Transfem Eugene Sims where she decides on the name Evangeline and Fetch and her hang out a bunch, Fetch helping her get comfortable with herself and polyam Fetch/Evangeline/Delsin.
Warnings: violence, assault, character vomiting (towards the end in a hospital), mentions of offscreen character death, language, vivid description of injuries. Whump, all the whump.
Notes: my first prompt for @amonthofwhump 12 Days of Whumpmas and a gift for @cooldadmondmiles for the Infamous ProtoCreed_Dogs 2021 Winter Gift Exchange!
Collection Summary: A collection of semi-related one shots for Whumpmas 2021 featuring one Delsin Rowe. Oh, the poor unfortunate soul. Lots of Delsin whump, but he will have plenty of comfort from the people that love him. Rowe bro feels and Delgenetch
Chapter Summary: Delsin, having taken a much needed trip back to Salmon Bay to visit his tribe and his brother for about a week, returns to Seattle back to his boyfriend and girlfriend.
Or, he would have, if not for being assaulted on the way there. His not so distant past has caught up to him in the worst possible way. Reggie, multiple Akomish, and Eugene and Fetch are worried sick about him. They search well into the night...but what they find chills them to the bone
(AO3 Link) | (FF Link)
Prompt: 1) Partridge in a Pear Tree: Tied to a Tree | Given as a Gift | Putting up the Tree
Months after fighting Augustine, saving Seattle, and healing his tribe, Delsin still did not feel like the hero people made him out to be. He was just one guy in his twenties who barely had his life together. Even though he was there, smack in the middle during all of this, whenever he heard someone talk about it or heard about it on the news, it always felt…surreal. Like it wasn’t actually him mentioned. As if it was some other Delsin.
He tried to push those thoughts aside right now.
He was having a decent day. His depression was manageable today and he didn’t want to work himself into a downward spiral.
Stopping in his walk, he leaned against a tree and took a deep breath, placing a hand against his chest. Five seconds in, eight seconds out. ‘If you feel yourself getting overwhelmed,’ he could hear his therapist’s voice in his head, ‘stop everything you’re doing if possible and breathe. You’d be surprised how much that will help, even if just for a few minutes.’
He had been doing alright for most of today. He had gone back to Salmon Bay to visit his tribe, both wanting to make sure that everyone was okay and just to see some familiar faces and places. Living in his apartment in Seattle was great, but he had been with the Akomish his whole life—he had missed them. Betty had been a sight for sore eyes—her pies an even better sight for his sore (hungry) stomach, and hearing the kids running around all over the place calmed him. There had been a handful of kids that he had thought weren’t…weren’t going to make it when they were suffering from the concrete. One five-year-old, Stephanie, had an incredibly weak immune system while two ten-year-old twins, Jessie and Jennie, already had problems that affected their healing. He didn’t know the exact details as he wasn’t a doctor, but Delsin was aware that they had always been in and out of the hospital since they were very young.
Getting to spend some time with Reggie was better than expected. Refreshing, even. After his brother had been ki—had been thought to be dead, Delsin was not proud to say he had gone to a dark place after taking down Augustine. He still felt like he was in that place some days…But, joking around with Reggie, eating their favorite junk food, and binging bad TV had made him feel less anxious. Less jittery. Had brought back a sense of normalcy that put him at ease.
Now, he was walking away from the reservation through the woods that surrounded the area. As much as he liked going fast-paced, it was times like these that he liked to take the scenic route. Literally, in this case. He had spent much of his childhood running around between the trees around here, so he wasn’t worried about getting lost. I was born in this area thanks to my parents, and I was born again as an active Conduit here too.
The only good that had come out of meeting that asshole Hank, other than coming into his powers, were Fetch and Eugene. They had become fast friends during The Shit Show, then even more than that when things calmed down.
The ringtone for a video call coming from his phone broke him out of his thoughts. When he pulled out his phone, he was unsurprised to see it was from the group chat he was in with Fetch and Eugene. Speak of the devil. Well, more like devils.
“Hey, D!” Fetch’s voice chirped once he joined the call.
“Hey, Delsin,” Eugene’s greeting was less energetic, though happy to see him, nonetheless.
Delsin smiled. Hearing their voices always made him feel better. “Sup, guys? Missing me that much already? Didn’t think a week away would be so hard on you.”
Eugene snorted while Fetch rolled her eyes. The video shook a bit as the phone was taken and refocused on Eugene’s face. He looked good. Still styled to cover part of his forehead, his bangs didn’t hang so much in front of his glasses anymore. Must have gotten a trim. Delsin liked it as it shaped his face handsomely. “Please,” their angel fiddled with one of his hoodie strings with his free hand, “not uh, not that much. Not to say we didn’t! Um, we to-totally did, but you were busy, and and, you know—“
This time, Fetch took the phone before Eugene’s nervousness grew too much. Her pink hair had grown a bit after getting some actual nutrition and supplements after moving into Delsin’s apartment. It was to the length now that she had it up in an intricately braided bun. One that a single person wouldn’t be able to do. Did Eugene know how to braid? “Don’t get an inflated head, now. You wouldn’t be able to fit into your beanie if that happens.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Such a comedian.”
“I live t’ please, my good man.”
The feeling of autumn leaves trailed under his fingertips as he brushed his fingers against multiple bushes while walking. He loved this weather. “So now that I know you guys weren’t missing my pretty face, what’s up?”
This time Eugene pressed into Fetch’s space instead of taking back the phone. Not that she minded. “We knew you’re coming back to Seattle today. Just, you know, wanted to check on you.” Even dating them for a few months now, Eugene still had times of shyness he struggled with. “Not that you can’t take care of yourself! But…we know what the Akomish are to you.”
“Thanks, ‘Gene,” he smiled at him. He felt something in his chest soften at the concern and thought. They weren’t Akomish, but they were steadily climbing up to that same level of importance in his life. Very steadily.
“Plus, I need to know the latest gossip,” Fetch’s purple eyeshadow shimmered when her eyes crinkled with her grin.
He looked around for a second. About another ten minutes of walking and he would get to the bus stop that would take him to Seattle. Sure, he could use his powers to run or fly there, but that would take energy and just make him tired. And he could work on some sketches while riding on the bus, so that made it an easy decision. “There’s always gossip, so which do you want to hear first? Martha Zee and Jen’s relationship or the ongoing bake-off between Miss Meg and Miss Shiro?”
“The bake-off!” Eugene’s enthusiasm could be felt through the phone.
“We gotta know, did Miss Meg sabotage Miss Shiro’s oven again?” Fetch was hungry for an answer. He couldn’t blame her; the intense bake-off between the two older women had been going on for the past year. It had escalated from a simple disagreement over the best way to cook brownies to prank-level full-on sabotage between two women into their seventies.
He plucked a big yellow leaf from a low hanging branch. He would use it as a texture pressing later. He couldn’t help himself as he said, “Would you believe it was Miss Shiro this time that switched Miss Meg’s cocoa powder with brown pastel powder?”
“She what?!”
“You’re kidding!”
Delsin took great joy in giving them the juiciest new details in the ridiculous, but hilarious, old lady battle. Sometimes sabotaged foods were sullied beyond saving, but more often than not, the ‘not good enough, not simply good enough’ baked goods were just fine for hungry stomachs and sticky fingers around the place. Reg and himself took no shame in hunching under the windowsill and nabbing a mini pie or three.
Or five.
Same diff.
The sun was starting to get low, but not quite to the point of sunset. Four o’clock in the fall was not the same as four o’clock in the summer. Just as he was about to get into details of the loudest argument he had heard between the two women, he felt something slam hard into his side. He was sent flying several feet, coming to a stop when his back hit a tree.
He groaned. Or, he made the approximation of a groan since he was trying to get his lungs to work again. The leaves and dirt under his hands were cool as he pushed himself up. He did not know where the hell his phone went. A cough rattled out of his chest. “The fuck…?”
“Finally found you, you son of a bitch,” a hostile voice hissed from behind him.
Delsin was fast, but apparently this person was faster. Before he could even turn his body to see who in the hell had hit him, he felt a sharp, hard force strike his head. A cry fell out of his mouth. He collapsed back onto the ground. Ringing sounded in his ears and nausea began to make itself known. He blinked, but the spots in his vision did not disappear.
Somehow, he had managed to hear the person speak over the growing ringing in his ears. “Time to make you pay, ‘Hero of Seattle’.”
The smell of dampness and autumn decay hit him first.
Then a bitch of a headache walloped him like a sack of bricks being slammed against his skull. Specifically the back of his head. He groaned. He was about to move his arm to try and rub the ache away until his body jerked in place. He shot his eyes open, vision blurry for just a few seconds—he was restrained against a pole? No. A clearer look around, seeing the dirt, grass, leaves, and bushes, made him realize he was tied against a large tree.
Trying to maneuver himself gave him a worse enlightenment. His hands, which were tied behind him, were covered in a thick slab of something hard. He tried to manipulate the material, but no success. It was too solid to have been neon, video, or smoke, and if it had been concrete, he would have been able to manipulate it. It was too smooth. Metal?
