Hmm, now that I've yapped about some suggested Penny ships (Which hey, ask box is always open to more), why not do one I've been stewing on for a while?
Amarys/Penny
Let's consider it a lil' bonus extension of the previous Amarys and Penny friendship posts and go into the idea of "What could a relationship between these two possibly be like?"
First off, this is a total oblivious slowburn city. I'm talking they'll know each other for months before any semblance of a crush could appear. Or, if there is a crush, it's probably on Penny's side and she buries it deep, deep down. Like, "BB academy would be jealous of how far down it goes" deep. Negative confidence in her feelings girlie and someone who's not great at expressing herself is a messy early combo.
And once Amarys has a crush on her back? Well, she knows the simplest path is forward, so she just needs to say it!
... to say it!...
...
...Oh no.
Alas, though she knows how she wants to proceed, actually accomplishing that task would prove a little more tricky than she thought. At least the others would totally be in her corner supporting her... And stopping Drayton from just waltzing on over and confessing for Amarys.
I imagine the confession would come when the situation is out of Amarys' hands. Maybe someone else is taking an interest in Penny and all of a sudden, all Amarys sees is her laid out plans for the future going up in flames, and she just decides then that she can't afford to hesitate and thus asks Penny out. Needless to say, Penny panics and inadvertently reveals her own feelings, which Amarys is quick to latch on to like "...Ah, this simplifies matters."
GF acquired! I imagine Amarys very quickly wants to sit down so they can talk through their expectations for the relationship, how to best handle the long distance aspect, what their goals for the future are... It feels a bit like a job interview in Penny's eyes, but Amarys' eye for detail is something she appreciates, so she goes along with it. They hash out some details together in a very productive first date, with Amarys managing to snag their first kiss quickly with an excuse of them being "Behind schedule." Of course, the bright red tint to her face fools absolutely nobody (except Penny) about why she actually wanted a kiss.
Though they can't meet in person every day, they do agree to date night once a week virtually, where they will seek things to do together online, which usually results in watching a show together. Penny always enjoys hearing Amarys' analysis of certain story themes, which usually spurs the hacker to talk more than usual... Something Amarys is aware of and keeps doing because she actually really loves hearing Penny chatter away about things she's passionate about.
It might actually surprise people how chatty these two can be for how quiet they typically are. I like to imagine they just have that energy around each other where even if they get tired of talking to other people sometimes, they almost always have plenty of energy to talk with each other. Not in a loud way, but in that quiet sense where the conversation barely goes above a whisper in volume, just a lovely soft chat with tons of technical jargon anyone listening in will struggle to understand.
Funnily enough, though I can see Amarys making Penny follow rules a bit more (Get in the uniform, nerd) I can also see Penny do the opposite with Amarys and getting her to loosen up a little. Neither of them are trying to radically change the other, far from it, but I can see Penny spurring Amarys to a little bending of the rules sometimes. Amarys will stand there with her usual somewhat stony face while talking about how thrilling it can be to break the rules... The rule breaking in question being the slightest modification of her uniform to include a tiny star patch on the inside of her uniform near her heart.
Also Peony? 100% support, he thinks Amarys is a riot. And while Penny is initially terrified at the idea of the two meeting because what if them dating changes the dynamic between her ad and Amarys, she's surprised to find the girl preening under the compliment. Just softly muttering under her breath "I'm a riot..."
I think this is a very interesting concept for a rarepair, and maybe one day I'll poke at it more, but I'm happy with just leaving it at a text post for now. And if I hafta give this ship a name... I dunno, Starry Spectacles? Maybe people will have some other cute idea for it.
Mountain thinks back on his life before the pack and meeting Aether. He and Swiss make plans to clear the air between them.
I'm glad to see several of you were happy to see this back!! I plan to have this finished by the end of the year, then I should have more time to dedicate to writing my thesis Lee's fandom mini bang! That's not to say I won't post any more ficlets in this universe if I have ideas, more just to set your expectations for this not being another 100k monster!!!
Rating: T
Content: past discussions of nasty familial expectations
Words: 5031
@ashthewaterghoul @bloodfin @cosmicseafoam @everybodyshusband @jazz-bazz @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan @midnight-moth @nefariousghoul @papaslittlesunshine @zombiequeen777 @0-miles-away please message me if anyone wants in/out of the tag list!! I won't be offended, I know notifs can be overwhelming, especially in stressful times <33
Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3
Read below, or on AO3!
Swiss and the ghoulettes reached the Abbey a short while later, and were soon directed by an officious quintessence ghoul to start unfolding tables to lay food out on. Grumbling slightly at the boring task, they each hefted a piece of hinged furniture up from a pile and began dragging them outside. From Swiss’ position setting up, he had an almost direct line of sight to Mountain. The earth ghoul was sweating slightly, arm muscles flexing as he continued to drag the countless hay-bales around. Swiss desperately tried not to stare – he was supposed to be upset with the earth ghoul after all – but struggled to tear his eyes away.
However, Sunny chose that moment to let the table she was setting up purposely fall to the ground with a tremendous clatter, making all the ghouls around turn to see where the noise was coming from. All except one. Mountain's eyes remained fixed on the bale in front of him. That confirmed it: he knew Swiss was there, but he was purposefully ignoring him.
Swiss finally got the latch on his trestle table into place, and with that stomped back towards the Abbey, ignoring the calls from the quintessence ghoul in charge that he wasn't finished here yet. Sunshine gave chase, growling slightly at the ghoul as she passed. Swiss paced aimlessly along the hallways of the Abbey, heading nowhere in particular except for away.
Mountain could see Swiss in his peripheral vision. He had appeared in the clearing not long ago, flanked by ghoulettes on all sides like a protection detail. The stony faces they wore only worried him further – what could Swiss have possibly said to them? He wished the festival was being held inside; it would be so much easier to continue avoiding Swiss in the maze of hallways and passages of the Abbey. Alas, Cirrus had predicted fine weather a long time ago, and so outside they were.
Across the wide-open space, Mountain thought he could see Swiss watching him. He didn't dare look up, not even when a table near him collapsed with an almighty crash, but his skin still burned with the intensity of Swiss' gaze. Mountain didn't know if he wanted him to be watching him or not.
He considered going over and speaking to Swiss – he wouldn't normally think twice about doing so, seeking the multi ghoul out at every opportunity – but his tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, like it would choke any words that attempted to pass it. The pack of ghoulettes surrounding him certainly didn't help; a pride of hungry lionesses he was sure would eat him alive if he said something wrong.
Coward, he thought to himself. For being from a tribe that prided themselves on their bravery, he really wasn't acting like it today. Although he had long since left them, travelling far, far away with no intention of ever returning, the niggling feeling that he was disappointing his ancestors right now gnawed holes in the back of his mind. He couldn't find it in himself to resent them, even having left like he did, still holding a grudging respect for them and their chosen existence.
Mountain had been travelling for most of his life. Prior to his own nomadic existence, he had grown up constantly on the move around the southern plains. His tribe were small by earth ghoul standards, but large enough that when they moved it was as though a small village were passing through. In addition to the constant movement of the pack, they had a tradition that, when they came of age, the male ghouls were to leave for a few years to hone their skills alone and prove themselves worthy of caring for a mate.
Having grown up hearing tales from the older ghouls of giant bears fought in forests and big cats fended off in distant desert lands, Mountain had always wondered where he would choose to explore. He had always liked the thought of exploring his namesake; large, rocky mountains full of thick-furred beasts. Living in the southern plains however, where the land was flat for as far as the eye could see, mountains often felt as fictional as some of the beasts rumoured to inhabit them rather than real and tangible landforms.
As he grew older and approached the age where he would be expected to leave, he began to have his doubts about going at all. Most the other ghouls around his age had already wooed a prospective mate, someone for whom the journey was less about exploration but about demonstrating their worthiness to. Mountain had no ghoulette to court, nor a ghoul for that matter. He had no real desire to either – he was content with his life as it was, with no desire for things to change.
He held out for many seasons past when he had been expected to leave. Most of his closest packmates had long since left, returned, and settled into raising their kits amongst the clan. Before long, the tribe was beginning to talk: why hadn't he left yet? He may not have had a mate to court, but plenty of other ghouls who left for their trials in the wilderness did not. They encouraged him, spinning tales of the glory he would return to when he returned without a mate patiently waiting – he would have his pick of the tribe, surely. The gossip began to spread like a fire through a dry forest. Could it be that he wasn't leaving because he was afraid? Cowardice was not tolerated amongst the clan: they could not survive the way that they did if it was.
Eventually, Mountain had left. There was not much else he could do, he reasoned. If he stayed, he would only bring dishonour to his closest family until the whole pack eventually ostracised and then exiled him. As he said a final farewell to his parents, them wishing him luck and promising to have found him the perfect match in a mate by the time he returned, he saw only one clear emotion in their eyes: relief. There was no sadness at his coming absence, or pride for what he would hopefully achieve, only thankfulness that their son would no longer be the black sheep within the tribe.
He hadn't looked back as he left. Not for days. As he crossed the first hill, just knowing that he was out of view of the clan's camp was enough to quiet his restless mind some and allow him to truly appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. So trapped had he been within the prison of expectations, he hadn't stopped in years to truly recognise what a solo expedition could entail. There was no hum of chatter drowning out the birdsong, no rumble of a hundred footfalls to ward off the larger animals who took an interest in him. All felt calm.
Despite the sour feeling he had left with, he had never felt closer to his ancestors from the pack. This was what being an earth ghoul meant; the deep connection with nature he could only feel by being truly reliant on his surroundings for survival. This was what his tribe's traditions were founded upon. His progress was slow, but not for any reason besides him lingering at every turn to investigate a new plant or follow an animal's tracks back to its den out of sheer curiosity.
Slowly, over many months that slowly became years, he headed northeast. Away from the plains and through a densely forested area, he emerged into a lush wilderness of rolling hills. He had found a new purpose to life in travelling the forest and learning its secrets, and before he even realised he was thinking about it, his mind was made up: he was never going back to his clan. They had strayed so far from their roots, and Mountain wanted nothing more than to return to them. The hills and valleys were his home now, the tall trees of the forest were his family.
That was, at least, until he had met another ghoul. It had been years since Mountain left his clan and many months since he had seen any signs of life outside of what lived and grew in the wilderness. Spotting a small plume of smoke curling upwards in the distance, he had found his feet heading towards it without any conscious effort.
Beneath a rocky overhang he saw a small, makeshift camp. Just outside of it, likely guarding the camp from the hungry wolves that roamed at night, was the fire that had signalled him closer. A large figure sat hunched beside it, stoking the flames. As Mountain grew closer, he allowed his footsteps to becoming less stealthy, purposely stepping on and snapping a loose branch – he didn’t want to scare the camper, have them react defensively to a perceived attack. The crack of the twig reverberated around them and purple eyes snapped up to meet Mountain’s green. It was a ghoul.
At the same time as Mountain realised this, he also realised what a foolish situation he had plunged himself into: he had encroached on another ghoul's territory, unannounced, while they were vulnerable and unprepared. This ghoul had every right to defend his patch with all the anger and hellish power he could summon, and Mountain would deserve everything that came his way.
Panicked, he instantly began backing up. The ghoul by the fire made no move to get up from the floor however, tilting his head with curiosity as though he knew Mountain bore him no ill will. As Mountain continued to pivot between curiosity and the urge to flee, it finally dawned on him that the ghoul did not resemble any other earth ghoul he had seen before, from his clan or any other. The violet eyes were the biggest giveaway, and he realised that this was a quintessence ghoul – that would explain how he knew Mountain's intentions; he could sense them and had probably felt him approaching too.
Wary that despite his apparent quintessence abilities, the ghoul may interpret too much eye contact as a challenge, Mountain flicked his eyes up from the ground only briefly to examine the expression on his face. To his surprise, he saw a curious, almost bemused, smile. The ghoul seemed to be waiting for him to approach, intrigued by why he was hovering; frozen like a deer poised in an archer's sight.
“I don't bite,” he said lightly, still sat on the ground and clearly sensing Mountain's wariness of such an apparently fearless creature, “do you?”
After what was probably too long of a pause, Mountain shook his head dumbly.
“Good, good. Will you join me?” The quintessence ghoul gestured to the fire, where he appeared to have a large number of mushrooms, tubers and other plants grilling over the flames. A small pile sat next to him, waiting to be skewered and cooked. Mountain took a cautious seat across the fire, the smell of cooking filtering through the smoke.
“I'm Aether,” the quintessence ghoul smiled as though this were a perfectly normal scenario to meet another ghoul in, rather than the ambush Mountain could have easily twisted it into, “it's been a long time since I met another ghoul, let alone one without a pack.”
“Mountain.” The earth ghoul grunted back, forcing his tongue which felt alien with disuse to form words.
