It had been a quiet shift. Minor calls and lots of downtime. That usually meant sharks circling until they caught blood in the water. And, well, Eddie had made the mistake of asking Buck if he'd taken the laundry out of the dryer before they'd left for work that morning in full earshot of the peanut gallery. Hen had snapped her book shut with a resounding snap, Chimney perked up like a meerkat, even Bobby looked up from his chopping board. Ravi, at least, had the decency to hunker down in his seat and pretend to be texting someone.
The interrogation was instant. Dizzying. Hen and Chim lobbing questions and jokes back and forth with a terrifying efficiency.
How long has it been now? Couch killing your back, Buckaroo? Is he driving you crazy yet, Diaz? Are his socks everywhere? Do you split the bills fifty-fifty? Is Christopher sleeping okay, you know, with all the snoring?
And Eddie had watched, a frown tugging at the furrow of his brow, Buck shrink further into the couch with every question. It wasn't until Bobby asked what their long term plan was that Eddie intervened.
It's been two months. We share the bed. I missed him while I was gone, it's nice having him around all the time. His socks were everywhere long before he moved in. Yes, we go halfsies on the bills. Buck's snoring is white noise now, we struggled to sleep without it in Texas.
He'd ignored Bobby's question. Couldn't touch that one. Not in front of everyone else. Not when he hadn't plucked up the courage to talk to Buck about it at home quite yet. And he would! He was working on it. Because living with Buck was... Revolutionary. Eddie couldn't fathom why they hadn't been doing this the whole time. Because home had never felt so much like home before. And he wanted it to be permanent. Not this delicate limbo everyone seemed to think they were stuck in.
Eddie wanted to carpool to work every single day, never wanted to drive his stupid fucking vomit-smelling Honda again. He wanted to divvy up the chores every Monday. Wanted to clean the dishes whilst Buck dried every night for the rest of his life. Wanted to crawl into bed beside Buck and, well, he wanted a lot more than that. He was working on that too. He just needed a little more time.
(or: eddie knows what he wants, buck doesn't, they slow dance)
Its comfortember again!! A few days late bc while I wrote this on the first day I wrote this to my notebook lol anyways this one is Cass Apocalyptic Future fanfic ( by @/somerandomdudelmao) if you haven't check it out yet, go and read it!! (if you want ofc)
Sometimes Donnie forgets he and his family are safe now.
Fandom: ROTTMNT (CAS AU) | 330 Words | hurt/comfort | click for AO3 | takes place after episode 17, beware of spoilers
Leo, Raph and Mikey were all back. Donnie, with Casey’s help had made that certain. They time traveled, came back to life.
But there were times Donnie would have nightmares about everything going wrong. Him not being able to save them, or him getting sick again. As if he still was in danger. As if the Krang would come back and destroy everything he fixed, and everything he’d fix.
Then his family would join him whenever he woke up with shaking breaths. Some nights Donnie would get up and sit, working on his plans for fixing more things. To bring back more of what he lost, or to make what he had better. It relaxed him, somewhat. Then he’d find out Leo joining him, ask about what he was doing, and comforting without even asking or talking about his worries. Some nights he would just curl next to one of his brothers. Then Raph would sense his worries and give him one of his most comforting hugs ever (and they would be so warm, just like the old times, when they were much younger). Donnie would gladly snuggle, accepting the feeling of being protected and loved. Mikey would be awake sometimes, and he would tell him about some dumb things his brothers while Donnie was away.
Donnie would forget his worries as they accompanied him. They were here, alive, by his side. He had done it and pulled them back to his side. He had not let anything stop him; Krang, illness, death. He, alongside him Casey, saved them and was reunited with them.
And most importantly they were safe. The Krang were no more, the war was over (even before it started in this timeline). They no longer had to save resources, to be always on alert.
Leo, Raph, Mikey, they all were safe, and so was Casey. And his family was here to remind that. Remind him that everything was okay. That he was safe.
happy valentine's day. have this thing! based on this post by @aedan-mills :)
it's on ao3 :D
Out of everyone Richard has met, Charles Dalton has to be the most infuriating of them all. It's only a bit shocking, if he was going to be honest. Richard has met a lot of people, having been dragged by his parents to multiple gatherings (being the one to have the most hope out of all his siblings back at home to have a successful life) and the like, rich and poor. And Charlie grew up to be an only child in a rich family.
We all know how that goes most of the time.
Still, you have to give the guy some credit for being the biggest asshole Welton has.