What in the hell happened…?
The pain in his head was making it difficult for him to focus. He remembered walking back from visiting his tribe, taking the long route through the forested area around Salmon Bay. He had been talking to…someone? Had there been someone there with him? He racked his mind and then remembered, oh yes, he had been on a video call with his partners. And then…and then…
He swore. And then someone had attacked him and knocked him out. What the fuck?
“Nice to see you awake, hero,” the same voice from earlier said.
From a thick tree to his left and in front of him leaned the person who, assumedly, had been the one to attack him. She was about Fetch’s height, although leaning towards the much bulkier side. Her hobby must have been benchpressing or something, because the muscles in her arms seemed to strain her shirt as she crossed her arms. (He was only a tiny bit jealous.) Her pale skin contrasted against the deep blue of her hat and bubble vest. Her black pants and boots, however, were fairly nondescript and looked like she could have gotten them anywhere.
He would have said she could have looked like anyone he would come across in the street, but her peculiar stare and pinched frown did not speak to a person from the common masses.
Having no idea what she wanted or what she was going to do to him—well, he had an inkling if the attack and restraining him were to go by—so he thought it best to play it cool as possible. If he said the wrong thing, he didn’t want to know what she would do. “Ah, I hope you haven’t been speaking to the, er, ‘fanclub’ that likes to follow me around. I’m just a regular artist, you see. Like to visit people, tag different places, and eat good food. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but,” he shimmied his shoulders to indicate his bound status, “not really that pleasurable to be like this. Think you can let me go?”
The woman snorted, then shook her head. “I don’t know what he sees that you are. You’re ridiculous.”
Wait a second.
That was not the voice he heard in the forest.
His surprise must have shown on his face because the woman gave a small smirk. “Oh yeah, I don’t want anything really to do with you. It was just my job to get you here.” She pointed to a large thicket of bushes adjacent to him, “He’s the one that you have to deal with.”
Delsin whipped his head to where she was pointing and saw a stupidly tall man. Like, Delsin wasn’t short by any means, but the angle he was at and the height of this man was ridiculous. Probably close to seven feet or something. He really must have been eating his Wheaties since he was born.
“I hate Wheaties,” the man said. Yep, that was the voice from earlier for sure.
Oh, did I say that out loud? Delsin adjusted his wrists to try and wring out the ache from his bound hands. Didn’t work that well. “That’s okay, because you and me both, pal. I swear, my brother used to swear by those things when he wanted to get ahead in his baseball team prac—”
A sharp pain across his mouth cut him off. He hissed at the pain, wondering what the hell happened until he saw a marble-sized metal ball rolling on the ground next to him, shiny with slick red. He licked his lips, and there was a metallic taste in his mouth. He shot his eyes up to meet a pair glaring straight at him, the owner’s hand raised in the air. With a flick of a finger, the man brought back the bloodied ball back to him, sneering at its dirtied surface.
Shit, another Conduit.
And a pissed off one at that.
“Christ, you’re so fucking annoying. Never can keep your mouth shut, can you?” The man shook his head. “Never mind, I already know the answer. I’ve seen you all over the news and online, hero. A chatterbox to a fault. I don’t know how the people of Seattle look up to someone like you.”
Delsin spat out some of the blood that was dripping into his mouth and shot the guy a look. “Hey man, I don’t know what the hell you want with me, but I promise you’re not gonna get that much. I’m close to broke, so if you’re looking for money, you’re not getting any here.”
Metal Man looked like he wanted to set Delsin on fire, which, to be fair, was a look he was kind of used to getting from some people (mostly D.U.P.s). “I don’t want your damn money, you idiot. I want you to suffer!”
He blinked.
His mouth activated quicker than his brain did. “Wow, you sure do sound like a stereotypical movie villain. I don’t think—”
Another ball of metal struck him again, this time larger in size and more forceful in strength. The wind got knocked out of him when it connected with his stomach. Thanks ADHD…getting me into another hole… Breathless, he managed to croak out, “G-Great pitch, man. Must have, hnnn, been in little league as a kid. Though, gotta say, I’m insulted that you want me to suffer so bad. I’ve never even met you before.”
He felt the metal around his arms constrict to the point of feeling the joints of his elbows creak against the trunk of the tree. He couldn’t help the low fuck that escaped his lips, but that seemed to make Metal Man gleeful. Delsin only knew this guy for a few minutes and already decided that he was a bastard. “You may have never met me before directly,” Metal Man started, “but you’ve affected my life in ways that I will never be able to recover from.” It was at this point that Metal Man walked closer to Delsin, and it was something in his face and the way that he moved that set Delsin even more on edge than before.
The bound Conduit was silent when Metal Man squatted in front of him, still dwarfing him with his size. “And what pisses me off even more is that you have no idea what you even did, do you?”
The man was being vague on purpose, which did not help Delsin’s nerves in the slightest. “Like I said before,” he said carefully, “I don’t know you, so I don’t know what I could have done to you. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Tch,” Metal Man rolled his eyes as if he expected the answer, “Of course you don’t.”
He punched Delsin right across the face.
Delsin’s head snapped violently to the side. Lights danced in front of his eyes and that ringing in his ears from earlier made its presence known once again. He groaned, trying to reorient himself. At this rate, his face was going to end up a looking like a messy, old watercolor paint palette.
“My name is Russel Simon, and you, Delsin Rowe, are the murderer of my sister.”
As soon as those words made it to his ears, Delsin could not believe what he was hearing. Him, a murderer? No, no, no that couldn’t be right at all. He’d never killed anyone in his life! Even getting into tussles with D.U.P.s and Akurans, he’d always left them alive. Hurt, but alive. And he made sure he told this guy just that. “You have the wrong person. I don’t know who your sister is, but I didn’t kill her. I’ve never killed anyone before.” Even saying this, his anxiety began to tick up slowly—this situation felt something out of a fever dream. A bad one at that.
The man, now known as Russel, shot out his hand to pull Delsin closer by the collar of his hoodie. The snarl that was present on his face reminded Delsin of some of the feral cats that used to hide away in the cannery. The ones ready to attack someone of they sneezed wrong. He didn’t dare move a muscle right now. “Bullshit! I know for a fact that it was you. My sister was D.U.P., and even though I didn’t always agree with what they did, my sister had a steady paying job that was good for her.” Russel shook Delsin, hand still clutching his hoodie, “So imagine how I felt when I get a call from her superior officer that Sharon wouldn’t be coming home because she was dead.”
Russel threw Delsin back in disgust and the bound Conduit watched him pace irradicably, clutching a hand to his chest. “One of the checkpoint stations got attacked, and oh no, not by some run of the mill thug or criminals looking to cause trouble. No, no…I find out that it was a Conduit who fucking blew up the damn station! And not just any Conduit.” With every word that Russel was saying, dread and fear welled up in Delsin’s chest. He didn’t want to hear anymore.
He didn’t have a choice.
“A smoke-wielding Conduit in a red beanie and hoodie.” He pinned him with a glare that should have vaporized him on the spot. “You, Rowe. You killed my sister that day. It was yourfault the whole scaffolding came down on everyone, and, and—fucking hell, a serrated piece of metal decapitated her! All because of you!”
No.
No, no, nonono, he…No, that couldn’t…Delsin wanted to vomit. His chest hurt, his head throbbed, and it was getting hard to breathe. All he could do was sit there, helpless, and stare at the man in front of him with disbelieving eyes.
But everything he said made sense.
Everything made sense in a sick sort of way.
He had been the only Conduit attacking checkpoint stations when he had first set loose on Seattle with Reggie. Oh God.
He didn’t know how much time had passed. Was he against the tree still? Had it been hours? Minutes? There was too much of everything because how could he have done that? He had done his damnest to make sure all his opponents came out alive, and now he was a murderer.
Her head had gotten decapitated. Because of him.
He was a murderer.
A tight grip on his face brought him back to the physical reality a bit, his wide eyes meeting those of Russel. The manic look from the man’s eyes had disappeared, but Delsin supposed the mania had transferred to him. His body started to shake, and it had nothing to do with the fall chill. “Ohhh, I am glad you finally realized what you’ve done,” Russel’s voice was a stark contrast from earlier: low, almost calm, though darker than before. Dangerous in a way that was making Delsin panic. “Because now…” he stood up straight, looking down at Delsin.
He smiled. “Now, I’m going to take my time with you.”
Fetch, Eugene, and Reggie were besides themselves with worry.
Delsin had been missing for hours now, and there was still no sign of him. None.
The two Conduits had immediately contacted Reggie when Delsin’s call had gotten cut off. They explained that they saw Delsin being tackled by someone and heard them saying something threatening to him before their call cut out. That had been around four o’clock. They had flown via Eugene’s video to the Salmon Bay area faster than ever before—they had set a new record.
