to. Chapped lips parted you gasp a little, oxygen automatically filling your lungs from the small tubes nestled in the nook of your nose. He helps you sit up, figuring you wouldn’t be in your right mind to talk or be alert after what had happened and the bodily trauma you went through. The toothy childish grin that shifts over his face as he hears his name, the one you gifted him, as your first word coming croaked out and stiff from your dusty vocal cords, is something you’ll always try and recreate. He sits as close as possible before you argue your way into having him sit in the bed with you. As he holds your hand and presses kisses to the knuckles, he feels warm again at your side. Where he’s meant to be.
ADDITION, slightly nsfw, you thank @mrsbretthand for this y’all: you’re high as shit in pain meds but it’s not the kind where you’re not going to remember anything or aren’t conscious. No you know what’s going on, your tongues feels heavy like lead and you’re numb as hell but you definitely know there’s a hole in your body and it’s not where it should be. Plus, your Robot husband is looking extra fine too, he knows it, but he he didn’t realize you’re a menace to society and like causing or problems on purpose like your raising heart rate the second you look him up and down and up and down you’re high bitch go sleep and he’s enjoying the hell out of it, mortified, and unsure of what to do because human is functioning but not right. You’re blatantly flirting with him and trying to fuck him while you’re plugged up into the monitors and IVs like the old fashioned operator-required phone lines with the audio jacks. Hell, he’s flushing at this point. I can’t decide if the gang’s there or not to witness it but you’re literally this close to jumping his carbon alloy bones while naked as the day you were born, britches-less, beneath a hospital gown that does nothing to hide how squirmy you are. Maybe he’ll be nice to you with some tender love and care when you aren’t as delicate and not connected to a heart monitor.
Summary: The reader has some news, how will Cisco take it?
Pairing: Cisco Ramon x Reader (The Flash)
Word Count: 852
Notes: This one-shot was requested by an anon, asking for the prompts “Oh God, I need a drink” (193), “You’d be a great dad” (58), and “I’m pregnant (39). I believe this is one of the first requests that I’ve done, and I hope I did the request justice! This was a little bit more angsty at the beginning than I aimed for, but I hope the ending was fluffy enough for your liking :D
Warnings: Pregnancy.
The tile of the bathroom floor felt cold as you sat upon it, spine resting uncomfortably against the hard wooden door. Impatience left you tapping nervously, wishing that the results of the silly piece of white plastic would just hurry up. The five minutes gave you plenty of time to think about how to tell the man that had wormed his way into your heart, yet as the timer on your phone went off you couldn’t help but swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat. Were you ready for this?
Pulling yourself off the floor, you took in a huge gulp of air, eyes closed so tightly that when you opened them there were little swirls of bright white in your vision. The test laid flat upside down on the bathroom counter, your fingers trembled as you flipped it over - holding in the last breath of oxygen you had taken in.
Positive.
Laughter bubbled from your chest, unsure how to react. You weren’t ready for this? Were you? The idea of having a mini version of you or Cisco was pleasant in theory, but in practice, who knew what could happen?
“Y/N, you in there?” Cisco knocked from the other side of the bathroom door. You looked up into the mirror, wiping away tears that you hadn’t even noticed dripping down your face. You wondered how Cisco would react, swiping the test from the counter and hiding it in your sleeve as you opened the door.
“I think we should talk,” you murmured and pulled him to sit on the bed that you had been sharing in your combined apartment for the last year and a bit. The idea of having a baby became more pleasant the longer you pondered on it, yet the nerves of how Cisco would react had thrown a real spanner in the plans you two had developed.
“What?! What happened? Did I do something wrong, are we breaking up?” Cisco rambled nervously as the two of you sat, you shook your head insisting for him to be quiet for a moment. Slowly, you showed him the pregnancy you had taken not even 10 minutes prior - the bright pink plus sign now visible.
His big brown eyes widened, “you’re pregnant!”
“I’m pregnant.”
He chuckled nervously, the panic obvious on his face as yours dropped. The image of the two of you growing old together and settling down with a few kids had dissipated from your mind.