“It's a pleasure to meet you Mountain. Mushroom?” Aether held out a stick. The smell made his mouth water. Mountain accepted cautiously, sniffing the mushrooms tentatively and eyeing it closely before biting into them. Even cooked, these were recognisable and safe. As he chewed, his eyes drifted to a second, smaller pile of mushrooms beside those Aether had returned to threading onto sticks. Those were very much not safe, he realised. Although similar in appearance to the others, the telltale shape of the stem and clour of the gills confirmed his first thought. Aether seemed to be avoiding them, yet was that because he knew, or was he simply working through his piles in a methodical order? Worse still, had the ones he fed Mountain been a trap?
“Those will make you sick.” He croaked out, his mouthful turning to rubber on his tongue.
“I know,” Aether replied, looking up with a serene smile, “they're not for eating though. I make a tincture out of them, to pull the evil out of wounds.”
Mountain still looked sceptical.
“They're bitter; you'd know if I gave you one.” He shrugged at Mountain's face, with his cheeks slowly puffing out as he considered the risks of swallowing. With a gulp, he did. Aether looked delighted, as though he had passed a test of trust neither was aware was transpiring until now.
That trust had continued as the pair found themselves travelling together in a similarly spontaneous fashion, contrary to the usual routine and planning of both ghouls. Mountain remained wary for weeks to come, yet hadn’t found it in himself to leave. Aether’s campfire was warm, as was his company, and Mountain began to realise that the solitary life he had been living wasn’t as well-suited to him as he had thought.
The quintessence ghoul was knowledgeable and more than happy to share such knowledge with Mountain. In return, Mountain shared his own experience with the wilderness and the pair had found themselves becoming a team. With one ghoul always available to keep a lookout, their lives became safer and easier, and Mountain found himself able to relax in a way he hadn’t for years. His knowledge of the wild meshed perfectly with Aether’s ability to tap into a deeper layer of nature. They had each other’s backs; a fact that became especially important as winter began to creep in and all the living beings within the forest became increasingly desperate for a meal. It was colder up here than Mountain remembered it being on the plains, and even after several winters he still wasn’t used to waking to find the dew in his hair frozen solid.
While in these early weeks together Mountain had been outwardly reluctant to follow the quintessence ghoul, the company began to rejuvenate him. What had started as simply an alliance of convenience became a friendship before he realised what was happening. For a while, they would have called themselves companions; never too close, but with an understanding that they relied on each other and their mutual trust. Mountain realised well past the point of no return that they had become their own small pack.
With that understanding, and the acknowledgement of how much more comfortable his life now was, when Aether had first suggested that they attempt to settle in a human village to prepare for the coming winter Mountain had been somewhat open to the idea. He still wasn’t keen: the thought of denying his nature and hiding behind the glamour that all ghouls had but few enjoyed using filled him with a mild revulsion, but the comfort of having four walls around them when the frost began to develop had won out in the end. With the pair’s talents being perfectly utilised by their new lifestyle, it was mid summer by the time Mountain realised they had long outstayed their proposed single season.
As such, when they had discovered Dewdrop late into the autumn, their decision had been made: they would stay amongst the humans indefinitely, until such a time came that they all either needed or wanted to move on. They had stayed as they were for long enough that even Mountain had begun to relax his most wild ways, giving in to the creature comforts civilisation provided.
By the time Swiss, and later Rain, had joined the pack, there was very little of the nomadic earth ghoul left within Mountain. At the time, he hadn’t even cared that he was becoming domesticated as Aether had once jokingly called it when he automatically kicked off his boots before entering the farmhouse. Only once they had been thrust back into the forest, dependent on their skills for survival once again, had he lashed out at the loss of his old skills.
Thinking of the time between leaving his clan and meeting Aether, Mountain couldn’t help but laugh coldly at how much his life had changed. He had first felt freedom in the forest, unchained from any expectations of pack and utterly reliant on his own instincts. How different things were now. The call of civilisation, of a mate, was one he had shunned for so long that his desperation for it now blindsided him. A small voice in him, the stubborn one that caused him nothing but problems, wanted to resent Swiss for changing his priorities so completely. The rest of him was more rational, and knew that that was entirely out of the multi ghoul’s control. Hell, he hadn’t even known Mountain in his wilder days, only once he had long since fallen into the comfort of life at the farm with a small pack, so the idea that he had changed him in any way was laughable.
With hindsight as clear as day, he realised that it was his own feelings of inadequacy at something which had once been his forte that had inspired such hostility towards Dew in their early days of travelling north. Recognising his flaws was the first part of addressing them, or so Cirrus had said when he confided in her. And he could clearly recognise that he was taking his anger at himself and his actions that morning out on Swiss – a mistake he was desperate to avoid making twice. He needed to clear the air, before it was too late.
~~~~~~~
Back inside the Abbey, Sunny had followed Swiss until they ended up in a small inner courtyard, surrounded on all sides by tall ivy-clad walls. With a loud huff that was almost verging on being a shriek of frustration, Swiss threw himself onto a bench facing a tiny water feature.
“How’s everything gone so wrong?” He lamented loudly, more to himself than Sunny. She hummed sympathetically nonetheless.
“You know, I thought you’d been together a while already,” she mused, more thinking aloud than expecting a reply, “what happened? You looked so happy yesterday.”
Swiss snorted, whether in derision or to hold back more tears it wasn’t clear.
“I thought we were happy too. Mount clearly doesn’t want the same thing as me though!”
He flopped onto his back, landing his head in Sunshine’s lap where she began lightly running deft fingers across his scalp in small, soothing patterns.
“You don’t know that until you talk to him,” she pointed out, trying hard to inject as much kindness into her usually joking voice as possible, “why don’t you start from the beginning, then we can work out what to do?”
Swiss did the best he could to explain; going back as far as him first joining the pack all those years ago. He described how Mountain had seemed distant compared to the rest of the pack at first, before Swiss came to realise that he was just naturally quieter than the others. He’d opened up eventually like a slow-blooming flower, the pair becoming friends. Their recent closeness had felt like a distinct development to Swiss though, a notable difference to their usual interactions. He knew how he felt, knew what the familiar tingling in his gut meant for him, but for Mountain? He had no idea what his recent behaviour meant. Was he feeling it too, or was this just a deeper kind of friendship to him, forged through the chaos of their trip north?
“Oh you are in a pickle!” Sunshine tutted softly, continuing her small scratching motions to keep the ghoul in her lap from getting too worked up again.
“How did you get Mist?” He asked, turning his head to look at Sunny instead of staring straight up.
Sunshine giggled.
“I just asked her, silly!” Her delicate peals of laughter made Swiss smile despite himself.
“I practice what I preach, you know?” She continued with an exaggerated, sanctimonious nod, finally eliciting a small laugh from Swiss.
“It sounds like that's what Mountain needs too, you're both too far gone for subtleties at this point.”
“What am I even going to say though?” Swiss could hear his voice getting whiney, but Sunny seemed to have infinite patience with him. His head was still pounding; that would have to be his excuse.
Sunshine hummed contemplatively.
“I don't know, you know him best. You just have to be open with him though, say that you don't know why he's ignoring you, and it hurts. You don't have to put your whole heart on display right away, but you need to be somewhat open if you want things to stop festering between you.”
She was right, of course, thought Swiss. If he wanted to at least repair their friendship and have Mountain talk to him again, he needed to make a move and do it properly – make his hurt feelings known.
“Yeah...” he muttered, feeling his confidence and conviction growing as he imagined the conversation. He wasn't going to beg, he had more self-respect left than that, but he wasn't going to let Mountain bury his head in the sand and throw away years of friendship over a drunken mistake and a misunderstanding.
“You can ask why he left this morning, but you need to listen to him too, let him explain even if you don’t like the answer.” Sunny’s words were firm, but her tone was kind.
“I know.” Swiss nodded.
“Don’t look so glum! Everything isn’t lost yet, he might be stressing as much as you are about what to say, y’know?” Shifting him up as best as she could, Sunshine pulled Swiss into a hug and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, as though the walls might be eavesdropping.
“If you two are even half as bad at communicating with each other as Mist says Dewdrop and Rain were, then of course everything’s a mess right now! “
Finally, that drew a small giggle from Swiss. The pair sat in comfortable quiet for a while longer, listening to the gentle bubbling of the water feature behind them and the whistling of the breeze filtering past the stone walls above. The sun passed overhead, the shadows shifting like they were turning their backs on the ghouls.
“C’mon,” Sunshine sighed eventually, reluctant to move but all too aware that it was already mid-afternoon and they had a busy evening ahead, “let’s go and get ready for the ritual now, then you don’t have to run into Mountain in the Den if you aren’t ready to.
Although they were prepared to sneak into the Den if necessary, it seemed to be completely empty when they entered. Swiss felt a pang of guilt that they had avoided the majority of their tasks for the day when everyone else was so hard at work, but really they were the ones who would be working later while everyone else was listening to them and having fun. The perks of being in the band, Sunny had quipped. He quickly found the scattered pieces of his uniform and got changed. Unable to resist, he gathered up Mountain’s too and hung it on the front of the wardrobe before leaving to meet Sunshine in the common room.
When there was nothing left for them to do but wait for night to fall and their guests to arrive, they slowly headed outside. With any luck, they could make themselves look busy enough that no one would impose more work upon them. To Swiss’ relief Mountain was nowhere to be seen, giving him some time to finalise what he would say. While he psyched himself up, Sunny stuck next to him like a living shield; her loud and buoyant attitude keeping Swiss afloat in the tumultuous sea of his thoughts. As the time approached for them to start performing, Mountain was still nowhere to be seen. Swiss supposed that was for the best – what could either of them possibly say in the short time they had left – but the part of him that cared endlessly for the ghoul hoped he would appear soon, before Papa would need to chastise him for his tardiness.
~~~~~~~
Inside the Abbey, Mountain had also been skulking along the corridors trying to pretend to be busy. He had eventually been released from outdoor work and had no intention of returning until the last possible second. Mountain put off returning to the Den for as long as he could in case he should run into Swiss or any of the ghoulettes that had spent the morning sending him a mix of glances that could have been either concern or anger, he wasn't sure. When he finally entered, with barely a half hour until he was supposed to be onstage with Copia and the others, the Den was completely abandoned. He supposed everyone who wasn't performing tonight was already out enjoying themselves.
Entering their room, he was surprised to find his uniform already hanging up waiting for him. He scratched his head, certain he had left it on the floor like everything else when they returned last night. Could Swiss really have done that for him? Even such a small gesture made him wonder if all hope wasn't lost. He suddenly regretted hiding away all day; if Swiss really had been wanting to reconcile, Mountain hadn't helped himself. With very little time until they were due to perform, he wouldn't have a chance to clear the air beforehand. He cursed himself for making yet another cowardly decision that hurt not only himself, but Swiss too.
Mountain shimmied into the black clothes, suddenly feeling so much more exposed in the tight waistcoat than he had the night before, especially compared to the floaty linen he had been wearing all day. The mask felt heavy on his head as he adjusted the straps, restricting his vision and making him feel like a prey animal. He could only hope that Swiss wasn't out for blood. Finally, he stuffed his feet into his polished leather boots. Copia had acquired them specially for the three ghouls in his little band from a cobbler several villages away, and they felt expensive. Yesterday they had made him feel important, but today they felt claustrophobic, squeezing his feet and holding him down like lead weights.
Walking along the empty corridors towards the party outside felt like walking to his doom. The rational part of him understood that the only things he was really approaching were his pack and the ghoul he loved, but the few difficult conversations that blocked his path felt like insurmountable barriers. As he turned the final corner to the outside and the dim light of the early evening, the gargoyles perched above the door seemed to leer down at him mockingly. Mountain tried to ignore them, took a deep breath and set his shoulders back, summoning the confidence he had felt the night before on stage.
All that shattered around him however when he broke through the crowd around the edge of the stage and saw Swiss waiting there, talking with Sunshine. Mountain's mouth ran dry and any words he had on his tongue disappeared as he saw Swiss stood there in the flesh, highlighted by the orange glow of the setting sun. Were his tail not glamoured away – for the time being at least, until the humans present had enjoyed enough blackberry wine to convince themselves they were seeing things – he felt it would have been firmly between his legs.
He stayed frozen to the spot until a piercingly expectant gaze from Sunshine pulled him forward to heed Copia summoning them onto stage. Mountain stumbled up the few makeshift stairs, eyes locked on his feet. Sitting on the crate he used as percussion he felt grounded, less like he would float away at a single glance form Swiss. The multi ghoul seemed to be doing a very effective job of not looking at him either, leaving Mountain no trace of a clue about how he was feeling.
They had two sets to play this evening; this one now, as the sun set, and another later once night had truly set in. As he tapped out a beat to begin their first song, Mountain felt his movements were stiffer than normal, stilted even. His beat was always rigid, but this felt awkward and forced rather than steadying. If Copia could tell, he gave no reaction from his position at the front of the stage.