Reggie set up a police search in the area as soon as possible. Technically there should have been a waiting period to file a missing person’s report, but Reggie was the Sherriff, and his officers knew Delsin. Everyone knew he wouldn’t have disappeared with no contact like that, especially after such a nice visit to the reservation. Word had spread quickly, despite Reggie’s efforts to not panic the tribe, and before he knew it, a third of the tribe was helping to search, another third was offering to keep a look out around the reservation, and the other third of those who were not able to help were beside themselves. Betty and the kids that looked up to Delsin in particular.
“He was just here. How could something have happened so quick?” Betty had rubbed a hand on her bad knee, as if trying to work out any worry that had manifested as pain. “I just spoke to him before he left.”
“Didn’t Del just leave? Let’s go!” the twins Jessie and Jennie had wanted to go out themselves, but 1) due to them being ten, and 2) getting over pneumonia, the answer had been a firm ‘no’.
Little Stephanie had been in tears thinking that something bad had happened to Delsin. Despite Reggie trying his best not to let the news get to the kids, she had, somehow, been one of the first to have found out. (Her getting worked up had always been detrimental to her health, so Reggie had worried she was going to make herself sick…again.)
It was after eight at night now and there was still no sign of Delsin.
Fetch felt the neon under her skin buzzing with her nerves, while next to her, edges of Eugene’s body kept flickering into pixels. They both had their hands alight with their respective elements for light. Hearing their boyfriend being attacked with no clue as to who did it or why, it was eating at them. They had passed the bus stop that was closest to the reservation. It was the one that went straight to Seattle, the one that Delsin had been planning on taking.
“If he didn’t make it on the bus, and had left the reservation just before disappearing, then he should be somewhere around here, right?” Eugene said.
Reggie hummed, but it wasn’t a good one. Hanging out with Delsin consequently made them spend some more time with the older brother as well; they recognized that hum. “You’re right, but that’s the problem. My officers have looked all over the place starting from the rez and even going past here, but they haven’t found anything yet. Even the tribe has looked all over and come up with squat.”
Fetch swore under her breath. She started to pick up the pace more into the forest, ignoring her name being called behind her. “Then we gotta get movin’! Look even more!” She wanted to burst into neon and just run all over the area to find Delsin, but Reggie would not have been able to keep up. Plus, moving at that speed had the potential to miss something. Searching for a person was an endeavor that required more precision.
And hell, that thought made her frustrated with herself. Neon was the most precise, something she prided herself about. Failing in being precise and not yet finding Delsin made her grit her teeth. She should have been better than this.
Another ten or so minutes later, and they were at the halfway point between the bus stop and the reservation. Reggie’s flashlight and Fetch and Eugene’s power lights met up with flashlight beams coming towards them. It was the other search group. When the met at the middle, the smaller group could see from the look on the larger group’s faces that they had not been successful.
“Yo, Reg,” a man that neither Fetch nor Eugene recognized in a red sweater called out. “We’ve been out here for hours, and I’m not getting a good feeling. You sure he didn’t make it back to Seattle?”
“No,” Fetch answered for him. “Eugene ‘n I were on a video call with him when he was attacked. He hadn’t made it to the bus stop yet.”
A woman who had on a headlamp, leaving her arms free to cross tightly over her chest, swore. Fetch didn’t know her name, but she recognized her from the several times her and Eugene had been over to the reservation. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate this. What if some Bio—excuse me, Conduits came after him?” She directed her question at the present Conduits, “You guys are well known, especially being in the news so much. Do you think there are some Conduits that want to hurt him?”
Eugene shared a look with Fetch. He knew what she was thinking and he didn’t like it. “…P-Possibly. Ah, although most Conduits like us, there were a few that we’ve come across, that um, that r-resent us. Why? I dunno…” Curdun Cay had been hell for the years that Eugene had been there. Even though they were all there for the same reason, being Conduits, some turned on others for several reasons. Eugene shivered, remembering the ways he was used against other Conduits. Maybe he had an idea to Delsin’s kidnapping after all. “Uhh, actually, it could have been a Conduit from Curdun Cay that might have resented Delsin. For power, maybe? Or just for ‘siding’ with non-Conduits.”
“…That…actually make some sense,” Reggie frowned. “Helping Delsin against Augustine, we came across some Conduits that hated non-Conduits for not having powers and resented them for being able to go out in public without worrying about being detained like they did. Almost got an ear blown off by one. Don’t ask,” he said when he saw the man in the red sweater open his mouth.
“So we’re looking for a Conduit?”
“Possibly, but that just makes this even harder now,” Reggie replied. He turned towards Fetch and Eugene, “Do you think this Conduit would have been able to take him out of the immediate area? Should I get in contact with the Seattle precincts?”
It wasn’t improbable that could happen. Fetch could travel via burning neon light in the blink of an eye and Eugene could travel from one point of the city to another as fast as it took to send a text or email through his video. Hell, if they really thought about it, flying up and out of the area could be as easy as—
Fetch blinked.
Eugene froze.
The others saw their expressions and grew concerned. Before anyone could ask, Fetch exclaimed, “Flying up! Up!” She grabbed Reggie’s arm that was holding his flashlight and pointed it into the trees, this time much higher than they had been searching before. “You said that your officers were looking all around and found nothing, right? If we’re looking for a Conduit, we also have to look up high!”
The group looked at her like she graced electricity to mankind. One guy in the back of the group slapped his forehead hard.
Reggie, well-versed in doing so as the Sheriff, took charge in the blink of an eye. “Anyone who can’t zip up the trees, go get some ladders from the sheds and the cannery! Grab some more lanterns and keep an eye out. We don’t know if the Conduit is still here!”
Fetch took it upon herself to put herself into use by starting to manifest neon rings around tree branches and trunks here and there to start lighting up the area. Eugene had already lifted himself into the air, producing floating balls of fizzy, glowing pixels where her neon started to wane. The forested area wasn’t a vast maze, but it was dense enough that it was going to take some time.
“Thanks, you two.”
“No need,” Eugene said from above. In a rare tone of confidence, he declared, “We are going to find him if it takes all night. We have to.”
They had to.
Everyone looked high and low for Delsin, growing more and more stressed as time went on without any sign of him. It was close to eleven at night. Even with the aid of his brother’s partners lighting up the area and searching heights that the non-Conduits couldn’t, there was a fear in the back of Reggie’s mind that Delsin could be…
No, don’t think like that, Reggie! He’s strong and can handle himself in bad situations. He’s alive, he sighed. He has to be. Their family was small, and they had already lost their parents. If he lost Delsin too…He wasn’t sure he would make it. Not without his brother in his life. Exhaustion weighed down his body, and it was during times that he worked this late that he was aware he was getting older. He took a moment to lean against a tree, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. Sleep called him, but it would have to wait.
He felt something wet drop on his head, prompting him to rub it away in irritation. It hadn’t rained today, but the night often brought with it dew that clung to the trees that stuck around through the early morning. The temperature had already dropped when the sun went down, but he knew from checking his weather app earlier that it was going to sink to the mid-thirties tonight. Delsin hadn’t been wearing his thicker hoodie when he had left. If he was out here when it got that cold…Reggie didn’t want to think about it. Conduits run warm…right?
Two drops in quick succession fell onto his head and slid down his hairline to his forehead. “Why didn’t I grab a hat or something?” he said as he wiped the water away. “I’m not Delsin, but cold water…on my…head…”
He trailed off, staring at his hand illuminated by his flashlight.
There was liquid on his hand.
It wasn’t water.
There was red smeared on his skin.
“Oh my god.” His heart leapt into his throat. He wrenched himself out of his leaned position against the tree and snapped his head up. His flashlight beam wildly searched for the source, finding it in three seconds. There, at the very top of the tree at least two stories up, was his brother wrapped in a heavy chain against the trunk. From what Reggie could see from his position at the base of the tree, Delsin was unconscious and dangling from the chain like dead weight—please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. Although he could not make out specific details, he could see injuries all over his face and neck. His vest was gone and his white hoodie…there wasn’t much white left to it.
A dark trail that began from him ran down the tree, just about stopping where Reggie had been standing. Nausea made his stomach churn—that was too much blood. For how long he had been missing, that was more than too much blood. “O-Oh my god, Delsin!”
He called out to the rest of the group, “Guys! Hey, I found Delsin and we need to get him down right now!” Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be able to fly or some shit right now like Delsin or Eugene or Fetch could.
They must have tuned into the panic in his voice because soon a bright burst of pink and orange manifested into Fetch at his side while Eugene coalesced into his physical body, trailing bright blue pixels. Soon after came the rest of the group running to his position. Before any of them could ask where Delsin was, Reggie’s flashlight directed them to him.
“Oh, no,” Eugene breathed, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“D!” Fetch covered her gasp behind her hand.
One of his officers, Markus, swore something that would make a sailor blush and Reggie felt like doing the exact same. “Christ, what did they do to him? How are we going to get him down?” ‘Safely’ was left unsaid yet known to all of them.
“I don’t think our ladders will be able to reach him.”
“Oh my god, how could someone do this to him?”
Marissa turned to Reggie, but he had to squint in order to see her face clearly through the brightness of her headlamp. “If we jostle him too much, we could make any injuries that he has worse. I’ve been studying as a nurse, so I might be able to get him semi-stable enough until we get an ambulance here. And speaking of—”
“On the phone with them now!” one of the other group members said.