“We’re going to have a baby,” he deadpanned. The slight nod of your head had satiated his nerves, body quickly shooting up from the bed. “Oh God, I need a drink.”
You hadn’t even managed to get a word in before he had disappeared from the apartment entirely, leaving you to sit alone on the bed you shared with him. It felt like time had come to a stand-still, hearing the front door shutting abruptly and the walls shake from the force.
The tears you managed to swallow prior now working their way back, face warm with embarrassment and fear. Cisco left, you kept repeating to yourself as the sobs wreaked havok throughout your entire body.
It had felt like forever before he had returned home, several bags in hand of things you couldn’t tell. He gently shut the bedroom door, noticing you hadn’t moved a single inch since he had left a few hours prior - eyes softening with love and adoration as you turned your head to look him in the eye.
“I got some stuff from the store, there weren't many places open so this will obviously have to do for now,” he started. His hands worked quickly in taking things out of the shopping bags. One by one, baby onesies in multiple sizes were revealed, alongside books related to parenting and birth, baby toys and more.
You glanced up at him, the excitement on his face as he rambled about what the baby would be like had quickly turned your fear and abandonment into strong feelings of pride and love, something that you had built your relationship upon almost two years ago.
Cisco pushed his hair back behind his ear, watching you nervously as you stared at him. Suddenly, you pulled him into you, crushing him with a hug and smothering him with kisses across his entire face. “We’re going to have a baby.”
A huge smile worked its way upon both of your faces, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a position that you could both comfortable lay down in, the love shared between you had grown - the image of growing old old together and settling down with kids had returned to your mind and you laughed with anticipation of what the years had to come.
“You’re going to be a great dad,” you whispered to him, cuddling into his chest further as you both stared at the ceiling with fond imaginations. You hoped your child would have his appearance, his hair and nose and smile, and every little detail you loved about his face.
“And you’re going to be a great mother,” he reassured.
50 Follower Milestone “Thank you” Prompt list because I don’t check the number of followers enough!
Holy Fuck, guys! Thank you so much! I’m so sorry for not posting anything in godknows how long so here it is! My biggest list to date! My wlw brain kinda jumped out for some, but please feel free to change up the pronouns to male or gn!
*Fluff/Angst Prompt List*
“Hey, if you need to get out of here, just squeeze my hand 3 times, ok?”
“Would you still love me if the world was just made up in my mind?”
“Fuck you! That’s my partner and they are the love of my life regardless of whatever image you’ve projected onto me!.”
“My love for you burns like a thousands suns and...you know what? This poetic shit isn’t my style. Wanna go grab a coffee?”
“Babe, I love you so much, but you didn’t have to buy me 100 of my favorite flowers.”
“And everyone thinks my favorite flowers are the same as my grandma’s, but it isn’t. I just said that so my grandma can have twice the amount of flowers.”
“Listen, when you meet my parents, do not finish your plate or they will fill it back up and feed you to death.”
*buys and peels like 7 crates of fruit because my pregnant wife craved fruit at 3 am*
“Here’s the kitchen, the living room, our bedroom, and my office where I write my little morning poems to my wife.”
“This is the 7th time you’ve asked for a cuddle, and it isn’t even noon yet.”
“My son thinks I’m into this niche interest like him, but I haven’t a clue what anything is and just like spending time with him. Off-topic, do you watch this show called Naruto?”
“When my kids have a bad day, I pack an extra fruit snack in their lunch.”
“I’ve been using a food service to deliver cooked meals to my elderly neighbor who’s widowed. She thinks it’s one of her kids, but it’s been me all along.”
“My grandpa called me over to his house to give me his 4 giant change jars that he’s been collecting for my college fund.”
“Kiss me again. I need to know this is real.”
“We can’t be sure if the curse is broken so kiss me like until midnight.”
“Your eyes are so beautiful.”
“This was a great idea. Let’s get married again in our next life.”
“Look at the lotuses. See how they persevere despite starting their life under the water? That is us right now, and, one day, we will see the light like the lotus flower together as we are meant to, my love.”