Under the bright light of several enchanted torches and lanterns blazing down on the stage from above, Mountain was finally able to lose himself to the music. It was almost enough to distract him from the fact that Swiss was standing as far away from him as the stage allowed, Sunshine acting as a buffer beside him. The whole set passed in a daze for Mountain. It was over before he realised, Copia chaperoning his ghouls off stage to enthusiastic cheers. As soon as his feet his solid ground again, Mountain felt a tentative hand on his elbow.
“Are you alright, my ghoul?” Copia asked him, mismatched eyes filled with concern. He must have felt the awkward atmosphere after all, Mountain regretted.
“Sorry Papa, I'll try and play better next time.”
“Not at all, my ghoul! We still performed admirably,” Copia squeezed Mountain's arm encouragingly and gave him a knowing smile, “I hope you can sort what is bothering you though, yes?”
Feeling bolstered by Copia's comments, Mountain gave him a shaky smile back. The man clearly cared so deeply for his ghouls as well as his church. Especially with so many visitors here, Mountain didn't want to let him down with a bad performance.
“I will, I promise.”
With a final nod from Copia, Mountain turned and plunged into the crowd in the direction he had last seen his bandmates go. Finally, he thought he had the last shred of courage he needed to talk to Swiss.
Just half a one-shot set in my How to Scratch a Record 'verse (which is why I'm tagging Tim). This isn't canon to that verse and a bunch of the little details have changed so don't assume that any specific thing will definitely happen over there, but this concept hasn't left me alone so-
Down the line Jason and other Bats encountering a Batfamily from a universe closer to canon
Multiverse shit was always sketchy. Even at the best of times, with the best possible combinations, it was always weird and a little bit unsafe to have multiple versions of the same person running around. Sure it could lead to really fast problem solving, but it could also lead to some of the worst knock-down drag out fights any particular thunderdome had ever seen.
Jason wasn’t thrilled about having a complete second set of his family on site, was what he was saying. The costumes varied a bit, but it wasn’t that hard to pick out who was who underneath.
What he really didn’t like, was that it was pretty obviously his double dressed to the nines in a leather jacket and shiny red helmet. Jason didn’t want to be Red Hood, and he didn’t like what it said about their world that he was so comfortable in the role.
It didn’t matter, shouldn’t matter. Legacy titles were legacy titles and sometimes people picked them up to pay respect to someone they had valued. Despite their ups and downs, Jason had never wanted anyone to think he didn’t value how much Alvin had done and continued to do for the Alley. If Alvin really ever needed someone to cover for him while he was unavailable for an extended period of time, Jason would at least consider it.
Except. Alvin was a lot of things and stubborn was chief among them. He would never walk away from Gotham, from doing what he thought was right his own way, even when he fucked up. If Alvin Draper wasn’t the Red Hood where these alternates were from then he must not be able to do the work.
Jason didn’t like the thought, like grit caught in his teeth.
To be fair, the feeling seemed to be at least somewhat mutual. The Jason-in-the-Hood had been shooting him stony and clearly assessing glances periodically since they’d arrived, but hadn’t made any attempt to approach. Jason figured it’d be some time in the next twelve minutes or so unless something more pressing came up.
The two Batmen were certainly having fun, if the staredown they hadn’t let up on was any way to judge. Jason was also a little suspicious of how easy it was to tell them apart; his own Bat with navy highlights and yellow accents, armoured to take a bullet and allow for the kind of acrobatics that made him seem half liquid half wraith. The other Bat was all monochromatic blacks and grays, a shadow brought to life and layered with semi-flex plating that looked like it was intended to stop a shell from a tank rather than a shotgun. How he moved Jason sure didn’t know, but he was absolutely certain that whatever this Batman hit went down.
Over at the Batcomputer, in what Jason was pretty sure was a blatant breach of multiversal protocol, the two Tims were huddled over casefiles both on screen and from some kind of tablet the visiting Tim had pulled out. Interesting to see him in a Red Robin suit even with the cowl down, since local Tim was pretty adverse to anything and everything to do with the Red Hood, but maybe he’d stepped into the role to support his Jason after-
Probably not worth speculating on though, not unless he wanted to really get into the nitty gritty of gossip that very likely wouldn’t ever be relevant to him again.
More interesting was the almost identical Batgirl costumes the Casses were wearing. They matched down to some of the semi-decorative stitching and it was frankly more than a little uncanny. Was the design just that good that they’d inadvertently recreated them in some sort of convergent evolution thing, or was the second Batgirl just some kind of multiversal constant? Did Jason even want to know?
Maybe he’d be better off hanging out with the Nightwings. Sure Dickhead could be annoying, but at least they were similar enough to clearly be on the same page about things but not literally indistinguishable. That probably meant they were safe.
“Hang on,” the words from the computer interrupted Jason’s train of thought. Alternate Tim, Red Robin. “If your Jason went straight from Robin to Jayhawk and hasn’t changed since, then who’s the ‘Red Hood’ that keeps turning up in all these cases? And why’s he been operating so long? Don’t tell me the Joker swapped sides and you’ve just been letting him run Crime Alley.”
The temperature dropped.
No one talked about the Joker, not really. Not in years.
To this day, his death was something of a sore point for the original Dynamic Duo. Jason knew where he stood on the matter, but there was no point starting a fight over it, not unless Dick really wanted to push on why he didn’t trust Hood with any of his siblings.
So why did it sound like this other Tim thought the Joker was alive?
Their Tim clicked open the file, and Alvin’s masked face filled the monitor. “The Red Hood, a.k.a. Alvin Draper has been operating for almost a decade now. He started making waves in Crime Alley before debuting officially by murdering the Joker on live television, and ever since he’s been a big player in the Gotham underground. He’ll lend a hand sometimes, but he’ll just as often blow something up to act as a distraction if he doesn’t like an investigation. By day, Draper runs a medical research company with multiple production labs in the city and a prominent IT division that donates labour to small businesses across Gotham. He’s got a good dozen other investments and corporations, most linked to aliases, though that he owns them is an open secret. By most recent estimates, he’s got at least two precincts on his payroll and he and Gordon have been in a kind of cold war about controlling police patrols in his territory for years. Draper is-“
“Not real,” Red Robin interrupted.
“Excuse me?” Their Tim sounded offended, and honestly Jason agreed. Who did this guy think he was deciding who was and wasn’t real?
Apparently even Bruce agreed, finally breaking the stalemate and stepping towards the workstation. “Alvin Draper is very much a real person. He’s been both a help and a hinderance on countless cases, and I’ve personally spoken with him both in and out of costume-“
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure that’s all true,” Red Robin waved off the sentiments. “I’m not denying that there’s a guy running around doing all of that, but I’m telling you that that’s not a name that belongs to a real person. It’s an alias I’ve been using since I was fourteen. If you’ve got someone claiming to be Alvin Draper on your hands, what you’ve actually got is a Tim Drake that is lying to you.
“And has been for ten years apparently, wow.” Red Robin blinked. “Good for him, I guess, though not so much on the very prolific murder.”
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jason’s double said, dismissive and cold and so fucking sure of himself. “You’re telling me that even across universes you’re stealing my shit? What this guy crossed dimensions and decided to try being a crime lord for the fun of it?”
His words were tacks under Jason’s skin. What the fuck did any of these people know about Alvin?
“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he snapped. That red helmet caught the glare of the overhead halogens like a warning light.
“Just look at him,” Red Robin waved at the monitor and then back to himself. “That’s literally me in six years and a domino mask. Sure, the beard hides the jawline a bit and I think he’s got some light contour on his cheekbones or something, but it’s not like we don’t know how to recognize someone in a disguise. That’s literally my face.”
Tim grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. “I did notice he kinda looks like me back when I was younger. But I looked into it, and it just turned out he was my dad’s illegitimate brother-”
Bruce stepped closer, getting a hand on Tim’s shoulder and Jason’s gut twisted. “I found those records as well, some of them paper copies down at the city archives with all the hallmarks of original documents-“
“But if we’re looking at an alternate version of Tim Drake,” the Bat in black caught the thought mid-train. “Then he may very well have planted those records years ago to handle the inevitable questions that would emerge from sharing a face with an actual resident of this universe.”
“Or maybe he just exists here! Maybe that’s the big differentiating factor between our universe and yours; that to you Alvin a lie but here he’s real,” Jason exploded. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. He’d known Alvin for years, grown up with him always there in the background even after they lost touch, Alvin hadn’t been lying to him all that time. Not about something as fundamental as his identity.
Right?
Nightwing, not theirs but the one with the heavier gauntlets and the extra inch of lift in his boots, rolled his shoulders casually. “Well there’s an easy way to find out. Bring him here, grab a few samples, and test not just for the genetic match to the Timbos here, but also for any lingering magic or transdimensional radiation that might suggest he’s not supposed to be here. Anyone got his number?”
All eyes turned to Jason, which he kind of resented. It wasn’t like Cass and Alvin hadn’t gotten close during her run as Red Robin. He was pretty sure they still texted, whereas he and Alvin has been rocky for a long time. He knew he could rely on Hood if he really needed help, but Alvin was always unwilling to push for any kind of closeness and Jason had never quite managed to purge the slimy guilt that came from spending too much time with him. It wasn’t fair that he got to do that when others couldn’t, wasn’t fair that Alvin prioritized his wants and needs when there were people that needed him out there.
He did still have his number, though.
Maybe calling would help, would get Alvin in here and he could prove that he wasn’t secretly Tim Drake and this was all a big misunderstanding. He could be a Martian in deep cover or something, or he was a rapidly aged clone, or maybe he was just a guy who looked kind of similar to Tim.
Maybe he hadn’t lied to Jason.
There really was only one good way to find out. So he pulled out his phone and dialed.
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)
Words: 1.5 K
Warning: Cursing. Mentions of s e x
Summary: Detective Ramsey is a step closer to capturing a notorious criminal. If only Miss Allende, a key witness, would cooperate.
Author’s Note: I am an idiot because the beautiful @beastlyinstrument sent me this AU prompt and I didn't know I was to write a fic. Anyway, once I caught on, I got right to work on this lol. Thank you so much for the prompt! Thank you immensely to @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!
When Ethan awoke that morning, he couldn't possibly predict he'd be punching Declan Nash square in the jaw. It was a long standing fantasy of his and finally, in the crowded, smoke-filled bar, Ethan had found a good enough excuse to do it. One minute, the lecherous pig was forcing his company on the visibly distressed blonde, the next Ethan was shoving him away and punching him with such spectacular force that Nash flew back into a storm of glasses, bottles, and furniture.
Ethan also never imagined his hand, red and swollen from the satisfying impact against Nash's leering face, would be tended to in a desolate dressing room by the loveliest woman he had ever set eyes on. Then again, his mind would require an exceptional measure of talent to invent the perfect arch of her brows, the graceful slope of her nose, the lush swell of her lips. And those eyes— almond-shaped, bright, and the most captivating shade of green imaginable.
Alluring green eyes that were currently meeting his, sending his pulse into an elated flutter.
“All better,” she informed him in that caress of a voice.
Something about the spark in her eyes as she watched him put in a comfortable and flirtatious lull, so much unlike his usual self. The same warm ease had blossomed in his chest when his eyes met hers from across the bar only minutes ago.
“Are you certain you're not a doctor, Miss…”
“Allende,” she supplied, red lips curling into a coy smile. “And no doctors here, just years of experience cleaning up messes. Though if they all looked as handsome as you, I wouldn't mind patching them up.”
She punctuated the heady little pronouncement with a wink that almost made his breath hitch. Ethan's good hand twitched at his side just as she moved away to a vanity. All he could do was watch as she placed herself in front of the lighted mirror, reapplying her lipstick with skilled precision.
“So what brings you here, Detective Ramsey? Don't tell me you just stopped by to defend my honor from the likes of Declan Nash.”
“Though an honorable pursuit, that's not the reason for my visit,” he said, their eyes meeting through the mirror. “I'm here to investigate the Kenmore bank robbery from two nights ago.”
Miss Allende hummed in acknowledgement but added nothing more.
“A reliable source claimed I could come here to find all the information I needed about the Viper.”
She raised her perfectly shaped brows at him.
“You think the Viper is a regular here?”
“It's what I'm here to find out.”
There was a pause in which she realized his intent. To his surprise, she laughed.
“And you think I'm the one who's going to rat the Viper out?”
When Ethan said nothing, only held her gaze steadily, she laughed even more still. This time, Ethan could hear an edge to the sound, something akin to fear.
“I'm not that keen on making enemies, Detective.”
In the silence that followed, she carefully brushed the platinum blonde curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. Those green eyes remained fixed on her reflection, and something told him she was studiously avoiding his eye. His instinct told him she was afraid, despite how masterfully she tried to hide it under the flirtatious veil. To his astonishment, his stomach clenched unpleasantly, the urge to protect her tightening his jaw.
Before he could think of a tactful way to continue his questioning, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of the black dress clinging to her skin. “Now, if that was everything, Detective Ramsey, I really must be getting back to the bar. I'm due on stage in less than ten minutes.”
Ethan intercepted her before he could stop himself as she moved to the door.