Reggie bit his lip. Marissa had a point, but if they didn’t get him down ASAP, then—he didn’t want to think what would happen. “Can either of you two get him down without shaking him up?” he asked Fetch and Eugene.
While being prone to anxiety, Eugene’s nerves were making his it spike hard. His leg was shaking like it was trying to fly off his body. Both Fetch and he could go vertical whenever they wanted; however, the problem was that they weren’t going to be going up a reinforced wall or the side of a building. Trees were flexible if enough force was put upon them and wouldn’t stay still like a concrete wall would. From what he could see, whoever did this to Delsin—Eugene had to swallow a thick anger that was starting to sour his mouth—precariously balanced him in the bend of one of the thicker branches. But, it was high up and an old tree. One wrong move could cause even more damage.
“I, ah,” Eugene started, “I can hover close to him, but my powers aren’t precise like Fetch’s. I’d be able to get up there, but if I tried to break the chain holding him, I…I might end up hurting him.”
Fetch took his hand. Her gaze bore into him with an intensity that he gave back, despite his anxiety. He knew how she was feeling right now: angry, scared, frustrated, worried. “Then fly me up. I’m pretty sure I can balance myself on that branch that’s under him, and you’d just have to be ready to scoop him up.”
He nodded. Determination steadied his limbs enough to kick himself into gear. He manifested his wings behind him, the sharp blue and white washing the surrounding area as thick as the paint Delsin used at home. He pulled on her hand to draw her close. She slung her arm around his shoulder while he secured her using an arm on her waist. They both kept one of their hands free just in case.
Before they took off, Reggie said, “I’m going to go towards the road to direct the EMTs here. The ambulance won’t be able to drive here, so they’re going to have to get here on foot.” And then, tone heavy, “Be careful, please.”
For Delsin, was left unsaid.
“Got it,” Fetch assured him, and with that Eugene glided upwards towards their boyfriend.
It only took a few seconds and then they were right in front of Delsin. Both of them gasped at the state of him, shocked at his appearance—seeing it up close only made him worse. He had the beginnings of deep bruises on his skin, the usual healthy brown tone of it having turned pale. Deep cuts marred his face and his neck, and the ones that weren’t sluggishly leaking were filthy with dried blood and dirt. His beanie was barely clinging on to his head, and underneath, his dark hair was an absolute mess. The brightness of Eugene’s pixels only further illuminated his injuries. There was a large split above his eyebrow, the eye below it swollen like he had taken several punches to that part of his face. His lips were near colorless. There was a thick split at the corner of his mouth. She could see one of his canines. Oh hell. Being this close, she could hear the weak rattling in his chest and see large, shiny dark stains coming from his left side and right shoulder. The stains were the same color as the trail leaking from him down the tree. Blood. So much blood. Too much blood. He looked sick and on death’s door, and it made it hard for Fetch to breathe. She had to bite her lip and forcibly inhale and exhale on counted measures to fend off an anxiety attack that was creeping up on her.
Even fighting against Augustine and D.U.P.s, he’d never looked this bad. This wrong.
“Is..Is he..?”
She reached out a shaky hand to him, and held in a cry at how cold he was. Then, she wanted to let out a sob of relief when she felt a pulse at his neck under her fingers. It was faint and irregular, but a pulse was a pulse and that was what she was going to focus on.
“F-Fetch, Fetch.”
“I know, ‘Gene. God, I-I know. C’mon, we need to help him.”
She felt Eugene nod against her head, using her hair to hide his face for a moment to collect himself. “Right. Right.” Carefully, he deposited her to the thicker branch under the one that was barely holding up Delsin, then positioned himself next to and just under the other man. If Delsin slumped either way, Eugene would be ready with open arms. Under examination, she could see the chain holding him up was looped around him about three times, but not tied or locked in any way. The metal fused together at opposite ends far too clean and seamless to have been dpme with any welding tool.
A metal Conduit’s work, then.
She would be furious later when Delsin was safe and awake.
She would have to focus her powers to a pinpoint release. If she went too fast, the chains would snap instantly, sending Delsin tumbling rough and possibly killing him at the jarring motion. Or worse, she might set the tree and their boyfriend alight if she pushed too much power. The neon Prime took another steadying breath, put her index and middle fingers together, and focused her energy at the tips of her fingers. The air hummed around her as she put all her focus at keeping the beam small, steady, and power levelled. The metal of the chain began to melt and cut under her power slowly. When the thick link was cut about a quarter way through, the chain began to slack. She reached up and held onto Delsin leg to keep him steady while Eugene placed his hands on his shoulders when he started to lean due to the slack.
A few more minutes and she was halfway though.
Smoke began to curl behind the link she was working on, making her swear and tick back her output a bit. But then, it wasn’t enough to cut keep cutting the chain. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her neck.
Jaw clenched, she had to tick up her output once again. The smoke and smell of hot wood met her nose. Shit. It would just take another minute!
But within that minute, the bark lit up.
“Fuck! Eugene!”
“I got him!”
She slashed her fingers to slice the rest of the chain and used the thickness of her jacket sleeve to slap at the flame. The chain clinked and clanked as it unwound like a snake. They heard it crash down on the ground, but that was the least of their worries. Eugene was quicker than a falling chain, and although he bopped in the air with the sudden added weight, it was thanks to his powers that he was able to stay aloft holding Delsin’s larger body. Slowly, carefully, he began to float back to the ground.
Fetch jumped off the branch, phasing into neon as she ran against the bark of an opposite tree. On the ground, she sat on her knees and extended her arms to her boyfriends who were just out of her reach. She steadied Delsin’s legs first, then she and Eugene maneuvered him so that they were both holding and cradling him in their arms.
Eugene’s hands were stained heavily while Fetch’s manicured ones only began to be painted with Delsin’s blood.
The other two people that had stayed to help—the others had followed Reggie towards the ambulance—were forgotten now that Delsin was in their arms. They could have been ghosts for all Fetch and Eugene cared. For the two, it was just the autumn trees around them, reaching for the skies, and the colorful leaves underneath them, cushioning their knees. One of Eugene’s hands clutched the bottom of Fetch’s jacket while Fetch had one of hers fisted around Delsin’s soiled beanie. They both held Delsin close, too afraid that if they loosened their arms, he would fade away.
Eugene could hear the two other people shout to the returning group that they had finally gotten Delsin out of the tree. In the slight distance, the heavy sounds of EMT’s carrying equipment were drawing closer. Between one breath and the next, he could feel shaking. Was Delsin shaking? Had he been doing that before? He looked at his hand that was cradling the back of Delsin’s neck.
Oh.
Oh, that was him who was shaking.
God. A keening noise escaped him. Suddenly, all the energy he had left him, making him hunch over their boyfriend and one of Fetch’s knees, his face pressed against one of the few clean spots on Delsin’s hoodie covering his abdomen. A strong, yet slender hand rubbed his back. He felt the warmth of Fetch’s body press closer—as if that was even possible—to him as she drew him close. Her warmth was such a stark contrast to Delsin’s coldness that it made it him want to start crying. He hated crying.
“Don’t worry, Delsin,” Fetch whispered as she moved her hand to cup Delsin’s injured, pale cheek. “Help is coming, We have you.”
“We have you,” Eugene echoed.
They would make sure he made it, even if it killed them.
Delsin came back to the world, only to be met with stiffness, confusion, and pain. Everything in his body ached and it felt like it was made of limp spaghetti. His lungs hurt with every inhale—nearly worse with every exhale—and when his mouth opened to let out a groan, a sharp pulling at his lip made him groan louder.
Where was he? Why…
“Delsin!” two familiar voices exclaimed.
With herculean effort, he opened his eyes, only to screw them back shut when bright light assaulted them. Oh my god, why is the sun inside? He managed to open them a sliver a minute later, thankfully without the stinging. So, he decided, it was safe to open them further. As he did so, he turned his head in the direction he heard the voices exclaim. He was met with the sight of his partners by his bedside.
Bedside? This wasn’t his home. A white band around his wrist, however, told him everything. The hospital, aw fuck.
“Delsin,” his name was repeated, though this time softer, quieter. Fetch was sitting on the edge of the bed near his knees while Eugene was leaning over the rail, close to his abdomen. What made him frown was the expressions on their faces. Fetch’s updo was frayed and falling out, probably due to her messing with it due to stress; it was one of her anxious tics. She looked like she had been crying, eyes red and itch-swollen. Eugene’s glasses were slightly askew like he had been constantly adjusting him, and a quick glance at one of his hands on the rail revealed chewed cuticles. Nerves, then.
He was confused why they looked like that and why he was in so much pain. He slumped down a little and closed his eyes. Racking his brain, he tried to go over everything that had happened to him that he could remember. He had went to Salmon Bay to visit the tribe and spend a week there with Betty and Reggie, he…he had been walking towards the bus stop that would take him back to Seattle…What else? What else…? Ah, he had been having a video call with his partners until…until…
He let out a low, “Shit.”