“Shut up, and hug me already.”
*in a drunken stupor* “Don’t ask me to spend the night or I might stay forever.”
“I wanna grow old with you. I wanna watch a thousands sunsets with you.”
“Just as you breath life into your work, you breathed life to my mundane and ordinary life.”
“My love, let’s run away together. We can make a new start with just us, and no one can keep us apart.”
“Sometimes all you can do is your best, and that’s ok.”
“Just give me your hands! How could you forget to bring mittens?”
“Here just,” *pulls s/o into their jacket, “Better?”
*wakes up from a fever dream to find s/o sleeping next to the bed with a tray of medicine and juice*
“Heaven is doing all it can to keep us apart, but I promise to come back to you.”
“He told me he would come back as the first blossoms of spring.”
“Are you running a fever?” *pulls their forehead to touch theirs*
*holding their hands* “Don’t get the wrong idea! I don’t want you to get lost.”
“It’s ok to want to be loved, my dear.”
“Every face, every identity, every life you’ve had, my love, I have always found you.”
“I love you. I love you more than there are stars in the sky so please don’t forget me.”
“I will always come home. Have I ever lied to you?”
“If you hold the calligraphy brush like this,” *holds the brush and their hand* “You have more control over your strokes.”
*tucks their hair behind their ears* “Why do you hide this beauty?”
“It’ll be faster if I carry you.”
“These calloused and rough hands do so much to ensure my happiness, and that is why they are also the most beautiful hands in the world.”
“Rest now, love, for I will take care of the rest.”
“I don’t know why I love you so much. I just know you make me feel safe.”
“There is something about you. I just can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Thank you for being the only one to listen to me. Like truly listen to me.”
“I feel like I’ve known you forever. Is that crazy?”
“What are you doing to me? When I see you, my heart skips over a beat, and when you speak, that’s all I hear.”
“Human emotion is a heavy burden, but it isn’t one you need to carry alone, love”
“And when you inevitably leave me, will you still love me?”
“One day, when the earth reclaims my body, search for me in the sky and in the stars for I will always watch over you.”
“Waking up to see you sleeping next to me is the greatest ‘I love you’ I will ever receive.”
Lila Pitts x Reader, 34 from the Angst prompt list
-✨
A/N: [I should say something here. Fill it in later]
Word Count: 317
Rating: T - canon typical violence and gun references
“Lila, what's going on?” You asked in confusion and fear as bullets whizzed past your heads.
“We walked into a trap,” she answered with gritted teeth.
You poked your head up, peering through a gap in the crates you had taken cover behind.
“We've only got pistols,” you pointed out. “There's too many of them to outshoot.”
“I know. I'm thinking.”
Normally that would be a comfort to you, but for some reason, right now, it just made you more worried, maybe because you knew your partner well, and her proclivity for recklessly disregarding protocol or for taking dangerous courses of action because she decided they would be fine. Or because she had that look in her eye, the one that said you were going to regret whatever she was about to do.
“Okay, I have an idea,” she said finally. “When I say go...Run. As fast as you can. Don’t look back.”
“What?!” you hissed. “There is no way I’m leaving you behind.”
“Who says you’re going to?”
“No one says ‘don’t look back’ unless they’re about to do something stupid that they don’t want the other person to know about, like sacrificing themselves.”
She scoffed. “I might love you, but I don’t love you enough to die.”
You paused for a second, trying to process what she said. Was it a confession? Or a joke between totally platonic friends?
“You what?” you murmured.
“I love you, obviously. But we don’t have time to discuss it right now, so will you please run so we can get out of here and talk properly?”
You bit your lip, not sure if you believed her. You wanted to, but it could just as easily be an attempt to distract you. Then you sighed. It didn’t really matter, if you never left this crouch behind a set of boxes.