It sucks that Richard seems to be his only target, though.
“Holy shit look!” Charlie exclaims the moment Richard walks in the room. The redhead sighs. “It's the virgin!”
Everyone in the room rolls their eyes, and Richard is glad that he's not the only one who's tired of his constant bullying. It's getting old, really, and everything's getting reused.
“You're a virgin, too, Charlie,” Richard mumbles, taking a seat beside Todd and opening his Trigonometry book. “We all are.”
“Wh–am not!” the brunet sputters, but Richard isn't listening anymore, already scribbling formulas on a piece of paper. “At least I attract women! Unlike you, you're more of a woman repeller.”
“Okay Charlie,” Richard says, “whatever you say.”
Todd snickers quietly beside him, and the redhead gives him a small smile. Todd smiles back.
Charlie fumes silently. Neil watches in amusement.
——
“You're a real stick in the mud, you know?” Charlie huffs, but it's not as hostile as Richard expected it to be. He blinks, slowly organising his desk. He'd decided to retire to bed a few minutes ago, when it was silent and he was sure that his roommate was sleeping.
“Yes,” he answers, despite knowing that it was a rhetorical question. “I do.”
“Huh,” Charlie mumbles, and Richard rolls his eyes. “Maybe if you, I don't fuckin' know, relaxed once in a while, you'd actually get some girls.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie,” Richard groans, but he already expected it. The punchline of the fucking joke, whatever it is. “I don't even want to date girls right now.” And it's true, he doesn't. He's too busy to care, really. School's taking up most of his time, and the Dead Poets Society meetings are really one of his only escapes. He's grateful for it.
“Wait,” Charlie says, bolting upright from his spot. Richard thinks that the way the moonlight is shining on him is quite beautiful, but there's slight amusement in his tone, and he braces for whatever tease is going to be thrown at him. “Holy shit, Cameron, are you gay?”
“What?” Richard asks, monotone and blank. His brain had stopped working, and he doesn't know if it's because he's tired or if it's because he's kind of getting lost in Charlie's grin. “Wha–you know what? I'm too tired to deal with this. Goodnight, Dalton.” He takes the former with open arms.
“Holy shit, I'm rooming with a gay guy,” is what Richard hears before he decides to block out the world and focus on sleeping.
Despite Dalton's recent “discovery”, as he calls it, there are no rumours being murmured about Richard the next day. No side-eyes, no clear distaste on anyone's face. The brunet makes sure to stick to the regular programming, too. Just the usual “you get no bitches” comment, nothing else.
It's more than usual, but at least he's not getting called gay. Which he's not.
Richard's not gay. At all. Straight as a ruler, Richard Cameron. Yep.
“How's being unfuckable treating you, Dick?” Someone please end Richard's misery. All he wants to do is study with Todd and Neil, but Dalton’s not really helping. It’s nothing new, obviously, but a bit of silence can really do Richard wonders.
“Amazingly,” he retorts half-heartedly, “how’s not having anyone ask you out to prom treating you, Dalton?”
It’s not that Richard intended to boast. He didn’t even want to tell them about the stupid prom. It just… slipped. And it’s not like he’s telling the full truth either.
“What?” Dalton hisses, but there’s barely any venom in his tone. He’s surprised, that’s all. “You got what?”
“I got asked out,” Richard says, shrugging with a smirk, because if he’s going to lie—as horrible as it feels to him—, might as well let it last, right? “A girl asked me out, Charlie. Do they ask you out?”
Is he taking it a bit too far? Maybe. Does he care? Yes, but only a little bit. The look on Dalton’s face is enough to satisfy Richard and his odd desire to wipe the smirk off his face. Maybe it didn’t happen in the way he wanted to, but at least it’s not there to taunt him anymore.
“You—wha—I—!” Dalton stutters as Richard opens his textbook, cheek in hand.
“Close your mouth Charlie, you might catch flies.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks.”
——
The next few weeks are more unbearable than usual. It’s Charlie’s doing, of course. Because why wouldn’t it be? It’s like the guy has made it his personal mission to make every second of Richard’s life a living hell. It probably is, if Richard is going to be honest. The teasing still consisted of him not “having game” (which, apparently, means that he can’t attract women, of course. Typical), but this time there would be an off-handed comment or two about how his date was probably forced to ask Richard out. Pity, Charlie says.
Which is almost close to the truth, but Richard won’t say that out loud. Not near Charlie.