Right, he had gotten jumped by some crazy metal Conduit.
A metal Conduit whose sister…Delsin had…killed…
His stomach gave a sudden lurch, and he was barely able to make out a, “’M gonna be sick,” before twisting painfully to the side. Thankfully, a lined trashcan had been already next to his bed because he vomited right into it. Each heave made him want to cry because the pain that burst from his side with each one was going to kill him.
Hands rubbed his back, then gently eased him back against the pillows when he was done. After catching his breath, he accepted the cup of ice chips that was given to him with gratitude. It wasn’t water, but sucking on them would get the acrid taste out of his mouth, just slower. “N-Not a good look for me, huh?”
“Oh, Delsin,” Eugene reached out to take the hand not holding the paper cup, tone a mixture of fondness and something else that made Delsin want to hold him. Or be held. Same thing. “Idiot. You’d look great wearing a garbage bag.”
Quiet, Fetch tacked on, “Or, um, without the garbage bag. I’d take that, too.” He would have blushed if not for sensing her discomfort. He wasn’t used to hearing her so shaky and low. He didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it because he knew he was the cause of it.
“I’m sorry,” he said around a piece of ice.
“The only reason I’m not smacking you on the head is because you’re injured, and I don’t want to risk you losing any more braincells,” she frowned at him. “Shut up, it’s not your fault that you got attacked.”
But it is, though. It’s literally all my fault and more. How would they feel knowing he was a murderer?
“Fetch is right,” Eugene said.
“As always.”
“As always,” the angel continued. “You—you can’t think this is your fault, can you? Del, Del, we saw you get tackled. They wanted to hurt you and they did!” His voice cracked at the end.
Delsin looked away.
He didn’t say anything.
His chest throbbed.
The beeping of the heart monitor slowly picked up the pace.
“D,” Fetch intoned seriously. “Delsin, you know this isn’t your fault, yeah?”
Eugene hooked a finger around Delsin’s pinky, “Delsin?”
They couldn’t know. They-they couldn’t. They would be disgusted and horrified with him, leave him alone, and never want anything to do with him ever again. He wouldn’t blame them—no one would want to be near a murderer. He could neither hold in the tears that welled in his eyes nor the hitch in his chest. They had to know. They wouldn’t stop asking him.
“H-Hey, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t have a choice, and he hated drawing things out like the plague.
Do it like a bandaid. Rip it off and get it over with. “It’s my fault.” And when he saw them open their mouths to interrupt, “No, no, it is. I-I-I, his sister,” he croaked. “His sister is dead. I k-killed her.”
They blinked at him. He ducked his head because he didn’t want to see the rest of their reactions. The room was quiet all but his shaky breaths and the beeping of his heart monitor. A few more moments passed, and it was at this point where he began to cry outright—he just wanted them to hurry up and leave and stop drawing out this silent torture. Please.
He felt a touch on his chin that raised his head. His wet eyes met theirs, Fetch having moved right next to Eugene. “Delsin Rowe, we know you and we know that’s not exactly what happened.”
It was then that he hunched over himself, covering his eyes with his hand and told them what happened. His side protested with every shuddering breath and gasp, and his tears and crying only made his head hurt worse.
His face was brought to rest in Fetch’s neck as she carded her fingers through his messy hair. Eugene wrapped his arms around both Delsin and Fetch, and Delsin felt him press his hand on his non-injured side. Hair tickled against his ear, Eugene’s face pressed on his shoulder. “That’s not your fault,” Eugene said. The conviction in his voice wasn’t something that was heard often. The injured man latched onto it like a lifeline. “That was an accident, Delsin. We know you’re not a killer—you don’t do that, no.”
“You kept me from killing people, D,” Fetch’s voice was like a warm balm, soothing to the cold fear in his chest. “I coulda kept sniping drug dealers like I used to, but you helped me. We’ve seen you fight—you go out of your way to not kill the stupid D.U.P.s, as much as they probably deserve it. That, what happened to that woman, that wasn’t your fault.”
“It was an accident,” Eugene comforted him.
Delsin swallowed something thick in his throat. Everything hurt and he wanted to just not exist like this just for a few minutes.
“Let it out, D.”
“We have you.”
He felt like he was falling apart at the seams. Another wave of sobbing broke through the dam of his lips. It was going to take a long time to believe what they were telling him, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. He just wanted to sink further into their embraces and forget for a while. Forget for a long while. He was a big ball of hurt, but he knew that as long as they had him, he would be okay.
A/N: Good Karma Delsin does his best to do the right thing. He helps people, he disarms assailants, his avoids killing. (I know that if you straight up kill people, you lose karma points.) He is a person who cares, and does so deeply, so something like finding out that he inadvertently killed someone? Oh, that’s gonna fuck with his whole sense of self. He didn’t even kill Augustine even though he really wanted to, but here comes this random Conduit saying he was the cause of his sister’s death? This is something Delsin is going to carry with him for a looong time, poor guy.
Powers and Food Don’t Mix: Part III--Neon Should Have Been a No-No
Disclaimer: I do not own Second Son
Rating: T
Pairing: Delgenetch
Words: 3106
Warning: language
Summary: Last part of the "Powers and Food Don't Mix" mini-series. Time to see what shenanigans Fetch will get up to.
Happy 2019 everyone! Hope the new year brings you all the best! I’ve been writing this chapter on-off in like 3-minute intervals between classes since November. If it seems a bit choppy, that’s why.
(AO3 Link) || (FF.Net Link)
Powers and Food Don’t Mix
Part III: Neon Should Have Been a No-No
April showers bring May flowers, so the saying went.
Fetch wanted to punch whoever came up with that stupid line, because it was May and God seemed to have decided to flood all of Seattle with rain all this month so far. The streets constantly had an inch or two of water rushing down them, there were worms everywhere on the sidewalks, and the mosquitoes seemed to be achieving plague-levels more suited for the Bible. Just the thought of the mess that was outside made the mosquito bites on her body itch with an intense fervor. As she scratched her freckled legs, folded just under her on the couch, she looked out the window at the downpour outside. As much as she wanted to go outside, breathe some fresh air, and speed over buildings with a neon trail behind her, she knew she really shouldn’t be out if she didn’t have to. The neon inside her wanted a release, and she could only draw but so many neon doodles in the air.
Despite that, she pitied anyone who had to be out right now in this clusterfuck called weather.
Which meant she pitied Delsin and Eugene.
The three had run out of most of the food in their fridge and some of the various medications that they needed. Their non-perishable food had only lasted them but so long—plus, all of them had begun to complain about eating ramen and canned chicken like eight days in a row—and they had forgotten to call for refills for their meds before the storm had started—several long nights smothering DUP uprisings throughout the city left their minds very preoccupied.
Adulting was hard, dammit.
Before the suggestion of rock-paper-scissors could have popped up about who would be the poor bastard to brave the weather, Eugene of all people had volunteered himself, much to Fetch and Delsin’s surprise. He had said explained to them, through an embarrassed stutter and hands fiddling with his hoodie sleeves, that he had been working with his therapist with his social anxiety and he wanted to try shopping out in public. ‘The weather will keep most people inside, so the pharmacy shouldn’t have many people at all,’ he had said.
And, as proud of her anxiety-ridden boyfriend as she was, she had immediately protested it, claiming that he’d probably drown as soon as he stepped out of the apartment.
She was met with a, ‘W-Well, that’s why I’m bringing Delsin with me, of course.’
‘Wait, I am?’
‘Of course you are.’
And so here she was. On the couch. By herself. Thank goodness the power hadn’t gone out, otherwise she might just launch herself out the window just to achieve some sort of relief from the boredom that was plaguing her. Before she could entertain that train of thought any further, the rumbling in her stomach reminded her that her body actually needed food and couldn’t survive off of monotony and rain.
She shuffled to the kitchen, her fuzzy socks allowing an even glide against the tiled floor, and peeked into the fridge. The pitiful show of food that they have left were a few eggs, a little bit of milk, and half a stick of butter. Oh, and some various condiments. Her lips pursed of their own accord and she had to refrain from glaring at the butter like it offended her.
What the hell am I going to make with this?
Fetch took a moment to think before peering over her shoulder, scouting the area is if someone was spying on here. She knew she was the only one here, but she just couldn’t risk it…With a jut of her hip, she swung her body into a smooth glide across the kitchen to the pantry, stopping with a jazzy twirl. If Delsin or Eugene caught her moving like she was in a musical, she would never hear the end of it. But hey, what the hell. A quick check of the pantry was a sad result just like the fridge, nothing much except for a box of pancake mix, about two packs of ramen, and more canned chicken. At this point, all the canned chicken was going to make her scream.
I can probably do pancakes, she thought as she snatched the box from the cupboard. There’s just enough for all of us, and pancakes are one of Gene’s faves. I wanna make him something nice after that cake-angel debacle. She laughed to herself. Even if it was months ago, I think he’ll like this.