Hanzo’s legs itch again. The tiny phantom pains pinch and tingle down his legs. They grow like the cresting of waves along a shoreline below him. One forceful tug wakes him from an already fitful slumber. It’s disorienting, the heat of it traveling up his spine to gnaw at his tail bone. He lays looking up at the ceiling. Eyes bleary with sleep and sweat soaked sheets clinging to his feverish body. It takes a moment for his brain to register exactly what woke him. When it does it only adds another layer to his discomfort. Spots bloom in his vision now, pulsing white and grey in the dim light of his bedroom. Their strobing turns his stomach but closing his eyes only makes it worse.
His dragons emerge then from their warm little nest under his blankets. Tiny tongues flick out along his brow and shell of his ear trying in vain to comfort him. Hanzo whimpers at the small gesture. As hyper sensitive as his skin was it felt like needles poking and stabbing into his face. They change tactics. Sharp claws skitter off his torso down to his legs. They pull the blankets from his sweaty grip and off his body. Chirping and cooing they scratch at the chrome and steel plating around his knees hunting for the locking mechanism.
“No-” Hanzo croaks out. His body finally pulling out of the fog enough for him to swat them away. “Do not take them off.” His dragons whine, high pitch and full of worry. They have taken his legs off before, it had helped before. Back when he first lost his legs, back when his father refused to call the doctors as punishment. “I’m fine.” He lies. “I just need to walk it off.”
He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Cold metal feet touching equally cold wood flooring. The itching turns into burning. The sensors in his feet send information up his fraying nerves. He groans out long and low in frustration. He just wished to sleep. Perhaps he should go to the med bay- no, no he had been there twice in that many weeks over this. Angie would start to ask too many questions. She was already nagging him about regular check ups and physical therapy.
No. He could deal with this on his own. Rubbing at the scarred flesh of his thighs to warm them he focuses on his breathing. Centering himself and distracting himself from the pain just enough to move unimpeded. When the tension eases he stands hobbling to his door.
The outer hallway was quiet, it must be very late in the evening for no one to be up. The few reasonable agents stationed here probably in their rooms or already asleep. Slowly, Hanzo makes his way down the sterile white walls to the rec room. Perhaps a hot compress and tea would work tonight. The muscles of his legs and spine sting and twitch under his tight skin. It stops him for a moment, the concert of the wall the only thing keeping him upright.
Screw the tea, he had alcohol stored around here somewhere.
“You alright darlin’?” The archer jerks in surprise. So caught up in his own misery he hadn’t even realized where his feet had taken him. His eyes gaze on an equally startled McCree. A spoonful of ice cream hovering halfway to the cowboy’s lips. Jesse blinks back owlishly caught in his own rights. Hanzo’s knees finally give out. “Hey!”
He is caught up in a strong, sure grip. The cowboy’s dessert was cast aside to fall to the kitchen floor. Hanzo’s upper body is safe but his knees hit hard on the tile forcing a cry of pain from him. “Shit Hanz- talk ta’ me. Need me to get Ang’? ”
“I thought you were lactose intolerant.” Hanzo blurts through the pain. His addled mind latching one to that one thought randomly.
Jesse barks out a concerned little laugh. “Some things are worth the pain. Don’t be tellin’ Angie that or she’ll tan my hide. But don’t change the subject. You good?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” He lies once more. Hanzo tries and fails to compose himself, his feet refusing to cooperate. No, that wasn’t right. His legs worked fine, he had gotten a tune up just last week and he hadn’t been put out on the field since then. His body just refused to function properly. He leans heavily into Jesse’s warmth beyond embarrassed at this show of weakness. “Can you help me up?” Jesse raises a brow but doesn't argue.
Wordlessly the burly man helps his teammate up, allowing Hanzo to use him as a crutch to limp to the old, but comfortable couch nearby. Collapsing with a sigh of relief Hanzo drops his head into his hands. “Phantom pains are the worst.” Jesse says connecting the dots.
“How?”He smiles softly at the look of surprise on Hanzo’s face. He wiggles his mechanical fingers out in front of the archers face. Hanzo flushes crimson. “I’m sorry.” Jesse shrugs it off coming to sit next to him.