“Can’t believe that girl would ask out a queer like you,” Charlie scoffs, and Richard could almost hear the sound of his eyes rolling. The redhead huffs. “She could do way better.”
“Yep,” Richard responds for the sake of responding. Does it piss off Charlie? Oh absolutely. When this all started, Richard fought back, why wouldn’t he? He’s done nothing wrong to Charlie, he’s just defending himself! But then it just got old and repetitive, so it’s really better to half-heartedly agree. It’s like giving Charlie what he wants (attention) but not in the way he wants (a fight). It’s fun. “She could.”
There’s silence, then, only getting interrupted when Richard turns a page in his book. If he strains enough, he can hear the gritting of Charlie’s teeth. But he doesn’t want to, so he refrains, and relaxes in his bed.
It’s a rare sight. Shame that only Dalton can see it. Stupid, annoying, infuriating Dalton.
Richard glances to his side of the room, to see the brunet with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall and body facing him. There’s a glare settled nicely on his face; lips pulled down into a frown. His eyes are throwing daggers at Richard. The corner of the ginger’s lips twitch in amusement.
“What?” he hums, finger tapping the cover of the book.
“What?” Charlie repeats, harsher and more hostile. “You–whatever. Goodnight, queerio.”
“Wha…” Richard whispers, face contorting into confusion. “What does that even mean?”
“It means fuck you.”
“Um, okay.”
The smirk on Charlie’s face the moment Richard steps into the room is almost enough to make him walk backwards and out into the hall. But he can’t, because his coat is in their dorm room, and so is his blazer. And he needs those. Desperately.
“So,” Charlie starts, crossing his legs and arms. Richard raises an eyebrow. “Did your date dump you already?”
“What?” Richard asks, slightly startled. There’s a hint of an uncertain laugh in his voice. “Charlie, what?”
“Aren’t you late?” Charlie chuckles, leaning forward. “Does that mean your date dumped you?”
Richard laughs then, even when he didn’t mean to. It’s a quick outburst, one that stunned Charlie for a moment before he’s glaring again. The ginger tries to muffle his laughter with his hand as he leans on his desk for support, body trembling. “Charlie,” he manages to say, giggling still, “it’s only seven pm.”
“Yeah, and?” Charlie retorts with a sneer. “You said you’re supposed to go at six.”
“I didn’t though?”
“You did!” he exclaims. “It even says so on your calendar!” Charlie points an accusing finger at the object hung on Richard’s wall, numbers scribbled neatly by the corner.
“Charlie, it says “Six pm, get ready”, because I wanted to get ready at six,” Richard chuckles, walking over to the calendar and crossing out the date. “And I did. Jesus, what’s your damage?”
“I–,” Charlie stutters, and he visibly deflates in the corner of Richard’s eye.
He wants to, but doesn't dare question it.
Richard stands in front of the mirror, fixing his tie, brushing his hair with his hand. He glances at Charlie's reflection to see the boy sulking, of all things. Shouldn't he be celebrating for having the room all to himself for a few hours?
Then Charlie stands with intent, and Richard's heart races for no reason at all, and his throat closes up and he suddenly can't breathe anymore so he loosens his tie a little and returns his gaze back at his own reflection.
He looks ghastly. Does it matter? Only a little.
Charlie's behind him, then, and Richard can feel his body heat from how close he is. His breath hitches.
“Hey nerd,” he mumbles, outstretching his arms to reveal Richard's blazer in his hold. The ginger mimics him, and Charlie slowly puts it on him. “You look awful,” he says then, placing his hands on Richard's shoulders. Richard rolls his eyes.
Then Charlie messes his fucking hair up.
Richard groans, grabbing his brush and fixing it, glaring at Charlie in the mirror. The brunet is laughing, and Richard's glare becomes harsher.
“I hope your date goes horribly!”
“Fuck off.”
—
The date was… okay. The prom was mediocre at best (the music was horrible and everyone was horny and it was so crowded and the drinks and food were awful. Richard would not recommend it), so they ended up ditching it and went to eat at a little diner instead. That was a fun time.
Serena was fun. She was a nice girl.
Charlie is awake when he gets back, not really doing anything. Just staring at the ceiling. Richard doesn't say anything as he changes into his pyjamas and climbs into his bed.
He doesn't face the wall like he usually does. Instead, he lays on his back, arm behind his head, and stares at the ceiling.
A beat.
“So,” Charlie starts, “How'd it go?” Richard knows Charlie's not as sincere as he sounds, but he answers anyway.