That in mind, she set a skillet on the stove to heat as she began mixing the ingredients in their one, yes one, mixing bowl. Once the pancake mix was to a pretty good consistency, she flicked some butter in the pan to get it slick and then poured some of the batter in the pan. Immediately, the warm scent of butter and breakfast cake wafted into the kitchen.
A feeling of nostalgic warmth curled inside of her.
For a moment, she was reminded of lazy Sunday mornings when Brent had looked after her when they were younger, much younger. When their parents had been off doing—well, she actually couldn’t remember now—stuff, Brent had always looked after her. Sunday mornings had meant sleeping in and fun pajamas, hers being a floppy shirt and pants of matching cat patterns while Brent’s had been simple black fleece pants combined with some band shirt. Some mornings had seen the rise and fall of the two separate Great Walker Armies, one general’s weapon of choice being pancake flour while the other’s trump card being eggs. Other mornings had been quiet, tame. ‘Come here and let my get you, you little punk!’ Brent would heckle at her as she ducked behind a counter. ‘You and that hair of yours makes you look like a punk!’ she would aim right back. As fun as the food fights had been, Fetch’s favorite had always been the quiet mornings—the lull, the easy state of just being, where nothing else mattered. The last day she had spent in that house had started with one of those lazy Sunday mornings…
The rising steam tickling her nose brought her attention to the pancake she needed to flip.
Her wrist-flick to turn the pancake was quick. Her sigh, much less so.
The warmth that the memory brought her was an old, threadbare blanket of her childhood, but the warmth that radiated around her here in this kitchen was a fresh thick quilt pulled straight from the dryer. Encompassing, cozy, and here.
One pancake out of the heat and batter in.
Here was this kitchen, here, where she lived with Delsin and Eugene. Here was good and now and rain and pancakes. Most importantly, here meant that she was safe.
Two more pancakes done. More batter into the pan.
If she had the ability to zip into the past and tell her younger self that this is what her life would be like, there was a certainty that her younger self would not have believed her. Life with no Brent? Not possible. Living with people that didn’t care she had…abilities? Well, she thought her parents wouldn’t mind and look where that landed her and Brent. Living with two men who loved her and would do anything for her? That would not have even been a possibility in her mind. Being happy without constantly thinking about what was going to happen to her? Younger Abigail would not have been able to come up with an answer.
Pancake out, batter in. Flip, wait. Pancake out, more batter in.
Fetch thought hard about where she was in her life today. Thought about her boyfriends, about Delsin and Eugene. My boys, she thought as her lips crooned into a smile. Those two were such idiots sometimes, as most guys were, but she wouldn’t trade them for anything. Delsin with his stupidly handsome face and nice hair and good heart and love for his tribe and family and amazing art skills, and Eugene with his adorable dorkiness and his constant battle with his anxiety and his particular knowledge of video games and his cute everything. My boys.
More pancakes into the plate to join their buttery buddies.
Rain beat against the windows like an army of furious drummers. Delsin and Eugene should have been back by now—the fact that they weren’t was beginning to make her worry.
Not that she would admit it.
Just as she was debating on calling them, a loud thump against the door made her startle and almost drop the plate of finished pancakes she was holding. The plate was deposited on the table, and without conscious thought, a small charge of hot neon collected in the palm of her hand.
“Delsin, hurry! The bags are about to slip out of my hands!”
Another thump and a jangle of keys, then a swear. “Wait, wait, aaaand okay!” The lock clicked. “Finally got the right one.”
Fetch let out a relieved sigh, slumping against the counter. The neon in her palm dissipated into pink and purple vapors. Hearing the two voices she was intimately familiar with was like a balm that eased the sudden tension that had collected in her arms and shoulders. With the three of them being high-profile conduits, they could never be too careful with how the DUP just wouldn’t disappear. Too many close calls…
First came in Delsin—it took all of Fetch’s will not to burst out laughing—looking like he drowned in a river. His beanie was so weighed down with water than he had to keep adjusting his eyebrows so the bottom of it would stop falling in his eyes. Bending over to set down the groceries, his rain jacket appeared to vomit the water that was left on it on the floor. His jeans were no better, looking like a second skin. (Not that she was complaining.)
Next was Eugene, not looking better in any way, shape, or form. The poor water-logged angel looked so uncomfortable that Fetch just wanted to give him a hug. He looked only marginally better after setting down the groceries he was carrying. Despite that, from the way he was wincing every time he took his step—and from the distinct squish she kept hearing—Fetch was sure that he had his own personal pond in each of his boots.
“Sorry about the mess, Fetch,” Eugene looked sheepish as he wrenched off his rain boots with only minor difficulty. “It’s, ahh, such a disaster out there, you know? And we just wanted to, uh, just hurry up and get home.”
Any other day, she would be cross at them for all the water all over the floor, but given the utter mess that was outside, it wasn’t a big deal. At least it’s not mud, she thought.
“No biggie,” she said as she grabbed the groceries to start putting them away. “It’s biblical outside, Genie, so I’d be more surprised if you two didn’t come home looking like two Aquamen.” (1)
Delsin took this as an opportunity to add, “I don’t know, Fetch,” he grinned as he poked Eugene’s bicep, “our angel’s been getting pretty fit here. These arms of steel weren’t here last time we checked.”
The blush she caught on her skinny boyfriend’s face before he ducked his head, along with his shy giggle, made her smile. After being with her and Delsin for so long, Eugene had expressed a desire to work on his body. Although still quite thin, light jogging and some basic exercises a few times a week had begun improving his body tone. Being compared to such a fit superhero made the gamer acknowledge his own hard work and progress.
“Y-You guys are too much,” was all he could say.
Fetch hummed, throwing a pointed glance to the kitchen. “Weeell, I guess if I’m just too much, then I probably shouldn’t share these pancakes I made, should I?”
As soon as the word ‘pancakes’ was uttered, a blonde head snapped to attention as its owner shuffled in placed like an excited kid. “Wait, wait, wait!” He cleared his throat, trying not to look as excited as he felt. “I mean, you don’t, you know, have to just take them a-all for yourself. Yeah, we, uh, D-Delsin! Delsin and I are, are more than willing to share. Right, Delsin?”
“Oh yeah, more than willing,” he humored Eugene. Only way to get their introvert this excited was videogames and good food. The option for right now was good food.
She snorted. “Go get dried off, you two. We can clean up the water after we eat.”
With that, her two boys scurried off faster than she thought was necessary, but hey, food made almost anyone get their asses in gear. Once she heard the rattle of the shower pipes kick themselves alive, she meandered back into the kitchen to the buttery stack of goodness. The more she stared at the food, the more she thought it needed something. Just something. The restlessness that had been present for a while made a comeback, neon practically squirming underneath her skin to get out—and that’s when she realized what it needed.
A quick look over her shoulder and she channeled her energy into her fingertips. If anyone else were present, they would have probably warned her against what she was about to do, especially considering the evidence of the last two incidents. But, hell, she wasn’t just anyone. Unlike Tweedledee and Tweedledum with their energy all over the place, she was a sniper. She was precise, exact, and could do exactly what she needed to do.
No more, no less.
The release of energy from her fingertips felt wonderful, even if it wasn’t as much as her body needed. What she needed was a long circuit around the city, zipping around buildings and highways, but it was satisfactory. A curve here, a streak there. A little more heat in this spot, and a little less in another spot. Before she knew it, the image she had in her head was translated on the stack of pancakes, smiling back at her and shimmering with a pleasant blue and purple.
“Alright,” she took in her work. “That’s that. Just gotta wait for the boys.” A glance down at her batter-flecked clothes told her she had to do something else, however. “Right after I get outta these leggings and shirt.”
After going to the bedroom, she shucked her dirtied clothes in the hamper in the corner—it bounced off the mound peeking erupting from the rim and fell to the floor—before moving to the closet. Nice blouse, nicer blouse, hoodie that was too warm for now, Eugene’s ratty hoodie, Delsin’s favorite white hoodie, three of Delsin’s flannel shirts, several of Eugene’s comic t-shirts, and—there it was. It took a bit, but she finally found her cozy t-shirt among all the Delsin’s and Eugene’s things. Surprisingly, all that was in the closet other than hoodies were only a few shirts and pants.
Damn, they really needed to do laundry…
Luck was on her side today as she was able to find a (only slightly wrinkly) pair of shorts that had been smushed in the corner of one of the dresser drawers. Once pulled on, she gave the drawer, and its companions, a long look. A lone, strangled sock wanted freedom from the drawer it was peeking out of. Yeah, she thought, I think we really need to clean and organize in here.
“Hey, uh, Fetch?” She heard Delsin call from the kitchen.
“Yeah?”
There was a hesitant pause before, “What’s up with these pancakes?”
Fetch’s frowned in confusion, pulling her new clean shirt over her head as she exited the bedroom. Delsin’s voice sounded more perplexed than it did interested. Rounding the corner, she could see him and Eugene at the table staring at the glowing stack in front of them.
“I like your doodle, i-it’s really cute,” Eugene gave her a shy compliment. “But did you, um, did you add food dye or something to the pancakes?”