“Ain’t a problem sug’.” He points at his legs. “So what gotcha this time? An itchy toe? Charley horse? Legs fell asleep? My ‘arm’ fell asleep once in a meetin’ nearly drove me insane. Got real close to chucking it at Jack’s head just ta get the damn thing over with.” Hanzo chuckles momentarily distracted by Jesse’s blasé tone.
“It’s more of an incessant pulsing,” He admits. “sometimes a shooting pain. I can ignore it when it’s just throbbing but then the stabbing starts up and-” He trails off waving at his legs. “I want to scratch and knead them, but what good will that do to metal?” Jesse is quiet for a moment. His eyes turn soft with understanding.
“Can I help? Promise if you don’t like it I’ll stop. Got a bottle of bourbon under the sink, I know that’ll help. But let’s keep that as a last resort.” He winks. “Don’t worry I ain’t a snitch to Angie. I understand the need to dull it, unhealthy coping or not. I can’t judge.” Hanzo nods, tired and desperate. He’ll try anything. “Great! Go head and prop your legs up here.” Jesse pats his legs. Once elevated Hanzo watches with rapt attention as Jesse drapes the ratty throw left on the back of the couch over the metal of his legs up to his mid thigh. “Make sure to watch now.”
Making sure his movements were clearly televised Jesse takes a leg and begins messaging Hanzo’s slender ankle through the blanket. Hanzo feels nothing at first. Then slowly he feels it, he could almost imagine the feel Jesse’s callus fingers digging into the non-existent muscle and sinew of his calf. He moves with practiced ease poking and digging into his trouble spots. Hanzo felt like he could cry as the sharp pains turn into a manageable throb. It wasn’t gone completely but this was manageable. “Ol’ trick I learned from some vets back in Blackwatch.” Jesse rumbles breaking the silence. “It ain’t magic, but it tricks the brain a bit. Helps at least till your meds can kick in.”
“I’m not on any.” Hanzo admits wilting at Jesse’s sharp gaze. “What are you?” He snaps defensively, crossing his arms.
“ ‘Course I am! An’ I go to therapy once a week.” Oh. Jesse drops Hanzo’s leg gently and grabs his hand. “Listen Hanzo. Like I said I ain’t gunna pry but there isn’t anything wrong with gettin’ help. Trust me. Wish I had listened back in the day. An’ when I was on the lamb- damn it was tough.” Hanzo barely listens. His eyes locked on the warm soft hand wrapped around his. He laments it’s lost when Jesse moves away, going back to the leg he hadn’t worked on yet.
“I see. I- perhaps I will talk to Angie later.” Jesse beams at him. “Till then- I thank you.”
Another little s4 ficlet, that has taken me waaayyy too long to write. Thanks to @i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind and @indelibleevidence and @take2intotheshower for listening as I hummed and hawed with this one, trying to get things right. Thank you also for the proofread, Heather. You guys are great!
If you’d rather read this on FFN the link is here. Please let me know what you think 😊.
This fic is slightly canon divergent for 4x09. Instead of ambushing Kurt as he gets home, Shepherd is at the address that Jane gave them. Shepherd dies in a shootout that ensues. Instead of going home, Kurt goes to the hospital to take Jane home.
Remorse
Jane was sitting on the exam table, the chill of the room penetrating the thin hospital gown she was wearing in addition to her underwear. Her clothes were on a chair by the door, but at that moment even that distance felt like miles. Sighing, she leaned her head against her arms. She was exhausted, mentally more so than physically. Yes, she was achy from the fight and the bruised ribs caused by it, and the fever she had developed during her little journey through her mind was still present but the battle in her brain had left her drained.
Hearing the door open, she looked up.
“Kurt!” His name escaped her in an exclamation. She had been expecting one of the nurses, a member of her security detail or even Rich, but Kurt’s entry caught her by surprise.
“Hey,” he greeted her warmly as he walked up to her, taking her hand in his.
Jane took a few seconds to look at him: he was no longer wearing his body armor, only the ever-present holster on his hip. She noticed some dark stains on his jeans. Blood. She gasped, looking at him in alarm.
“Kurt, are you injured? What–”
He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m fine, it’s not my blood. It’s…” He glanced away briefly, sighing. “It’s Shepherd’s.”