“Please, Miss Allende—”
“Lilac.”
“What?”
“My name. You can call me Lilac.”
“That's—”
Beautiful.
He had never heard anything like it.
“Lilac. Anything you might know about the criminal known as the Viper will be of great help.”
Lilac paused, studying his expression for any trustworthiness she could cling on to. Ethan gazed back, acutely aware of how close their faces were in the silence. Something slipped in her guarded expression, revealing a small hint of vulnerability.
At last, she sighed.
“I can't,” she said in a quiet voice. “I'm not—”
“I will protect you.”
Lilac startled at that, as though she had seldom heard the words before. She swallowed, her gaze holding his as she considered his offer, something heavy and tangible pressing into the small space that separated them.
“You offering to be my bodyguard, Detective?” she asked in a sultry voice, the words dripping from her lips like honey. She added a coquettish smile for good measure, leaving no doubt that the mask was securely back into place. “I accept, but you don't need the job title to press me against a wall with your body.”
Ethan had no hope of pushing his point as a crimson nail traced the outline of his jaw. The slow, lazy line made his breath hitch, his mind racing with thoughts of her tight little body flush against his.
Fuck the wall.
He could bend her over that vanity, forcing her to look at him through the mirror as she whimpered his name.
Lilac shifted closer to him still, lips parted as her finger descended down his neck. The intent in her gaze told him she wanted the same thing. Ethan leaned in to capture her lips but something in the mirror caught his attention and made him pause.
Lilac blinked at him, befuddled by his sudden stony expression.
“What?”
Ethan said nothing, observing the stain on the skin of her back. It was insignificant, otherwise imperceptible if not by the slight shift in the fabric of her dress.
Yet, there it was, as present as any hard evidence he might find.
“You missed a spot.”
Lilac stepped away from him, puzzled.
“What are—”
“Tar is notoriously difficult to get off the skin, isn't it, Miss Allende?” His voice grew icier with every word. “But you knew that. Hell, you knew that two nights ago when you slipped on the Kenmore rooftop during the chase.”
“Fuck!” the masked figure had hissed as they hit the black substance coating part of the roof.
She continued to back away. “I don't know what—”
“Tell me, Miss Allende, did you research Kenmore before you decided to strike?”
“You're—”
“Did you know the rooftops were under construction before you led us up there in your hasty little escape attempt?”
Lilac finally halted her steps, keeping her eyes trained on Ethan.
Something shifted in her expression, like a mask falling to the floor.
Then, she smiled wickedly at Ethan.
“Very good, Detective Ramsey. Maybe you are as good as they say you are.”
There was a pronounced silence, steely blue eyes boring into effervescent green ones. In a blinding motion, they both moved—Ethan to restrain, Lilac to evade.
Their bodies were a flurry of limbs moving to strike or to defend. The furniture in the small dressing stood no chance against their skill, which Ethan was surprised to find Lilac possessed. She moved with admirable grace and precision for someone wearing stilettos and a confining, skin-tight dress. It didn't stop her from aiming a high kick at his head, which Ethan barely dodged.
“You're under arrest,” he grunted when he pushed her against a wall.
Lilac laughed in his face, her crimson lips only inches from his.
“You're cute when you're confident, Ramsey.”
In a swift movement, she freed her body from his hold, light and unassailable like the waters of a raging river.
More swirls of movement as they struck, blocked, and kicked, each paired with a breathless grunt or swear. At last, just as his technique descended into sloppiness, Ethan managed to press her against the wooden tiles of the floor. His hands pinned her wrists above her head, his knees digging securely against her hips.
“How did you know?” she asked between pants, still donning a devious smile despite her position. “That this is my favorite position to be in?”
Ethan stiffened as he held her, unable to look away from the rise and fall of her chest. It struck him then how fighting her was not unlike fucking her, just how they wanted only minutes ago. Before he could reign his thoughts in, she freed her legs, hitched them on his hips, and reversed their positions with trained strength and agility.
“Or maybe me on top is better?” she asked thoughtfully.
Ethan grunted, moving to free himself from her grasp, but she was surprisingly strong.
“It's a shame you're a damn good detective,” she continued. “We would've had so much fun together.”
As Ethan unsuccessfully tried to free himself, he saw Lilac's hands delve into her blonde curls until she removed what he now knew to be a wig. A downpour of glossy, dark hair fell past her shoulders, reminiscent of the dark braid he thought he saw in the darkness on the night of the chase. Even struggling and breathless as he was, his traitorous mind couldn't help but recognize how much lovelier she looked with dark hair.
“You'll never get away, Viper.”
Lilac laughed out loud at the use of the moniker, which felt so ill fitted.
“Even as talented as you are, I'm afraid you don't have all the facts yet.” She pressed a hot, languid kiss to his neck before using his own handcuffs to bind him to a nearby pipe. “But something tells me you'll get there soon enough.”
With one last charming smile, she rearranged her dark hair, hoisted herself onto the window, and vanished into the night.
_________________________
Author's Note: Y'all I don't know what this was lol. Thank you so much for reading this! It was so much fun!
A few notes:
The next chapter of my OH3 AU is almost done. Yay!
I'm almost caught up with replies and reading all the fics I missed out on the week I was gone. Double yay!
And (not to jinx myself) but I might finally sit my butt down to complete the next chapter of the Picta series (ages later oops)
Thank you everyone for being here, despite it being almost a month the OPH ended :( Love you guys!
Part 14 of Fugitive. Quite a bit of deviance from what has gone before. Much plot, many darkness.
18+, 12k words.
"Cyar'ika...please..." A cruel smile curved your lips as you heard the Mandalorian's plaintive cries. They soothed your tormented soul like a balm after so many years of being denied. "You cannot do this. Please. Listen to me." The seemingly sourceless orange light splayed across his beskar like an oil slick fire.
You frowned and advanced on him, hissing. "I cannot? You do not tell me what I can and cannot do." As you reached him, he fell to his knees, the T shape of his visor fixed on your face.
"Please do not make me do this, cyar'ika," he begged as you heard the click of his blaster cocking.
"You think you'll...what? Shoot me? Kill me?" your words were icily mocking as you tore the blaster from his grasp and hurled it away without ever laying a finger on it. "You cannot kill me. You cannot harm me. As you say, I am your beloved. You love me." As you spoke you lifted the helmet from his head and dropped it on to the dusty black earth next to him as you looked down into his face. His nose and mouth were leaking blood and his lip was puffy and bruised. "As well you should," you added, bending down to stroke your hand through the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful roughly. You planted a bruising kiss on his mouth and his lip split anew, the iron sweetness of him coating your own lips. His eyes were huge and staring, but his fear was being tempered with anger now. That too was as it should be.
"I love you. Not...this. Whatever this is. This is wrong." Bestowing another smile upon him, you released his hair and brought your hand around to cup his chin instead, speaking so softly and so, so dangerously.
"Wrong, Mand'alor? Are you quite sure about that?"
"I am not the-" But his denial of who he was drowned out by the gasp of pain he emitted as you flooded his mind with images. Of him sitting upon the throne in the royal palace of Mandalore, the Darksaber in one hand and his beskar spear in the other, the very picture of a warrior king. Of a war room filled with Jedi and Mandalorians alike, plotting and strategising their slaughter across the galaxy. Of legions upon legions of fanatical Mandalorians, loyal only to Din and cutting swathes through stormtroopers in a riotous orgy of blood and smoke...At this last you felt his mind rebel and struggle against yours, like a moth battering itself against a lamp. "No...," he managed to spit feebly.
"No?" you asked gently, your voice honeysweet and kindly as you withdrew from his mind and let him get his breath back. "But isn't it a glorious future? You and I working together to rid the galaxy of the vermin that plague it? I know you want to make them pay. For what they did to your child. For making you the Mand'alor in the first place. For Alzoc-" You knew what he was going to do before he did it. So predictable. His hand reached for your throat and closed around it as he stood, but you had already compensated your breathing and the gesture did little except excite you. His limbs were shaking with rage, as well as from his ordeal and you smiled sweetly at him. "You see?" you scraped out, "You do want this. We can set Mandalore aright again. Together. Husband of mine." His hand relaxed its grip a little, but his fingers were still around your neck. He swallowed as if something bitter were trying to force its way up his throat.
"The woman I married would never say such things, never force me to see such things. You are not my riduur." And suddenly his other blaster was in his left hand and pointing directly between your eyes.
You snarled at him, an animalistic noise of purest hatred, "You are weak, Mandalorian. You have betrayed your Creed countless times. And I know that you could never-" Suddenly the world went white, then dark, and you knew nothing more.
***
Seventy two hours earlier
***
"Din, you have to stop!" You were desperately trying not to giggle and encourage his behaviour. "I told you, either I do the ritual here or I go to my room in the Academy alone and do it."
"But mesh'la, how can I concentrate on anything else with you like this?" he said pleadingly as he gathered you into his arms.
"Like what?" you asked innocently, even though you knew perfectly well what. After you had taken shelter in the ship, you had set your robe and clothes to dry and sought out some fresh ones. Apparently you had gotten behind on laundry and had very little that was clean besides underwear, so had asked Din to borrow a spare undershirt and he had obliged. It wasn't often that you wore his clothes, but you loved having the scent of him so close to you all the time. The trouble was that you didn't have any clean spare trousers and now found yourself trying desperately to relax your mind and body when you could almost feel the heat of his gaze as he watched the bottom of his shirt grazing the tops of your thighs. "Would you prefer me naked?" That was the wrong thing to say. Or, possibly the right thing. Apparently the only thing more arousing to Din than you in his clothes was you out of them. He ground his erection against your stomach and kissed you.
"Always prefer you naked," he murmured against your lips.
"Are you going to make a liar out of me?" you asked, smiling. "I told Luke you made me a better Jedi. I also said we wouldn't be doing this here and yet..."
"And yet," he echoed, his nose stroking over your cheek. "Since you've already broken that promise once, would it be so terrible to do it again?"
"Absolutely," you answered. "But I can never resist you, Din Djarin. You know that."
Two hours later, you were finally sitting calmly and meditatively in front of a small bowl of water and a lit candle - the reflection of the candle upon the water helping to clear your mind and soothe your spirit. Recalling your meeting with Paz Vizsla, you went through each stage of what led to your anger at him, analysing and considering all possible angles to avoid a repeat of such behaviours in the future. At the core of it was your attachment to Din, your desire to never see him be hurt or damaged. You had to be mindful and better at managing your emotions surrounding him, else it would be increasingly easy to act that way again. The candle suddenly flickered although there was no draft that you could feel, and you could see a darkness swirl within the bowl. It...had to be a trick of the light. The bowl was white, there was nowhere that the darkness could be. Still, it was there and as you concentrated on it, you thought you heard a noise. A low level thrumming like machinery, but punctuated by the occasional voice calling, shouting in distress, screaming...
"Mesh'la?" Din's voice struck through your mind like an arrow, and his hand on your shoulder shook the dream from you instantly. "You fell asleep," he said needlessly, a smile playing about his lips. You looked down at the candle and bowl. The water was clear and ordinary, the candle not burned down by much. You couldn't have been asleep for more than twenty minutes. "Are you okay?" he asked when you didn't reply to him.
"Yes, fine. Just a strange dream. And apparently I'm more tired than I imagined." Din helped you to your feet. "Can we go back to the Academy? We need to speak with Luke again." His face took on a stony, annoyed countenance. "I know, I know. But we do have things to talk through. Not least the Council's discussion about you and I. Luke...he is a good man. Please trust me on this. And when you feel ready - if you feel ready - you can talk to me about whatever it is that has made you so...well you know." He nodded and looked into your eyes, his own softened and filling with love as he beheld your face.
"I do trust you. Of course I do. And I trust that what I need to tell you will not change us. Its just-" he swallowed thickly, "-its hard to say out loud after so long." Your arms came round his back to hold him close and you felt the understanding pass between you, strengthening you both individually and together.
Once your clothes had (mostly) dried, you got dressed and Din gave a low hum of approval when he saw that you were continuing to wear his undershirt. "You look far better in that than I do," he remarked and you kissed him happily before handing him his helmet. He held your hand on the approach back to the Academy, seeming to want to be as close to you as he could after your disagreement, even through his coverings. Just as you were about to enter through the main doors, Tolea came out to you.
"There you are," she smiled. "I've been looking all over. Luke said there is to be a "Council meeting" after the evening meal?" You could almost hear the quotation marks around 'Council Meeting'. "There's hardly a Council to speak of!" Her eyes fell to where yours and Din's hands met and she raised an eyebrow, more suggestive than questioning. You set about introducing your fiancé and your friend properly. He seemed inclined to trust her as when you gave his name as "Mando", he interjected with his real first name and held out his hand to clasp hers.
"So, a Mandalorian, hey?" she teased. "You always did have a thing for them!" Your eyes had gone wide at her words and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you saw Din's helmet turn to face you in the periphery of your vision and heard what sounded like a laugh swiftly muffled by a cough.