It was this question that made her look more closely at the pancakes she made. The first thing she noticed was the neon doodle she made of Delsin and Eugene, Del in the purple and Gene in the blue. The perplexing observation, on the other hand, was the fact that the pancakes had turned an odd swirl of her signature pink, purples, and blues. They looked tie-dyed with food coloring.
Well, that wasn’t normal.
“…I swear it wasn’t like that when I made them,” she muttered. She glanced at the fork in Eugene’s hand before plucking from his person, ignoring his ‘hey!’. “Time to see if they’re still edible,” she remarked a little too casually as she popped a piece in her mouth. Delsin and Eugene’s protesting cries were just a hair too late.
If she died from being poisoned by her own neon, then she was going to haunt these two out of pure spite.
It was a tense moment in the room as her boyfriends stared at her with wide eyes, searching for the littlest detail that she might be dying. Such wonderful guys, she snickered to herself. If I keel over, least I know they got me.
“So, hey,” she announced with the necessity of a severe cold, “I’m not dead. Food’s not gonna kill you, so you should eat.” Their breaths of relief shouldn’t have been this amusing.
After nabbing a new fork from the drawer for Eugene, Delsin slumped on the table. His own fork was pointed at her in warning. “Christ, Fetch! I swear, you’re going to kill us one of these days. If it’s not from stress, it’s going to be from something else, God.” He did take a moment to lean over and kiss her, which she appreciated. “But, anyway, thanks again.”
Mouth full of pancake, Eugene couldn’t help himself. “But how did you not make the food b-blow up or something?” (She was fluent in Full Mouth-ese.) Desperation for an answer shouldn’t have been this funny.
She laughed before kissing his temple as his mouth was too syrupy at the moment. “Guess I just got that skill, ya know?” The neon decorating really should have been a big no-no, because it gave her all the more reason to brag about how much better she was at using her powers with food.
The side effect of the food turning colors depending on the neon, however, was not left unteased.
Published: 1/5/19
(1) Jason Momoa’s portrayal of Aquaman. If you don’t know, look him up because he’s very Beefy
Powers and Food Don't Mix: Part II--Video Angels Don’t Agree with Confectionary
Disclaimer: I do not own Second Son
Rating: T
Warning: language
Words: 3054
Summary: Continuation of why using your powers on or around food is a bad idea.
Wowie, look who’s back after not writing an infamous fic in years. Hope you guys enjoy it!
(AO3 Link) || (FF.Net Link)
Powers and Food Don’t Mix) Part II: Video Angels Don’t Agree with Confectionary
Eugene breathed out a large sigh as he wrung his hands together, staring at the conquest in front of him.
He could do this.
He knew he could do this.
He had done many things more complicated and difficult than this, including training his powers, saving Seattle, and helping Betty with the kids running around the Longhouse when there had been no one else. That had been an incredibly trying day that left him even more drained than if he’d used his powers to charge hundreds of TVs.
No, no, he was going to have to do this, it was too important to be left alone.
The challenge sitting in front of him on the counter was in the multiple forms of bowls, mixing spoons, a flexible spatula, a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, a container of oil, a small container of frosting, a bowl of strawberries, and a box of cake mix. The miscellaneous ingredients loomed on the counter as if they were mocking him, waiting for him to mess something up even before beginning.
If he could not do anything else today, the one thing that he must accomplish was making a cake for Fetch. It was her birthday, and Eugene wanted to do something special for one of the few important people in his life. Despite getting off to a rocky start when they initially met in Curdun Cay, the Neon Conduit was something that Eugene just could not live without. Thus, he wanted to make this cake very special for her to remind her just how much he cared. She had mentioned through offhand comments whenever they passed a bakery or had something sweet for dinner that she loved strawberry cake as it was not only her favorite flavor, but something she and Brent had shared a delight for as well.
With that it mind, how could he not make it for her?
Now, the only…minor problem in his way was that he had never actually baked a cake before. It could not be that hard seeing as how his babysitter had made plenty of treats for him when he was very young since his mother had been away on frequent business trips. The cake box had very simple, clear instructions on it, so Eugene figured he could at least manage to follow them. Even if he were to mess something up by accident, he had over two hours to fix it before his partners got home. Under Eugene’s request to get Fetch out of the apartment for a while, Delsin had taken her out to a showing of Les Misérables at their local theater (with discounted tickets). The two guys had come to realize their girlfriend held a love for plays only matched with her love for books, so the play was a no-brainer.
Taking a fortifying breath as he rolled up his sleeves, he began to follow the instructions step by step. “First, preheat the oven to 400 degrees…”
Time flew by, and after messing up the first bowl of batter with an egregious amount of oil, making the batter too runny and goopy, Eugene waited for the correctly mixed version to finish baking in the oven. He glanced at the clock as he was cleaning up the dishes he used. It read two o’clock, which meant that the play should be over in a half hour which in turn gave him an additional half hour until his partners got home. An hour for the cake to finish baking, cool off, and then decorate—nothing he could not handle.
The batter catastrophe was not the worst thing that had happened, but he was trying to push away the memory of smashed shell-corpses of at least half the carton of eggs he just didn’t have the hand to crack the right way.
The mushed remains of the few strawberries he attempted to core had also been bleeding out sticky juice on the counter. He had made sure to Google how to core them properly after the failed attempt…
Just as he rinsed the dish and put in in the drying rack, an alarm chimed form his phone, signaling to him that the cake was done. “I don’t think I could have asked for better timing,” he grinned as he dried his hands and grab two potholders. He turned off the oven and removed the cake, sliding it onto a serving dish then doing the same to the small sample size he had baked as well. (His babysitter had always told him to make a small sample to taste just in case anything went wrong.) He gave it a look-over to make sure there wasn’t anything terrible about it. And, to be fair, he did not think he did a half-bad job!
But…although it looked fine—minus the slight uneven tilt to one of the corners—the main thing that had to be perfect was the taste.
It took a minute of swishing his hand over the sample size to get it to cool down, but afterwards it was safe to not burn his mouth. Holding the mini cake in his palm, he swallowed nervously before taking a bite.
It was…great! In fact, it could have been called delicious, even!
After finishing what was in his mouth and then the rest in his hand, he heaved the greatest sigh of relief. All the worry that had flooded his body since earlier this afternoon left him in a giant gush and he slumped against the counter. Replacing all the anxious feelings were little thrills of joy and excitement that little flurries of pixels humming around his shoulders. Holy moly, I actually made it taste good! I can’t wait for Fetch and Delsin to get here!
In order not to mess anything up, he patiently waited for the cake to cool off while he finished cleaning what he had used.
He would not mess up this cake.
With about twenty minutes to go until his partners got back, the novice baker began what was widely known to be the most fun part about making desserts: decorating the cake. “Alright, alright, how should I do this?” he muttered to himself with the container of cake frosting in hand. A moment of contemplation passed before he shrugged and grabbed the flexible spatula. He began frosting the cake with the white cream cheese frosting, doing his best to cover every surface. If there had been an outside perspective, they surely would have commented on the complete concentration that was lining his face: brows pinched, eyes squinted behind glasses, tongue poking out of mouth, and shoulders tense.
Once the cake was frosted—not the best-looking thing as he couldn’t get the surface texture all smooth and pretty like he wanted—he tried making some sort of flower shapes on the top. While he got the dollops somewhat even like he wanted, they did not look like flowers in any way, shape, or form. His stomach twisted and his hands shook a little as he thought of Fetch’s reaction to the poor looking things, Oh no, oh no, they look so baaaad. She’s probably gonna hate it! I already started though, maybe I could redeem it…
Eugene thought back to the fancy cakes he’d seen in bakery windows and the pictures Fetch linked him on social media. With a new idea in mind, he shoved the frosting to the side and picked up the bowl of correctly cored and halved strawberries. Hearts! He had to make hearts with the fruit! He slowly placed the strawberries on the frosting dollops he had made in order to make them look like hearts. Lastly, he placed the six largest ones in the middle to make three really big heats. Three hearts for the three of them: Fetch, Delsin, and himself.
He stepped back, taking in his creation.
He guessed it looked fine…if he subtracted the slightly uneven height, the almost scratchy looking appearance of the icing, and the jaggedly cut strawberries. There was something missing to piece it all together, something that would make it look (mostly) perfect. A memory of the Akomish Days festival flitted in front of his eyes and—
—Could that work? Could he do that? Delsin’s attempt at ‘helping’ the food last time had made a disaster, but surely Eugene had more finite control than Delsin did. Right?
Putting the bowl down, he glanced at his hands.
Then stared at the cake.
Looked at his hands once again.
That settle’s it then. He closed his eyes. Concentrating on the hum of his powers within him, he directed the pixels to hover just above the cake. In his mind’s eye, he saw the typical images of his angels, fully armored and intimidatingly powerful, and the pics of cute stuff Fetch liked to send. Twisting his fingers just so, he could see and feel his angels changing into something less frightening and cuter. When he figured he got it right, he opened up his eyes to see three baby versions of his angels hovering over the cake. These angels were the size of half a fist and had much less armor than his regular ones. They watched him with pupil-less blue eyes that glowed behind the helmets that were obscuring their faces.