“What happened?” Jane asked, although she suspected she already knew.
“She was at the address that you gave us, but she didn’t give up without a fight. She started a shootout, wounding a couple of agents before she was shot. We tried to save her, but she bled out.” He gave a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry, Jane. I know you were hoping to talk to her, to get closure.”
She nodded, numb somehow. She was conflicted. On one hand she was glad that the woman, who had made her adolescence and much of her adult life hell with her mind games and manipulation, was dead, but on the other, it felt as if death had given Shepherd the last laugh. Now, having Remi’s memories as well, she could never make Shepherd answer the questions that lingered. Or have her answer for all the terrible things she had done or had people do.
“Jane…”
“I’m okay.”
As Kurt cupped her cheek, she saw the bandage on his arm and the guilt came flooding back. That’s my fault.
She reached out, gingerly tracing her fingers over the bandage. “Kurt, I’m so sorry I did this. I–“
He shook his head, dismissing her apology. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I got a prescription for antibiotics from the doctor and it’s going to be fine.”
She averted her eyes, looking down at the floor. Somehow the room felt even colder now.
“You’re shivering…” Kurt exclaimed, engulfing her in an embrace.
Jane breathed a weary sigh and pressed her cheek against Kurt’s shoulder, closing her eyes. She didn’t speak, just leaned into his arms and calming touch as he slowly ran his hand up and down her back. His touch had always had that soothing effect on her, ever since the day they met, and today wasn’t an exception.
She gave a quiet sound of protest as Kurt pulled back.
“You’re still running a fever,” he said with concern as she met his eyes. She felt an inexplicable warmth in her chest at his look. Yes, there was worry, but the look was one he reserved only for her. The love and tenderness shining in there almost brought her to tears.
“I’m fine, Kurt,” she said, hoping to convince him.
Every bit the worried husband that he was, he gazed at her, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head slightly. She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek. “Maybe you should stay here overnight, just to be sure that it won’t spike?”
“No, they already gave me something for the fever and instructions for Tylenol if it persists.” Jane sounded almost desperate, even to her own ears. She gave him a pleading look, leaning closer to him. “Kurt, please,” she murmured. “I just want to go home”. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted, and she could feel a headache approaching. She desperately wanted to go home, crawl into her own bed and fall asleep in her husband’s arms.
Kurt held her close, kissing her hair. “Okay. We’ll go.”
Kurt stopped the car at the red light, and glanced at Jane in the passenger seat beside him. They were almost home, but the anxiety in his chest felt like it was a snowball rolling downhill, growing every moment. Jane was even more subdued than normal: she was leaning against the headrest and her eyes were closed.
“You okay?” He queried softly as he carefully took her hand into his, intertwining their fingers.
She swallowed thickly, her discomfort obvious. “The headaches are back. It feels like someone is sawing my skull in half.”
“Oh, Jane. We’ll be home in a couple of minutes.” He squeezed her hand before turning his eyes back to the road.
He held on to her hand as he maneuvered the SUV onto their street. The car jerked as he found a curbside spot and parked. A whimpering sound escaped Jane at the sudden movement.
“Sorry.” He hated seeing her in pain.
As he turned off the ignition and was about to exit the car to go help Jane out, she turned to him, and muttered, “What if this is it?”
Kurt had allowed to himself to feel a small spark of hope in his heart again today, when Jane had returned to him in spirit as well as in body. That maybe the information they had found on Roman’s latest cache would also help them find the cure for ZIP, if it led Patterson to this treatment, as dangerous as it had been. But now, at Jane’s fearful question, that spark almost went out: his heart feeling like someone was scrubbing rough sandpaper over his emotions.
“Jane…”
“What if it’s too late? What if we don’t find the cure in time?”
Now it was Kurt’s turn to swallow thickly, as he stamped down on his own rising fear and cupped her cheek gingerly. “You can’t think like that. We will find that information, and get that cure.”
“Roman didn’t. ”Jane’s tone was desperate as she repeated the fact that he was constantly trying to block out of his consciousness.