"I did not have a "thing" for them," you spluttered indignantly. "I was just interested in the history of the Mandalorian Wars!"
"Yeah, yeah. But the armour helped, right?"
"Tolea!"
"Alright, I'll stop," she promised, her hand coming to pat your shoulder in a good-natured way. "I actually just wanted to see if you would come and spar with me? I'm a little rusty and it might be a good learning experience for the Padawans."
"I will, if you never mention the word 'Mandalorian' in front of me ever again," you joked. She bowed to you in a mockery of a solemn promise and turned away to walk you around the building to the outside exercise yard. Your cheeks were just beginning to cool when Din's faintly amused voice spoke softly to you.
"A "thing" hmmm?"
"Oh don't you start," you urged, holding up a warning finger toward him.
"Well....I can see it, that's all I'm saying." He paused briefly. "And there was that "thing" with Fett too." Apparently Tolea's hearing was excellent because at this she rounded on you, her face gleeful as you turned to Din, horrified.
"DIN!"
"Excuse me, what? Boba Fett the Bounty Hunter?! The one with the armour, yes? I just want to be clear!" Din's rumble of laughter at your face and Tolea's delight made your heart give a sudden squeeze. It had been so long since you had been with friends that you knew and trusted, and even though they were currently ribbing you mercilessly, you were so grateful to have them both in your life again. Your voice was teasing as you made your rejoinder.
"I'd be careful if I were you. You just asked me to spar and told me you were out of practice. Such a shame, what accidents can occur," you said breezily to Tolea. "As for you," you narrowed your eyes at Din and gently poked your finger at his breastplate, "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?!" He laughed at your meaningless threats and caught your hands before pressing his helmet to your forehead for the briefest moment.
"I should not have taught you that one," he said softly. "I mean...I beg your pardon, verd." Tolea was looking between you both, a little bemused.
"I'm going to assume you said something disgustingly private and leave it at that," she ventured.
"Close. I was threatening to smack him in the face. That's kind of Mandalorian courting, isn't it?" you teased.
"Excuse me!" he exclaimed, ruffled. "I'll show you Mandalorian courting!....That...wasn't supposed to sound like that," he added in a slightly defeated tone as both you and Tolea roared with laughter. The good natured teasing between the three of you lasted until you were almost at the exercise ground.
"Okay," Tolea breathed. "We have to be calm and act like actual adults for the children now." She tried to make her face solemn, but giggled slightly when she caught your eye as you were trying to do the same thing. "I missed you," she said as she patted your shoulder again and the warmth of your friendship sloshed between you like a tropical ocean wave. You managed to collect yourselves enough to greet the children with a modicum of decorum. Din settled himself on the edges of the training ground, a little apart from the Padawans - you assumed so as not to distract them. It worked, for the most part, although eyes would occasionally stray to where he stood, monolith-like in his size and stillness.
"As some of you may know," Tolea began, gesturing at you, "we both trained together at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant before the Empire came. We have spent many years apart, but the bonds of kinship as Jedi remain strong, as well as the bonds of friendship." She smiled fondly at the Padawans in front of her. "We would often practice our Forms with each other and train together. Hopefully, our bonds will show through there as well, despite the time apart." She took up her initial stance opposite you, and you followed her lead. As she ignited her lightsaber, you blinked in surprise.
"Yellow? That's new." Tolea smiled.
"I lost my lightsaber that night but I rebuilt it when I came here. There is an ancient Temple not too far from here. I found an old and broken lightsaber within it and was able to rescue its crystal and purify it as my own. It felt like it was meant to be mine, even more than my old one, somehow."
"We shall see how it serves you," you replied with a smile. "I'll go easy on you and spare you the double blade, for now." Tolea tutted at you, but there was warmth in her eyes. You began by slowly demonstrating various aspects of the Forms and explaining how to incorporate Force abilities within some of these aspects, but after a while the joy of training with your friend again overtook the teaching somewhat. It was as if everything else fell away and for a brief time you were both ten years old again, with so few responsibilities, delighting in your new lightsabers and your abilities. Tolea was far less rusty than she had lead you to believe and before long the sweat was running down your back. When you came to a natural break, you begged a few minutes and she gladly acquiesced. It was at this point that you noticed that the number of people observing had swelled considerably. Master Kholi had come to join you with his group of students and was looking with approval at yourself and Tolea.
"This is good to see," he commented. "I myself was never very skilled with weapons. I was a Healer at the Temple and never had much time for them. I am glad the children can learn from such as yourselves." He glanced over to Din who was holding Grogu protectively, the child's back against his chest. "I see the Mandalorian seems more inclined to stay. This too is good. I will see you both at the meeting."
Tolea and yourself set to pairing the children up according to ability. There were practice sabers for the very youngest that were little more than padded sticks and these were distributed. With Din holding tight to Grogu there was an uneven number, so Tolea herself matched with Loro. As you approached Din and Grogu, you could hear his soft words spoken toward the child.
"...know everything about how to defend yourself. We will make sure of it. You will be a great warrior one day. Like your buir." With these last words, he raised his helmet to you, and you realised he wasn't talking about himself. A surge of pride and love roared through you and as you came to Grogu and kissed his head, he reached out to be held by you a while. You took him and cradled him in your arms, so that he could continue to observe the training going on around him and stepped backward a little so that your back was resting against the right side of Din's body. His hand came discreetly to the small of your back and stroked you softly. "You were amazing, cyar'ika," he said softy. "I pity the person who gets in your way."
You beamed at his praise. "Perhaps you could teach the children too. I don't think many of them know how to handle a blaster. I'll raise it at the meeting." You turned around to him and could see his helmet tipped questioningly at you. "I don't know what the others will say, but to me it seems silly to have an expert in weaponry here and not take advantage of it. Your lessons saved my life many a time."
"Teaching children? Do you really think I'm suitable for that?"
"Absolutely. Why wouldn't you be? I had never taught children before I came here. Just...be yourself." You looked across at the training yard at the students. "See, you already have a fan," you added, amused. Alikas was watching you and Din and when she saw you looking, she waved at you, the distraction causing her opponent to be able to knock her training saber out of her hand. She scowled at him, reached her hand out to raise it from the ground and retrieve it, and redoubled her efforts in sparring.
"That one reminds me of you," said Din, and you could hear the smile on his lips through the beskar. "Fierce and unafraid to speak her mind."
"And this one," you said, planting another kiss on Grogu's head, "Reminds me of you. Stubborn and very cute." He chuckled and reached out a finger for Grogu to grasp.
"Where do I sleep tonight?" he asked softly. "And where do you?"
"I think that will depend on what is discussed later. We will have the evening meal first, and then it will be the children's bedtime." At your words, Grogu turned his head toward you with a hopeful coo, and an image came unbidden to your mind. "I'm sure there will be eggs for you, little one," you assured him.
There were indeed eggs, along with fruit and meats and bread and vegetables and a type of savoury pastry you had never had before, but you took to well. The mood at the table was jovial and light, despite the fact that Luke was nowhere to be seen. Alikas displaced you by sitting next to Din before you could this time, and she and Grogu giggled happily together as they shared in their meal. Once Grogu had eaten his fill and was merely playing with his food, Din tasked her with watching him while he gathered a plate of his own to eat. The child nodded solemnly at the request and Tolea squeezed your arm in a silent promise that she would watch over both children. Just before he left, Din took a small silver ball out of a tiny pocket on his belt. Grogu babbled a long stream of happy nonsense and reached for it, using his power to take the ball from Din's hand. Din huffed a small laugh of contentment and stroked Grogu's head softly before picking up his plate. You led Din out of the dining hall and to the right, down one of the corridors of the quadrangle to one of the classrooms where he could eat his meal in peace. After removing his helmet and sitting down with his back to the door, he attacked the food with fervour, having had nothing since breakfast and once his immediate hunger was sated, he stared around at the pale blue walls surrounding him and the windows that looked over the grassy plains.
"Why do you have such a big space for so few?" he wondered aloud.
"Partly because we are hoping that we will not be so few in the near future," you smiled at him. "But also because this structure is part of something more ancient. Certain planets have more of a connection with the Force than others. Or at least, the Force flows more freely through them. This is such a place and is one of the reasons Luke chose to found the Academy here. Other Jedi came here before us and also settled. Some of their buildings survived and were in turn built upon. You paused, then said more softly, "I wish you could have seen the old Temple on Coruscant. It was a thousand times the size of this. The amount of times I got lost, even after having lived there for years...And it was so beautiful. Vaulted ceilings that were so high you could barely see them, or it felt that way. carvings and tapestries of Jedi past everywhere. And a serenity that permeated it. As soon as you walked in you felt more at peace with the galaxy." You only realised that you were staring out of the window, when Din took your hand. You had been looking at the plains but actually seeing the slanted sunbeams coming through the windows of the Temple and hitting the marble floors.
As you came back to yourself Din said softly, "It was your home. You've told me that it was before, but I've never really seen you speak of it as such until now. I'm sorry I cannot offer you a place like that to live."
"Don't. I just need you. The ship feels more like home with you in it than it ever did when I was alone." You stroked your hands over the stubble at his jaw as you spoke and he moved his cheek against your hand, almost burrowing into your touch. "I love you, Din. I don't tell you nearly enough." His eyes met yours and they were soft and warm with his matching adoration of you. You leaned forward to capture his lips with your own and as you did, heard a slightly embarrassed cough from the direction of the door. You raised your eyes to see Tolea standing there.
"Sorry," she grimaced. "Its just, the children are about to prepare for bed and I thought you might like to say goodnight." Din put his helmet back on and stood, gathering his plate and cutlery as he did so. "Here I'll take that," she offered. "You go."
Instead of sleeping in one room, the children were now divided into three dormitories, and Loro had his own little room to himself next door to the younglings. It was strange to see how much had changed in the relatively short time you had been away. Grogu shared a room with Alikas and a little boy called Dann. Even if Luke hadn't mentioned Tolea's biological children, you would have recognised those eyes anywhere. As you went to tuck the children in, Din hung back a little by the doorway, clearly still unsure as to whether he should be there. But when Grogu reached for him, he went immediately, stroking his fuzzy little head and covering him over with the blankets in his crib. "Goodnight, kid," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."
Din and you went your separate ways shortly afterward - he returned to the Haldon while you joined the other Jedi in Luke's study. Luke looked pensive and a little worried as you entered and he immediately asked you about the Mandalorian.
"He is troubled. Less by what we spoke of and more about something deeper, something from his past. He has not spoken to me about that yet, but he is also concerned about the alliance you spoke of. Din has no desire to be the Mand'alor. He obtained the Darksaber almost accidentally. He wishes a peaceful transition of power to the Mandalorian who does wish to rule." Tolea and Ka-Moon both looked a little confused about what you were saying, so you set to telling them an abridged version of what had befallen the day that Luke had taken Grogu. "We have plans to meet with Din's people. After that we will have a better idea of how to proceed. He does not want another civil war amongst the Mandalorians, especially since they are already so few. But the Mand'alor must be determined by combat. There seems to be no way to reconcile these things. An overt alliance with the Jedi at this time would muddy the political waters even further and bring undue attention upon us here," you concluded.
"I understand his reaction a little more now. And yet a reluctant ruler can sometimes be the better kind. He does not seek power for himself, or for its own sake. What about the one that wants the throne?"
"I know little about her, other than Din considers her honourable. I trust his judgement." Luke nodded, looking thoughtful again. Tolea piped up, a little hesitantly.
"I don't mean to detract from the seriousness of the situation, but if he did choose to take the throne does that mean you would be a...queen?" You smiled at her. It was a question that had passed through your mind but that you had paid little real attention to.
"I don't think it works that way. There is only one ruler of Mandalore. There are few shades of grey in their society. I think I would be viewed as his consort, but would wield no actual power. That's if we were married, of course." The unadorned mention of why you were here caused a slight tension in the room for a few seconds before it relaxed and released, the bubble burst by your simple words. No one seemed surprised by your declaration and your suspicion that the others had at least sensed the feelings between Din and yourself seemed to have been proven right. That was if Luke hadn't just told them both outright.
"I am personally unsure about the wisdom of doing away with such rules," Ka-Moon said, a little stiffly. "We all know where such attachment can lead."
"So much has changed," countered Tolea. "The dangers of allowing attachment to drive emotion are still present, but how can we be away from the rigours of Temple life for almost twenty years and then return to that life as if nothing were different?"
"We cannot," agreed Ka-Moon, "But nor should we let go of everything that made the Order what it was."
"I agree," Luke chimed in, "But we should find a new way forward. The Order fell in part because it was not responsive enough to change. I believe we need to be more flexible in how we operate, now that we are so few."
"Forgive me, but you were not there. I do not believe you have sufficient knowledge of how the Order used to be run to be able to criticise it in such a way."
"But we all were," you interjected, "And Yoda himself trained Luke, and I agree with him."