He blinked.
They blinked back.
I might cry, this is just too adorable. What have I done? It was perfect, then. Just as he was about to give them the order to stay on the cake and behave, he heard the lock turning to the front door of the apartment. “We’re home!” Fetch called out.
An accompanying voice commented in a low voice, “I smell something sweet. Do you think he bought a new candle or something?”
The rest of their conversation was drowned out by his panic. “Oh shit!” he hissed as he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. He knew Fetch loved cute pictures of food before it got eaten, so he was quick to snap one before he shoved his phone back into his pants and nearly flew out of the kitchen.
The sight that he was met with—the one that stopped him right in his tracks—when he entered the living room was something he would never get tired of seeing: the rare occasion that Fetch and Delsin were dressed up, looking like something out of a magazine. The pink-haired women had her hair down and styled to the side, which showed off her glowing face. Her dangling earrings glittered, matching the bracelet that decorated the hand that was on Delsin’s shoulder to keep her balance to remove her black heels. The lavender dress that she wore was something out of season—too thin for the cold weather of February—but looked amazing on her. The shin-length fabric swished around her, giving her an even more vibrant energy.
The only other person that could have matched her was Delsin, who looked equally stunning as well. Beanie gone for a change, his dark brown hair, that was almost as dark as ink, flowed down and brushed his shoulders. A small braid curved from his temple towards the back of his head, something that Eugene was aware that Fetch did in order to keep his hair out of his face. While he was not wearing brilliant jewelry like Fetch, Delsin’s warm brown eyes and dazzling smile were bright enough to make up for it. The black vest and grey dress shirt hugged his frame, and Eugene tried to ignore just how perfect the muscles of his arms looked as one helped Fetch balance and the other was crooked to hold their jackets. Not only that, but it was just not fair how well the light blue tie looked on him, contrasting against his dark skin and wrapping around his neck, almost as if it was wrapping him up like a present.
Oh fuck, Eugene had it baaaad.
“Oh my gosh,” the laughing voice of his girlfriend broke him out of his staring, “I wish you woulda been there, ‘Gene!”
Delsin added, grinning at him, “I’m with her, but I know you’ve been doing your own thing here, right?” He emphasized his question with a quick wink.
Lord, he almost forgot the cake with the two models standing in front of him.
“Y-Yes! Yeah, I was!” He walked toward his partners, giving them each a kiss and Fetch a really squishy hug. “To be truthful, I had Delsin take you out because I wanted to work on my gift for you while you were gone.”
Pulling back from the embrace, her eyes widened in surprise and then glee. “Ohhh, ‘Gene, you’re such a sweetie! Lemme see it, lemme see it!”
He and Delsin laughed at her excitement. “Okay, but you have to close your eyes first,” he smiled. Eugene took her hand and began guiding her towards the kitchen and Delsin took that as his cue to cover her eyes. “It’s not the greatest, but—”
“Oh shut up, Angel Boy,” Fetch interrupted. “Whatever it is, I’m gonna love it because you made it. I know you don’ like doin’ things outta your comfort zone, so I ‘ppreciate it already.”
Delsin chimed in, “Now with a point like that, I can’t disagree with the lady?”
With that decided, he stopped at the opening of the kitchen with his back blocking the cake. He wanted to see Fetch’s reaction first. With a nod Delsin removed his hands and Fetch blinked at the light change. Eugene pressed a kissed to her lips again. “Happy birthday,” he grinned as he stepped aside and gestured with his hand like a magician, directing her attention to what was on the kitchen table.
The silence was not something he was expecting.
Neither were the faces they were making.
Now, he knew his dessert was not something that would take one’s breath away, but the almost blank staring at the cake was something that was making him anxious and uncomfortable. Oh no, it probably sucked so much. They probably thought it was horrible.
“Uhhh, Eugene,” Fetch didn’t take her eyes off what she was staring at but used her hand to turn him. “You sure this is what you wanted to show me?”
When he turned around, he nearly screamed. In front of him was the cake he so painstakingly spent hours making completely ruined by the mini angels he had created to complete it. One angel was using a tiny sword to cut the strawberries into even smaller pieces. The second angel was digging a hole through the middle of the cake to place itself in, and the last angel was freefalling to make cannonballs as if the cake was a pool. The whole thing that Eugene had worked on was now a pile of mushed cake, smeared frosting, and diced strawberries.
He was so embarrassed, frustrated, and upset all at the same time. His face was on fire, but he was not sure from which emotion. He gave an angry flick of his hand, dispelling the pixelly troublemakers, before throwing up his hood and pulling the drawstrings to shut out his face. God, just smite me here. “I’m so sorry, Fetch!” he began rambling as he tugged on the drawstrings even tighter. “It was supposed to be a birthday cake for you! It was a strawberry cake since I know that’s your favorite flavor, and I wanted it to be perfect because you deserve it, and now it’s all ruined and you can’t even—”
He was cut off when fingers gently pulled at the little hole that his hair was puffing out of. He let go of the strings as the opening of the hood came more open to reveal his flushed face. Through damp eyes he saw Fetch smiling at him, and it was then that he felt his brain stop working. “You silly thing. I didn’t lie when I said that I would love anything you made.”
“…But it’s totally ruined,” he frowned. “It barely looks like a cake anymore.”
“It may not have the looks, but I’m pretty sure it tastes like one.” The sound of a drawer closing pulled their attention to Delsin who had three spoons in his hand. Walking back to them, he used his arm to drape over their shoulders and guide them towards the table, pulling out the chairs for them to sit. “Now, I’m not expert at baking—that’s all Betty—but from what I have done, I know that taste is a big factor. Let’s not put all your hard work in the trash, yeah?”
Eugene slumped over the table. “I guess so. If you guys don’t like the taste, I have a pic of what it used to look like if you want to see it.” He fished out his phone and pulled of the photo, showing it to his partners. What was the use, anyway? It didn’t look like that anymore.
“Oh my god, Eugene! It looks so precious, I love it!”
“Holy crap, man. You did such a great job!”
He blinked, straightening up from his slump just a bit. “Really?”
“Hell yeah!” She beamed as she took a scooped up a big spoonful of the cake mush. “And since the cake is for me, I’ll be the judge of whether or not it tastes good.” With baited breath, they watched as she shoved the entire spoonful into her mouth. A moment later, she gave him the biggest kiss, smearing lipstick and frosting on his cheek. “I love it so much. Thank you, Genie.” With that, she began to shovel even more cake into her mouth without so much as breathing in-between spoonfuls.
“Hey, hey, wait a minute!” Delsin exclaimed as he lightly whapped his spoon against her bare shoulder. “Stop eating, we haven’t sung Happy Birthday to you, yet! You’re going to mess up all your birthday karma and choke too! Plus leave us some!”
As he stared at the two of them, Fetch hoarding the cake mush and Delsin trying to get her to stop, Eugene felt a small smile bloom on his face. The cake might have been a semi-disaster, but at least he had this moment with his two favorite people in the world on Fetch’s special day.
Published: 3/6/18
A/N: Our angel boy is just so damn in love, he has it bad. Someone give him a medal for “Great Boyfriend”
Sorry I haven’t been as active! So here’s a thing (implied Delgenetch):
Delsin
Nonbinary artist who loves the environment and birds! Chill with using he/him pronouns, but also likes using they/them pronouns too.
Panromantic-Pansexual: doesn’t understand why people find this confusing? He’s dating people for their personalities and quirks and traits, not what’s in their pants or whatever.
Can be a switch in bed, but loooves to sub with the right partner(s)
Reg gave him their mother’s old plated earrings as a recent birthday gift. He loves to wear them when he’s feeling more fem. Will rock long, oversized cardigan sweaters when feeling fem as well.
Fetch
Lovely trans-lady who can draw the most even eyeliner wings on the planet, omg. Uses she/her pronouns
Panromantic-Demisexual: she loves people so much, but it takes her some time to like them in the sexual way. Loves cuddling and reading together.
Likes to take charge in bed, but will most def be very attentive to her partner(s)
Like Del, she loves oversized jackets, but will most definitely combo them with boots and skin tight shorts (and tights if cold enough). Boots all year, exceptions only for bare feet in the summer or flip-flops in the sand.
Eugene
This shy, blonde angel is cis-male, and uses he/him pronouns. Can (and will if he’s comfy enough) talk to you about video games all day everyday.
Biromantic-Asexual: he really loves girls and nonbinary people. Will fall hard for whoever he likes but is very sex-repulsed. He will “take care” of himself he he absolutely has to, but really dislikes doing it.
Will go tinker or watch a movie or something when his partner(s) is(are) doing anything sexual
Even though he missed some nerd-culture due to being locked up in Curdun Cay, he caught up quickly and is the font of all nerd things. Video games? Yes. Comics? Yes. Movies? Of course. His wardrobe, of course, reflects this as he wears a lot of graphic tees and his assortment of Star Wars underwear and socks.