A pained sound escaped him, be she continued before he could speak.
“I was already hallucinating, just like he was. You know as well as I do that it’s a late onset symptom!” Her voice was rising, her eyes reflecting her fear as she looked at him. “I’m dying, Kurt.”
Ignoring the console between them, Kurt pulled her into a fierce hug. “Don’t say that.” He held her close, kissing her hair as he tried to comfort her. “We will find that cure. I promise.” He could feel the tension in her body, her ragged, pained breaths as she fought to keep her tears away. He squeezed his own eyes shut, willing the moisture away as he released a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to fight this alone. I’m right here.”
Jane didn’t say anything, merely nodding against him.
He wished he knew what to say to her. He desperately wanted to convince her that they would find the cure. In his mind, there was no there was no other alternative. They had to.
Jane had gotten out of the shower and dressed in a tank top and underwear. She shivered, trying to will the headache away as she left the bathroom. She was about to enter their bedroom, but stopped abruptly when she saw Kurt standing in front of the wardrobe with his back to her as he cautiously removed his shirt. She noticed the bruising forming on his side, and hearing him wince she felt the guilt crash down on her again.
“Kurt…” She stepped up to him, tracing her fingers over the bruises with a light touch. She looked up at him briefly, before averting her eyes to the ground. “I’m so sorry…for everything I did, how I –”
“Shh.” His fingers traced her jaw, then caressed her cheek. “I told you, it doesn’t matter, Jane.”
The tenderness in his voice and the love reflected in his eyes made her chin tremble, as she fought to control her emotions. “I don’t deserve him. I’m such a terrible person.” The guilt kept gnawing at her. It was eating her inside, but it was also like ice on her insides, freezing her, imprisoning her in a desolate vastness.
“It does!” Her voice quivered as she reached up to trace her fingers lightly over the cut on his forehead. “I shot at you…” The searing pain in her heart almost made her gasp, as she continued, her voice barely a whisper. “You could have died in that crash.”
“But I didn’t.” His thumb traced her cheek softly.
Jane averted her eyes from him and stepped away from him, the remorse squeezing her insides.
“Jane…”
She saw the compassion in his look, and it only made her feel more undeserving. “You’re too good for someone like me,” she said sadly.
“Don’t say that. You– “Kurt took a step closer, but she stopped him with a raised hand.
“I love you, Kurt. More than anyone. But the things I did…I lied to you, manipulated you.”
He sucked in a pained breath. “You weren’t yourself.”
“I was plotting to kill you.” Jane looked down, horrified at herself.
“I know. But you didn’t.” Kurt’s voice was gentle, understanding almost. He reached for her hand, carefully brushing his thumb across the back of her hand.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, wincing at the sharp pain in her head. Pushing the pain away, she went on “I misled you and the team, covering things, blackmailing.”
He shook his head sharply, almost as if he did not want to believe it.
“I broke Shepherd out of that black site! I was going to–”
“And we’ll explain it to Weitz and the CIA. Jane, please. You weren’t yourself.” Kurt was pleading with her now, clearly agonizing over her words. “You’re sick, it’s the poison.”
Still, the little voice inside her castigated her mercilessly. “You’re a terrorist. You know what happens to terrorists.” That realization made her blood run cold, as memories of those three months in the custody of the CIA surfaced. She remembered the pain, heard her own screams, and Keaton’s cold and calculating tone as he had her tortured, again and again.
Her heart was pounding, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were wide with fear as they met Kurt’s.
Her tone was getting more distraught with every word she spoke. “The CIA…what if… What if they’re going to take me again? For breaking out Shepherd, for the money, for working with Violet, for–“
“No, Jane.” Kurt pulled her tightly against him, and she went willingly now, closing her eyes as she tried to get her racing heart under control. “I won’t let that happen. Ever.” He murmured into her hair. “Rich and Patterson will come up with an explanation for Weitz that will keep the CIA away.”
She lifted her head, gazing at him, being unable to articulate the gratitude and love she felt for him.