"You have a vested interest in this particular discussion," pointed out Ka-Moon gently. "I am not dismissing your view, only pointing out the circumstances surrounding it."
"Then I too must have a vested interest," said Tolea. "Since my children are here. Would you have us leave, Master Kholi? If we are adhering to the old ways, the children should not be in my presence." She sighed. "We cannot go back. We must build what we can."
"Bringing force sensitive younglings to be trained is far different than seeking marriage. The children are already here, we cannot deny them. We need to nurture them and their abilities. Ratifying marriage within the Order is new territory and possibly dangerous."
"The Mandalorian and I will continue to live as we have," you pointed out. "Whether we speak the words or not, he is my husband in my life, in my heart."
"So what difference does it make?" asked Ka-Moon.
"Precisely," you answered.
The debate stretched. Tea was made and drunk and made again. The light had almost totally failed and only a few streaks of pale green across the blue of the sky to the north showed where the sun had been by the time a decision was made. Ka-Moon was still not entirely happy, but had come around to the idea of forging a new path for the Jedi. Afterward he confessed that his own heart ached for a past love that he had been forced to give up in service of the Order and you understood his reluctance a little more. When you had suggested that he go and seek him, as you had Din, he gave a sad smile and shook his head. "He died fighting the Empire a long time ago. But I wish you and your Mandalorian much happiness in your life together." You were grateful for his kind words and told him as much.
"So...how do we go about this? I mean, can we do this here? Soon?"
Luke smiled a little at your eager impatience. "I don't see why not. If you can find somewhere you want to conduct the ceremony. What will the ceremony be, anyway?"
"I don't even know. There is a very brief Mandalorian ritual but as to what I am bringing, I just don't know. I would like to have you all there, though. My family in attendance and to witness." Tolea was overjoyed for you and hugged you close with tears starting in her eyes as she did so. As the meeting broke up, she caught your hand in her own.
"Come with me, I want to give you something." Curious, you followed her to her chambers - which were dark panelled but hung with beautifully woven and brightly coloured tapestries all over, giving the impression that you were walking into some sort of botanical garden. She rummaged around in a trunk at the end of her bed and finally emerged with a folded garment in her arms. "This was-" she began before her voice cracked. You stroked her shoulder, encouraging her to go on if she could. "This was the dress I was wearing when I met my husband. Well...he was never my husband under the law. He died before...But I was going to use it for my wedding dress as well. If you like it, I want you to wear it."
"Tolea I...that's so wonderful of you. Are you quite sure?" She nodded, sniffling a little.
"It was supposed to be a wedding dress. It should be a wedding dress," she said, simply. "Try it on, we'll see how it suits you and if we need to adjust it anywhere." You gently shook the dress out. It was long and flowing, made of some material that seemed to catch and hold the breeze within it, and a beautiful lavender colour that rippled as it undulated gently. Tolea helped you put it on and aside from some minor adjustments to the waist, and the sleeves being a little too long it fit almost perfectly. Her eyes welled up again a little as she took in the sight of you and you thanked her profusely as you embraced. "I can't believe I have my friend back and now you're getting married? It's so strange! Do you remember those nights we couldn't sleep and would talk about what it would be like to have a "normal" life? We never expected we would actually do it!"
"I remember both of us being giggly over Master Kenobi," you said, laughing. "We weren't exactly model Jedi, even back then!" Tolea laughed and rummaged in the trunk again, coming up with a small sewing kit.
"Let me just adjust this a little for you. It will be finished by tomorrow." She took her measurements and made her markings and you gave the dress back into her capable hands before putting on your usual clothes. "Go tell Din the good news," she smiled as she shooed you gently out of her room.
Even though the hour was late, Din had not closed up the ship, clearly expecting that you would indeed visit after your meeting. As you approached, you wondered why he had not come out to meet you, as the sensors in his helmet would have told him of your approach in good time. Reasoning that he had perhaps become weary of his beskar again and was hiding out in the ship, you all but ran up the incline of the entrance ramp, calling him as you did. He was not in the hold and there was no reply. You opened the door to the room you shared, but he was not there. You couldn't hear the shower running in the fresher either. The elation you had felt was souring to anxiety in your stomach as you climbed the ladder to the cockpit where you found Din's hulking form slouched in the pilot's chair, his helmet thrown carelessly to one side and his right arm dangling loosely over the armrest, the hilt of the Darksaber in his hand. He did not turn at the sound of your approach and a brief moment of terror seized your heart when you thought he might be unconscious, or worse.
"Din?" you called again as you came up to the back of the seat, and this time he stirred a little, though his eyes never left the view from the cockpit window. "Din, what's wrong?" you asked as you came to his side and touched his elbow. Finally, he dragged his gaze to you. His eyes were lit with the same wildness that you had seen when he had kissed you in the rain but it was wrong somehow, muted, dulled, and sickly. A thin trail of dark blood leaked from one nostril.
"I can hear it," he frowned, his words slightly slurred and coming slowly. "Is this what you hear? How can you bear it?"
"You can hear what, Din?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm as you pressed the back of your hand to his head. His brow was both cold and slick with sweat.
"Everything," he panted. "Why can I hear it? I...I can feel it." His eyes grew suddenly wide and fearful, something you had never seen before and which chilled you to the bone.
"Din, you need to come with me," you said firmly. "You're unwell. Master Kholi will look over you and then you will be fine." This last part was more for your benefit than for his. There had only been one other time when he had acted in a similar way, long ago when you had first travelled with him, before you had ever known him fully. It had been such a silly mistake. As you had chased your quarry through a jungle landscape, he had tripped over a root and fallen headfirst into a bush. You had teased him mercilessly about it for the rest of the afternoon and all seemed well until the next morning. It transpired that as he had removed his beskar for the night, a thorn that had snagged on his clothing had scratched a jagged line onto his skin, its swift poison working its way through him as he slept. Even through his delirium he had managed to put his helmet back on before you found him. It had been his last rational thought for several days.
The beautiful depths of his eyes grew cloudy with confusion at your words. "But...you asked me. If I could feel it. And now I can."
"Its okay, kar'ta." you murmured soothingly to him. "Come with me, everything will be-" A thought struck you like a thunderbolt. "Din," you whispered haltingly, "Do you mean you can feel the Darksaber?" In reply he held the hilt limply up toward you, almost as an offering. It seemed to take all of his strength to make that simple movement. You gulped as you reached for it with trepidation, wanting to take the burden of it from Din, but not wanting you both to be afflicted with whatever it was that was happening. As your fingers closed around the hilt, a wave of sound and emotion hit you. Terror and abandonment and rage and screaming madness and the same thrumming that you had heard earlier as you had meditated, stronger this time and more defined as a heavy thumping the longer you held the hilt. As blackness crowded the edge of your vision, you dropped it to the floor of the ship. Din made tiny anguished noise at the sight and reached down weakly to grasp at it again. "No!" you exclaimed sharply as you pushed him gently but firmly back into his seat. "Leave it there!" You kicked the weapon away out of the reach of you both, the terrifying cacophony blasting through you for a second time as your boot connected with it. Din lay back into the pilot's chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he couldn't quite get enough oxygen into him. Quickly, you used the communication array to contact Luke, silently offering a prayer of gratitude when he answered almost immediately.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "I sense-"
"Get Ka-Moon and come to the ship. Din is ill. Please hurry." Luke disconnected at once and you turned your attentions back to the man in front of you, kneeling down beside him and taking his gloved hand in yours while stroking the sweat soaked strands of his hair back from his forehead. "Kar'ta, they will be here soon and we will make you feel better, I promise. Can we take some of your beskar off? You might be more comfortable when they arrive." His attention seemed to have meandered back to the cockpit window. You stood and looked outside yourself, but could see only the darkness of the plains ahead. Only starlight existed out there to illuminate anything and it wasn't enough. Bending back to Din, you began to remove his pauldrons. He did nothing to stop you, but nor did he assist. You weren't entirely sure he was able to move to help, nor that he was even aware of what you were doing.
Your mind was turning furiously, trying to piece together what had happened. Clearly he had been well enough to get up the ladder to the cockpit in the first place, so this was a relatively new affliction. But you had been at the meeting for hours. Who knew how long he had been here in this state? The thought of him experiencing the torment you had heard and felt for that long made you choke back a sob that tried to make its way up your throat, and you forced your mind back to rationality with some difficulty. When you had been on Artorias and had begun teaching him about lightsaber forms, you had asked him if he could feel anything from the Darksaber, if the crystal within it spoke to him as your lightsaber crystal spoke to you. He had replied in the negative. What had changed? Location was the most obvious answer. This planet was strong with the Force. Was it possible that he had a degree of Force sensitivity but that it took a planet like this for it to be strong enough to be noticeable? Or was the Darksaber reacting differently and not Din himself? You had held the weapon previously and had felt nothing like what you had just experienced. As your mind whirred you were removing his thigh armour and this time he moved his legs up a little, you believed in an attempt to give you easier access to the fastenings. Your heart gave a hopeful leap at this and as you pulled the beskar away you cradled his face and looked into his eyes. They were still hazy, with pain or confusion you couldn't tell, but his attention was fixed on you now, and he held your gaze. Both of which you took to be good signs.
"Its okay Din, it will all be okay. I love you. I love you so much. We will make you better, I promise. I'm here with you and it will all be okay." You were babbling a stream of near-meaningless nonsense, for your own benefit as much as his. You heard Luke's voice and footsteps approach up the incline of the ramp and pressed your lips against Din's briefly, thinking (hoping?) you felt him try to reciprocate. You stroked his face softly before easing him forward from the headrest and placing his helmet back on his head, calling to the Jedi below as you did so.
The next couple of hours were a nightmare whirlwind for you. Ka-Moon made his basic assessments of Din, but was hampered by the fact that you refused to allow him to take his helmet off. You had no idea what choice Din would make in this situation, given that Luke had already seen his face, but you were determined to err on the side of caution and to retain his dignity for him as far as possible. Din seemed to be able to move a little more as the minutes ticked by and eventually could stand, aided by a person on either side of him, though he seemed to have lost the ability to speak when you took the Darksaber from him. Getting him down the ladder was problematic to say the least. While his hands were still able to grip the rungs sufficiently, you ended up helping to physically move his legs while Luke was on standby to catch him, with the Force if necessary. Mercifully, there was a floating stretcher waiting in the hold and as you helped Din to lie back on to it, he groped for your hand and squeezed it when you gave it to him. It was a pitiful fraction of his usual strength, but it bolstered your courage and gave you hope in your heart. You ached for him, that people were witnessing his physical weakness and for the first and only time you hoped that his wits hadn't entirely returned, to spare him his shame. As you had appraised Luke of what you had experienced, he had wrapped the Darksaber in a thick woollen blanket that you had provided, taking care to only touch it with his gloved mechanical hand and looking grimly thoughtful as he did. Tolea was there to greet you at the door of the Academy again and she accompanied you all to the medical bay. Ka-Moon swore that he would not remove Din's helmet but requested that he be allowed a degree of peace to run his tests. You knew it was the best thing to do, but were also having trouble leaving Din's side. Much as you trusted in Ka-Moon's healing capabilities, you couldn't help but feel that somehow this was your fault and that by leaving Din alone you were compounding your mistake. Only when Din managed to breathe a shaky "Mesh'la" to you before stroking his thumb clumsily over your cheek did you feel he was recovered enough for you to be just outside the room. You kissed the top of his helmet and pressed your forehead against it before you left, accompanied by Tolea and Luke.
"What's happening? Did you feel anything from the Darksaber? How can I help him? What can I do?" you fired these questions in quick succession at Luke, your voice breaking on the last one. Tolea came to you and hugged you close.
"I have a theory," Luke began haltingly, "But its not complete...Tolea, tell me again what you saw when you went to the Temple." Tolea let you go and turned to face Luke, but before she did you saw the look of trepidatious realisation on her face.
"The Temple where you got your crystal?" you asked, frantically.
Luke nodded. "I don't know if you remember but just before you left to find Din, I mentioned that I thought I had found reference to an ancient temple nearby. When Tolea arrived she volunteered to go and find it if she could."
"There was something...bizarre about the place," Tolea said, her eyes a little distant. "The further in I explored the more untouched it looked. As if one day everyone had just flown away and left. I found a few useful things scattered around - datapads and the like. The only ruination I could see had been caused by the weather and so was mainly on the outside. Until I reached what looked like the meditation room. There were...bones in there. A lot of them. All jumbled up. And scorch marks from weapons on the walls. Its where I found the lightsaber that I took my crystal from. There were a few of them scattered around, but I was drawn to that one in particular..."
"Did you feel anything from the Temple?" you pressed. "Anything that might explain-" you broke off and gestured helplessly at the room behind you.
Tolea shook her head. "You were always the more perceptive of us," she answered. "I felt nothing but the sadness and emptiness of yet more death around me."
"I need to go there," you said instantly. "If it might help-" Luke held up a warding hand.
"I know its not what you want to hear," he cautioned, "But you must be patient. Do not rush in until we have more information." He spoke more loudly over you as you began to protest, "I know you want to feel like you are doing something. But he needs you here. Once he is back on his feet, you know he will follow you wherever you may go. And without knowing more about what has happened here, you might just be leading him into more danger." He was right, you knew he was right.
"So what can I do?" you whispered miserably.
"You can help me with my research. The Darksaber is a unique weapon in the galaxy as far as we know. And so much of its history is lost. We will start with information on its creator, Tarre Vizsla, and then-"
"Vizsla," you murmured. Luke looked at you, puzzled. "Vizsla was the name of the Mandalorian I met. The one I...lost my control with." Had it really only been the previous night that you and Din had been wrapped around each other in the magnificence of that bed? It seemed like weeks ago. "I knew I recognised the name, but I couldn't think why. I have read about Tarre Vizsla before. Do you think it is relevant?"
"At this point, I don't want to rule anything out," Luke said grimly.
"Can you spare a datapad? I don't want to move too far from here."
Luke's eyes and voice softened a little as he replied. "Of course," he said. "I'll upload everything I have been able to find out about this planet and the Darksaber and I'll bring it to you." Tolea was the one who actually brought you the datapad. She came to you twenty minutes after Luke had departed and she also brought along water, some fruit and a couple of large colourful patchwork cushions that you recognised as having been on her bed earlier.
"In case you want to be a little more comfortable," she explained as you gratefully accepted them. There were no chairs in the corridor and the toll of the day had begun to make itself known to you. "No news?" she enquired, her eyes flicking toward the medbay door. You shook your head wordlessly, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. She brought you in for a hug again. "Everything will be okay," she soothed as she stroked your hair. "He is strong. He will be just fine."
"What do I-" your voice broke and you stopped to take deep breaths before continuing. "How do I tell Grogu?" you whispered miserably. "He's only just got Din back and now..." Tolea took your face in her hands and looked into your eyes.
"You won't need to tell Grogu anything because Din will be fine," she insisted. You nodded sadly and Tolea sat you down on one of the cushions, positioning herself on the other opposite you. "Can I ask something?" she spoke hesitantly and you nodded for her to continue. "What did he say to you in there? That word that made you come away." You felt your eyes well up and had some difficulty controlling the spasms of grief that passed across your face. "I'm sorry," Tolea apologised hurriedly. "I shouldn't have-"
"It's ok," you said, your voice a little wobblier than you would have liked. "It's Mando'a. He called me 'Mesh'la'. Its his name for me, when we're together. I don't think he's ever said it quite that publicly before. It means 'beautiful'." And for some reason, that was the word that broke the through the dam you had tried so hard to keep strong. Tears flooded down your face in a silent stream as Tolea held you against her shoulder, stroking over your back through your shuddering breaths.
Once you were calm, you insisted Tolea go to get some rest. It would already be a challenge to focus on the datapad in front of you, when Din was so close and yet so out of reach. You didn't want to hurt Tolea's feelings, but you did not want an additional distraction to your task. She left, but only once she had extracted a promise from you that you would call her if you needed her for anything. Once you settled back down on the cushions and began to read, you realised that much of Luke's research was more of a reminder of what you had already known than anything new. Tarre Visla had been the first Mandalorian to train as a Jedi on the Temple on Coruscant. He had created the Darksaber as a way to marry his Mandalorian and Jedi identities and it had later become a symbol of power among Mandalorians, Vizsla himself using the weapon while he was the Mand'alor. After he had died, the Jedi had brought the Darksaber back to the Temple and it had been kept there until members of House Vizsla had taken it back and used it to unite the Mandalorian clans. That had been during the fall of the Old Republic, over a thousand years ago and its history was shrouded in mystery for many centuries thereafter.
More interesting was what he had been able to discover about the Temple that lay not far to the East. It had been a Jedi stronghold towards the end of the Jedi-Sith wars, around the same time that Vizsla was alive, and although it was small it was apparently of some strategic importance to both sides. There were reports of frequent Sith attacks, all of which seemed to be successfully repelled by the Jedi stationed there. However, the last report that Luke had been able to find had some interesting details that caught your eye. The Sith that had attacked on this occasion were bolstered by a cell of highly trained fighters that had managed to withstand the Jedi offensives, even though they themselves were not Force users. And there was a mention of a "Hunter" that stalked the plains, picking off any unwary Jedi that strayed too far from the confines of the Temple. The very last line of this account was a desperate plea to Coruscant for extraction, with a warning that the Temple was now unviable and a line that sent a chill down your spine; "They did not conquer, they did not have to. They were always here. They will always be here."
As you pondered the implications of those words, the door behind you opened and Ka-Moon's kindly face looked down at you. "Come in," he invited, and you scrambled to your feet to do just that. Din was sitting up on one of the beds, his back to the wall and with one leg on the bed and one on the floor, as if he were about to attempt to walk. His remaining beskar, cape and gloves were piled on a chair near to the bed, but his helmet was on. "Don't let him do too much," Ka-Moon was saying as you made your way across the floor to Din. "He needs rest. I will be back shortly." You thanked him a little distractedly as he withdrew from the room, and then turned your attention fully to Din. He moved to take the helmet from his head and you gladly assisted him. He looked exhausted, but much more himself and you couldn't stop the tears that spilled from your eyes as you bent and kissed his lips tenderly.
"Kar'ta," you whispered, as you gathered him to your chest and pressed him close. "I was so worried. I thought...I thought I had lost you."
"Never," he replied, his voice a little raspy. "It will require more than that to take me from you, cyar'ika." You took his face in your hands and scanned him, even as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. There was no evidence of physical hurt to him, even his nose had stopped bleeding. His eyes were his own again and that pleased you more than anything.
"What happened?" you asked as you sat yourself on the bed, holding his hands in your own. "What do you remember?" He was shaking his head at the questions.
"Ka-Moon asked me the same and I will tell you what I told him. I went back to the ship to attend to my weapons and beskar while you were in your meeting. I did so and took a shower afterward. That is all I remember." You frowned.
"You don't remember getting dressed? Putting your beskar back on? Going to the cockpit?" He shook his head at each question as you fired them. "When do your memories return?"
"I have flashes but I don't know if they are real memories or not. I remember taking my helmet off but I don't remember why. I remember a voice. Not yours. But a woman's. And...other noises." He visibly shuddered and then pulled himself together. "The sky. The sky was on fire. I remember your face. You took some of my armour off. And you held my hand. I remember reaching out to touch your face. Then everything seemed to settle in my head but you weren't there anymore. I've felt more like myself again for half an hour or so."
"Do you remember what this woman you heard said?" He frowned, his eyes focused on the floor but not really seeing it.
"She wanted something from me. I don't know what. I can't remember what she said, but I remember her hatred. Its still in my mind, like a bad taste I can't get rid of." He shook his head as if to dislodge what he was feeling.
"Are you in pain?" you asked him gently.
"My head hurt. He gave me something for it." He paused. "What happened to me?" You explained the situation from your point of view. When you came to talk about the Darksaber, Din almost absent-mindedly groped behind his back to feel for it and you gently took his hand in yours again.
"Luke has it. It seems to be connected with what happened but we aren't sure how yet." As you continued with your story, the crease between his eyes deepened until he was fully frowning at your words. You made sure to skate lightly over how much assistance he had required from the ship to the medbay and he didn't seem much inclined to ask. Your story ended with what you had read on the datapad and your own conclusion that you had drawn. "I have to go to the Temple, to investigate."
"Mesh'la-" he began, warningly.
"No, Din. I have to go. I need to stop this ever happening to you again, and for that I need information."
"Then I come with you." He made as if to heave himself off the bed, but you halted his progression gently with one hand.
"You need rest right now. I will not be going any time soon. I still need to see if Luke has discovered anything new." Din reluctantly settled himself back against the wall. When you spoke again, you did so hesitantly, not wanting to make him relive his traumatic experience quite so soon, but also needing answers only he could provide. "I know you say you remember nothing," you began, "but you said to me that you could hear the Darksaber, that you could feel it. Do you recall taking it out? Or using it? Or anything unusual about it from this evening?" Din frowned again in concentration and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there and he was safe. He spoke haltingly when he replied.
"When I cleaned my weapons, I held the Darksaber and switched it on to check it was all in order. But I remember that clearly, there was no voice then, nothing was wrong. It was all as it should be. I think...the Darksaber was the way that the woman could speak to me. But I don't know why I think that, I just have a feeling."
"Trust your feelings," you urged. "And let me know if anything else comes back to you. But for now, you must rest." You moved to the other side of the bed to settle next to him. "I am here, kar'ta," you murmured, as he lay down on his side and faced you. You kissed his forehead and held him close and within no time at all his breathing was deep and even as he fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion. After you had moved carefully and quietly back out of the room, you found Ka-Moon and informed him of Din's helmetless and sleeping state, promising him you would return shortly. Then you made your way to Luke's study where you were not surprised to find Tolea assisting in the research he had promised.
"I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "Not when everyone else was awake and doing something." You nodded and squeezed her hand gratefully before sitting in a chair next to her and putting forward the theory that had started to come together in your mind.
"I think that the Darksaber was here on this planet before, a thousand years ago. There is a mention of what sounds very much like a mercenary band of Mandalorians in that information you gave me, Luke. And a reference to a Hunter picking off Jedi, which may also have been one of their number. If Mandalorians and the Sith were working together here, is it not possible that the Darksaber was...infused? With some kind of memory perhaps. If one of the Sith were that strong, could they have done such a thing? And now that the weapon is back here, the echoes of it are strong enough to reach out and try to connect with us. If Din has any Force sensitivity it would explain why he was affected so badly. With no training to shield him, his mental defences would be minimal. I know its not a perfect explanation, but I think it fits a lot of the pieces together."
Luke seemed to ponder what you had proffered in silence for a time. "I have heard of artifacts and weapons retaining an essence of their owners, if their owners were sufficiently powerful in life," he mused. "I am troubled greatly by all of this. Not just because of what has happened to Din, but for the future of the Academy. I thought I felt a darkness...somewhere. I thought it was the remnant of what had happened between you and Vizsla, but now I begin to suspect it is something more. I have had dreams here and there ever since Tolea got back from her exploration, and I should have paid them more attention." He slapped his mechanical hand on the desk, and rose to pace the room.
"When you held the Darksaber, did you feel anything from it?" you enquired.
"No. And that troubles me too. How could someone who is not Force sensitive as far as we know hear it and I not? Unless..." he trailed off and turned to you. "Unless whatever was possessing it had got what it wanted. If possession is the right word. There's still so much we don't know."
"Which is why I need to go," you insisted.
"I will go myself," Luke said. "You are too close to this. If something is targeting you or Din, you need to stay far away from there. And I will not go until I am sure I have learned all I can about this situation." He spoke more softly toward you. "Go to him. Its the best thing you can do right now. And if you can, get some rest. We will resume tomorrow morning."
"The children-" you began.
"The children will be fine," Tolea interjected calmly. "And there is no sense in worrying about them or Grogu right now. Din may well be fully recovered tomorrow. Give it a night and see." You looked between she and Luke, feeling somehow that they were ganging up on you, even though what they were saying was perfectly logical and, you suspected, the right thing to do. You nodded and rose to leave the study.
"Before you go," Luke added, "Could you make out any words in what you were hearing when you held the Darksaber? Anything that might help?"
You shook your head slowly. "I don't think so. It was like a wall of sound. Of screaming in pain and anger and a weird thumping noise. But I should tell you something else that happened to me earlier." And you proceeded to inform him of your dream that you had had while meditating. "I don't know if its related, but the thumping kind of sounded the same and it seems like too much of a coincidence to not be linked."
"Agreed," Luke mused. "Go. I'll catch up with you tomorrow."
As you made your way back to the medbay, your mind was spinning once again. It was logical that Luke be the one to investigate the Temple, but something didn't sit entirely comfortably within you at that notion. You couldn't identify why, but you had a deep feeling that you should be the one to sort this mess out. Din was the most important part of your life and you wanted to be sure that proper justice would be done for the hurt he had suffered. Not that you didn't trust Luke, but you felt that with your additional investment in the situation, perhaps you would be more motivated to get answers. There was a part of you that wanted to just go, leave, fly off in the Haldon and fix it now, now, now. But you resisted the impulse. Din needed you and he came first. When you re-entered the room, Ka-Moon seemed to be running some tests, Din was sat up on the bed, his face covered once again.
"Well, the good news is that you are in wonderful physical shape," he was telling Din as he removed a sensor from the end of his finger. "And if you say you feel fine there isn't much more I can do for you at the moment. I would perhaps ask that you remain here overnight..." He trailed off as Din shook his head.
"I don't like hospitals," he grunted. "I won't get any rest."