He gave her a loving smile, his fingers tracing her temple. He frowned when he noticed her discomfort. “You’re still running a fever…and you’re in pain.”
“It’s just a headache,” she tried to soothe him, even though her entire body was aching now that the warm shower had reawakened her bruised muscles.
He reached out to pull down the bedcovers as he tenderly tugged at her fingers with his other hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Jane sighed, the weariness starting to engulf her. She was unable to hide a wince as her bruised side protested the movement when she turned toward him.
“Jane…” Kurt’s voice was full of worry, as he guided her to sit on the side of the bed.
“I’m okay,” she protested, as his hand went to lift her tank top.
“Let me see,” he said softly, moving her hand away.
“Kurt, it’s not–“
“Oh, Jane… I’m sorry,” he said remorsefully as he saw her bruised side and back, tracing the bruised area with a light touch. “Do you need a painkiller?”
She shook her head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I just need some sleep.”
“Okay. Lie down.”
She was about to protest as he gingerly guided her onto the bed and tucked the duvet around her, but looking into his eyes she saw his love and behind it the anguish he tried to keep from her. She understood how important this was to him, now that she was back with him, in mind as well as in body. So, she just smiled at the gesture and closed her eyes.
Then, she heard the rustle of the sheets as he joined her on the bed.
“Come here.” He placed a kiss on her neck and pulled her against his chest.
Needing to feel closer still, Jane turned, snuggling deeper into his warm embrace.
Finally, she was home. No mind games, no pretenses. Just the two of them.
“I love you,” she whispered against him.
He breathed a shuddering sigh, kissing her forehead tenderly before he tightened his arms around her.
“I love you, too. We’ll find that cure and everything’s gonna be okay. I promise you.”
Starker idea: peter having a nervous habit of bouncing his leg really fast without knowing so tony tries to stop his nervous habit then one time tony does the leg bouncing and peter stops Tony OR peter teaching tony how to cook, peter isnt gordan Ramsey but he can get by and they enjoy being around each other :D
Patton was laying on his bed, cuddling his favorite fluffy stuffed animal to his chest, daydreaming about anything at all. There was a solid but gentle tap at his door, which signaled one specific Side was at his door.
Logan.
“Come in Logan.” Patton called out as stared at the ceiling, not making any movements to get up.
Patton heard the door open, but it was out of his line of sight. Small, soft, but purposeful footsteps approached his place on the bed. Logan’s face came into view.
“Hey Patton...” Logan greeted with an unusually small sounding voice.
That fact pulled Patton upright and straight into ‘something is wrong and I will fix it’ mode. Patton took in Logan’s full figure. Body language, the state of his clothes, the fact Logan wasn’t making eye contact.
Without any hesitation, Patton wrapped his arms around Logan, who initially stiffened at the contact, but then melted into Patton’s embrace.
Patton let Logan indulge in the embrace a little before breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”
Logan was still for a beat. Then Patton felt him shudder as Logan started to gently cry.
Patton could tell that Logan needed this release, and pressing him for the specific reason was not what Logan needed right now.
He was Logan’s shoulder to cry on, wherever and whenever he needed it.
A time later, Logan’s cries slowed to a stop and they sat in silence. Both sides indulging in the warm embrace of each other’s company. Each other’s heartbeat was all both sides could hear.
Eventually, Logan’s embrace with Patton became more and more gentle until Patton realized that Logan was falling asleep. He looked up at Logan to see his eyes half lidded and dropping.
Patton waited a little longer until he knew Logan was fully asleep before he moved. He gently picked Logan up into a carrying position and then gently laid him down onto Patton’s bed. Patton laid the covers over him and removed Logan’s glass, placing them on the closest bedside table.
Patton then joined Logan in the bed, knowing that he couldn’t leave his room now that Logan was here. Removing his own glasses he settled himself down.
Logan shifted unconsciously as Patton shifted himself get himself comfortable in the bed. And Patton found himself in the embrace of the sleepy(/ing) Logan.
As Patton felt himself slipping into sleep, he let the smile he had been feeling build blossom on his face.