"I'll be with him," you told Ka-Moon. "We'll go to my chamber here so we will be close by if anything happens." He inclined his head at you in acquiescence and moved off. Din reached for you as you approached and you took his hand and helped him to his feet. He was quite steady and apparently didn't need to lean on you. "Do you feel okay?" you asked. He nodded, but kept hold of your hand as he gathered his belongings from the chair.
Your chambers had remained almost untouched since your departure many months before. The droids had been in to clean and air the room and fresh bedding had been put on, so it wasn't dusty or dank, but it did have that sense of being unlived in that places get after a time with no one moving around in them. You lit the lamp by your bed and its soft yellow light permeated the room. Din shut the door behind him and deposited his clothes and armour on top of your dressing table, topping it with his helmet and then taking some time to look around him. The space was sparsely furnished and decorated. Everything that had meant the most to you, you had taken along with you upon your departure. Not that there was much, even then. The walls were dark panelled, similar to the room Tolea inhabited and this gave the room a cocoon-like quality. Strip lights were embedded in the walls, but you chose to leave them unlit - right now you wanted to make the room as conducive to sleep as possible. Some hangings in purple, pink and blue decorated the wall behind your bed. Their colours had reminded you of sunset on Naboo and you had bought them on impulse some years before. You had rescued Tolea's cushions from outside of the medbay and you stacked them neatly next to Din's armour before moving to the window and closing the curtains.
"Wait," Din instructed before you could block out the outside world entirely. He came up behind you, slid his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he did and pulling you flush against his body. "I want to see the view."
"You can see much more of it when its not the middle of the night, Din," you smiled.
"Perhaps I meant the other view," he murmured as his finger snagged on the neckline of his undershirt, hanging so much more loosely than your usual garments and giving him an eyeful of your cleavage. You smiled fondly at his persistence and impetuosity.
"You just had quite an ordeal. Is this really the first thing you want to do?" you asked, half expecting it to be a rhetorical question. He held you even tighter to him and you were astonished to feel his breath hitch a little behind you. You tried to turn to him, to see his face and take him in your arms, but he held you firmly against him.
"I...just need you, cyar'ika. I do not know what happened today and that scares me. That is twice I have been afraid today, and twice I have told you so. What is happening to me? I do not think this place...I do not think it is for the likes of me. Perhaps there is a reason that there were no other Mandalorian Jedi. Maybe these worlds are not supposed to mix in this way." It shocked you, the uncertainty in his voice. It was so unlike Din to sound unsure. Even when he had no idea what he was doing, he would plough on ahead and try until he got the result he wanted through sheer force of will and bloody mindedness.
"You have me, Din. Always," you reassured him and all at once you remembered that amidst all of the worry and trauma of the afternoon, you had still not given him the good news. You squeezed his arms tighter around you and turned your face toward him, your lips brushing lightly over the tip of his nose as you added "If you still want me forever."
You heard the initial confusion in his voice as he said "Of course, why would I-" and the sudden joy that infused his words as he realised what you meant. "We will marry? You will not have to leave the Order?" He turned you to him as he spoke and held your upper arms. You smiled your answer at him and his lips crashed excitedly against yours. "Can we-I mean...I still don't know if you have a ritual to follow. But I want to do this. Now, if we can."
"Right now?" He nodded and cradled your face in one of his hands.
"I need you," he repeated.
"Don't we need someone to officiate? A witness?"
"Usually the head of the Clan is the one to hear the vows. I am the head of the Clan. I am...well, I am head of all the Clans..." he trailed off In a slightly embarrassed way and then continued swiftly as his eyes darted back to you. "We can reaffirm in front of the Tribe when we see them. We can do whatever ritual you wish in front of your Order. But I have been without you as my riduur for long enough. Besides, I wish to look upon you with my own eyes when we are joined."
"Yes," you whispered joyfully. "Let's do this." His smile was like the sunrise as he leaned forward to kiss you softly.
"I must teach you the words first," he smiled. He did and you spoke them slowly together, promising unity in all things, to share your lives in love forever and to raise Grogu and any other children you might have as warriors and looking with love and devotion upon the other as you did. He kissed you again afterward, the beautiful swell of his lips tenderly caressing over yours, the promises that had fallen from them captured between you in unbreakable bonds.
"My riduur," you murmured as you pressed your cheek against his chest, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat and his arms encircling you. "My love."
That night you held him. He lay on your bed with his back to you, looking out over the inky blackness of the planet's nightscape. One hand was around his stomach and curling up to his chest, stroking over his marred skin, and the other was softly stroking his curls while you placed occasional chaste kisses across the top of his back and shoulders, inhaling the heady masculinity of his scent as you did so. Your leg was hooked over his, resting against the sturdy muscle of his thigh and he stroked you there softly, seeming to just want the reassurance of your proximity. Long after he fell asleep you remained awake, your mind still unable to settle after the trauma of the day and the exhilaration of finally being joined with Din in all ways. He stirred a little, a small grunt emanating from him as he twitched in his sleep. Perhaps he too was reliving what had happened. You sent soothing, calm, loving feelings toward him and held him closer and he settled again, breathing a deep sigh and muttering nonsense to himself. Just before the dawn quite made itself known, when the sky was still blue enough to see the stars you succumbed to your weariness, slipping into a dreamless, formless unconsciousness but safe in the knowledge that Din was with you, now and always.
I'm a sucker for tattoo shop AUs (Deep in the Heart of Me is my favorite fic EVER), and I can imagine Tony being the manager of a famous shop, and accepting stray artists that want to find a job and are poor/homeless/lost (among which Bucky, Clint and Nat), and just giving them a goal, a home and a future and ARG
Thank you for reminding me of the beauty that is tattoo AUs!!!! I can’t believe I forgot about this to be honest, I used to adore them in almost every fandom, but I haven’t thought of them in ages until I got your ask! I’m unfamiliar with the fic you’ve mentioned–I don’t read a lot of Stony–but I think I’ll give it a try! But for now, let’s get back to this AU.
I really like the idea of Tony being this crazy, loveable owner of a tattoo shop who hires very questionable people under ridiculous circumstances because he’s insane like that. I also headcanon that said questionable people are very protective of their smol boss because of it.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” the stranger snarls disturbingly animalistic.
“Uhm.” Tony stares at the knife—a real knife and definitely not one for the kitchen—and scruffles a tiny step backwards. Backs against a wall before he has the chance to bring a little more distance between himself and Stranger With Knife.
Damn those walls and the stupid people that build them.
He’s going to die here, alone, in an abandoned backstreet. Where nobody will find his body until they’ll have to hold the funeral with a closed coffin. If they’ll ever find his body.
There’s probably a life lesson in here, about how you’re not supposed to follow unknown men a head taller than you and double your weight in muscles into an abandoned backstreet for one. But Tony’s attention is too fixated on the knife to care much about unimportant details like that.
For once, he hysterically thinks, Rhodey won’t be able to scold me for my messed up priorities.
“I won’t ask again!” the man hisses dangerously. He’s got shaggy hair that could do with a cut and a wash, and his eyes flicker with the same restlessness that drew Tony to him initially.
And fine, he probably shouldn’t have followed the guy. He can see how this could be considered “creepy” by people less fluent in Tony-speak than Pepper or Rhodey. Natasha will undoubtedly slap him—gently, because she’s secretly a poisonous snake who’s adopted Tony as this weird, bumbling kitten that will not get killed by anyone but her—for this later. You know, if there is a later.
“I was wondering if you want to work for me,” Tony blurts out because he can’t think of anything else to say. Also because it’s true.
“I’m not fuckin’ work for hire!” the man growls. “I don’t do that shit anymore, so either back the fuck off or I’ll make sure you won’t need anything anymore!”
Alright. Tony decidedly isn’t going to ask what the guy’s going on about. Nope. Absolutely not. That would just be too stupid, even for him.
“What are you talking about?” he asks and promptly wants to knock himself out. At least that might improve his chances to not talk himself into an early death. Clint will not be impressed if he misses is 8 o’clock appointment tomorrow and he has to cover for Tony—neither will the customer. Clint isn’t useful for anything before eleven in the morning.
The man’s eyes—they’re a cold blue that would look a lot prettier if they weren’t levelling a glacial glare at Tony right now—narrow even further, the knife itching ever so slightly closer towards Tony, and nope, not a fan of that development at all.
“Look,” Tony decides to try and deescalate the situation, “You don’t have to answer that. Actually, please don’t answer that, because this sounds too much like one of those I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you thingies and Natty would not be pleased if you did. You know, kill me. Unless you tell her I called her Natty again. For some reason she really doesn’t like that? But what do I know, women are weird,” he muses with a shrug.
“Right, I was trying to make a point. See, you could just wave your knife around and possibly- probably kill me, which would really suck. Cause I’m not a big fan of being dead before my liver gives out on me and you don’t look like you’ve got another jacket, and blood is a bitch to get out.” Not that it would be much of a loss, with the oversized, worn down thing the man’s wearing. It looks like it’s being held together by stubbornness and nothing else.
He might have said that last part out loud as well, if the guy’s twitch is anything to go by. Tony can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.
“Or,” he hastily continues, “you could listen to my gracious proposal, accept it with genuine appreciation and enthusiasm and in two years we’ll both laugh about this moment.” He finishes with a bright smile and a happy clap. Screw Natasha and Pepper, he can be reasonable and mature. He’s not the one waving a butcher knife around after all.
Said knife is slowly lowered by the stranger who tilts his head to one side in a show curiosity. He seems—amused, almost. Or maybe that’s Tony’s screwed perception of reality talking. Clint’s mentioned he has a problem at one point, something about seeing a ravaging monster and cooing over it and wanting to pet it. Which is nonsense, Tony doesn’t want to pet anything. Except maybe the guy’s hair, once it’s been properly cleaned. And that’s not his fault, it looks like it could be fluffy.
“I’m listening,” he drawls, almost like he’s humouring Tony. The joke’s on him though, because Tony is used to being humoured.
“Do you know Stark Tower? What a stupid question, of course you do, but just in case you don’t, it’s the best tattoo studio in the entire country, trust me on that, and it happens to also belong to me. You’d look great with a couple of tattoos by the way, really help round off that assassin-gone-rough vibe you’ve got there, and I’d totally do them for free or maybe not free. Pepper says I’m not supposed to give people things all the time, but you wouldn’t tell on me, right?”
“Anyways, I saw this,” Tony lifts the crumbled paper he’s rescued from the garbage at the café he’s first noticed Mr Tall, Dark and Knifey—and hadn’t that led to a fun conversation with the waitress—and waves it around as if to stress his point, “and you’ve got some real talent with the abstract design there, because this is amazing and I’d want it as a tattoo, wich says something, my taste is fantastic. Also I’m missing a designer because that asshole Wade keeps running off to do one thing or another and I’m not allowed to hire Peter until he’s legal.”
The guy stares at him in bemusement while Tony tries to catch his breath. Admittedly not an uncommon reaction.
“You’re offering me a job?” he asks after a moment in disbelief—and damn, this guy is catching on to Tony-speak real quick, he’s the right choice all right.
“Yup,” Tony nods. He’s thought he’s been fairly obvious.
“You’ve been following me for two subway stations, three bus stops and a couple of dozen street corners to offer me a job because you saw something I’d scribbled down at a café,” the man repeats incredulous.
Tony shrugs. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. Clint says I come on too strong usually.”
“And you thought stalking me would make me feel more at ease?”
“Well, no.” Tony frowns. “Maybe? I wasn’t—but doesn’t prolonged exposure get you used to someone?”
“Prolonged- never mind,” the guy shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
A pause, then, “I don’t need a job.”
Tony scoffs. “Have you looked at yourself lately?” he asks, mulls over his words for a moment when the man tenses. “Alright, that might have come across as offensive but seriously. I don’t care if you need a job or not, it’s yours if you want it. Just show up sometime next week and tell Natty I hired you and if Clint is there please throw your knife at him, he’s an ass and screams like a banshee.” Tony searches his pockets for a moment before he finds one of his, admittedly worse for wear, business cards and offers it to Mr Death By Blade.
“You’re crazy,” the man states again, but he takes the card.
“Get used to it,” Tony smiles is sunniest smile because take that Clint, he can hire new staff without getting anyone killed.
*
“Have you ever even held a tattoo gun in your life? It’s not a real gun, for fuck’s sake! Tony!” Clint is heard screaming in exasperation through the studio a couple of days later. “What the fuck where you thinking when you hired Bucky?!”
Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully drawing the worlds’ prettiest butterfly onto a young woman’s shoulder when he yells back, “Who the hell is Bucky?!”
*
[Bonus: “You’re taking all this surprisingly well,” Bucky comments at one point.
Clint shrugs. Takes a look at one of the designs over the newbie’s shoulder.
“Tony’s as fucked in the head as they come, but he’s a freaking genius at finding the best. If he’s hired you than that’s what you are. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
A moment of thoughtful silence follows, before.
“In three weeks, I’m gonna tell you how he hired Tasha.”
“Why in three weeks?”
“Studio rule. If you’ve made it three weeks without killing anyone, you’re part of the team.”