“It was alright,” he says, playing with a loose thread on his blanket. “Serena was nice.” We talked about you.
“Was she now?” Charlie hums, and Richard could hear his grin. He braces. “Too nice to give you a little kiss?”
“No,” Richard answers, not lightning fast, but not quite slow either. “No, she kissed me.” It was on the cheek. I didn't want her to kiss me.
“Sure she did,” he laughs, and it ripples through the tranquil silence that fell upon them for a moment. It's almost music to Richard's ears. “I'm sure she did, Dick.”
Richard rolls his eyes.
“Jesus Christ Charlie, can't you just shut up‽'' Richard screams, head snapping to the side to glare at his roommate, the grip on his desk tight, almost deadly. “I'm trying to study, because some of us actually care for our grades!”
“Boooo,” Charlie groans, tilting his head back a little and throws a crumpled piece of paper at Richard's head. It hits its target, at which the brunet laughs. Richard sneers. “God, are you really that much of a virgin? Repressing your sexual desires with schoolwork?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything‽”
“Oh, you know,” Charlie starts with an almost menacing grin, “How you're date probably didn't want to have sex with someone like you. Didn't even make out with you, did she?”
“Wha–?” Richard stutters, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before groaning. “Oh my god Charlie, can you just let it go? If you don't believe that she kissed me, then can you just shut up?”
“Say she did kiss you,” Charlie says, and Richard dies a bit inside, “bet it was just a peck though, wasn't it? Didn't even go to second base because you're a shit kisser.”
“I'm not a shit kisser, I'm a good kisser!” Richard retorts, more startled than anything. Charlie's smug now, arms crossed across his chest and the smirk on his face more demeaning than menacing. The ginger doesn't shrink.
“Are too,” is his simple response, and Richard can't help but feel like a child.
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
Charlie's close now, and Richard can't remember nor tell if he was the one to move or if it was the brunet. Either way, Richard can see the flecks of gold in his roommate's eyes with their proximity, and he gulps at the fact that he can feel Charlie's breath fanning on him.
“Are t—!” And if Charlie can't shut up himself, might as well help him, right?
So, there they were. Two men—boys, really—in their room, lips locked in a kiss. Richard's hand had found its place on Charlie's tie, eyes tightly shut.
His heart is racing, beating so loudly he fears Charlie can hear it. But Charlie doesn’t say anything, because Charlie’s moving, responding. His lips are dancing against Richard’s and it’s almost—it is heaven.
Richard feels whole. It’s a refreshing feeling, he thinks as he pulls Charlie closer.
But then Charlie pulls away, not alarmed, but definitely seeming as if he’s just remembered himself. Richard feels dizzy, then, letting the oxygen in his system once more before he opens his eyes, blinking a little too harshly.
“See?” he mumbles, lips brushing against Charlie’s, a smirk pulling on them. “Told you I’m a good kisser.” Richard takes a moment to appreciate Charlie’s stunned form before he makes a face and leaves the room.
Charlie raises a shaky hand and lightly touches his lips.
“Oh no,” Richard says as soon as he closes the bathroom door, voice shaky and all. “Oh… oh no no no. What the hell did I just do?”
He got what he wanted, didn’t he? He kissed Charlie, but… but it wasn’t a proclamation of his… attraction to the boy. It was some sort of–some sort of thing to assert his dominance.
Okay, maybe don’t call it that. It’s something, and it’s far from romantic.
But Charlie kissed him back, didn’t he? Yeah, Charlie… Charlie reciprocated, he did, yes. But that could mean anything. Charlie—
Charlie’s a dick. He’s an asshole who just happens to be charming and rich so he could get away with anything. He barely gets by with school and if Richard wasn’t there to help, he’d be failing. Richard should hate him. Richard did hate him.
But he doesn’t now, and maybe he never did, and now this whole thing is a mess and Richard is just questioning his existence now. He groans, holding his head in his hands.
“So, do you like anyone?” Serena had asked, dipping her fries in the milkshake before tossing them in her mouth. Richard’s face twisted.
“No,” he answered, perhaps a bit too quickly, “I don’t.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed, “well, do you hate anyone?”
“Hate?” Richard repeated, raising an eyebrow. He picked up a fry and slightly dipped them in the milkshake before taking a small bite. “Of course. Don’t we all?”
“Who are they, then?”
“My roommate,” he answered, finger tapping rhythmically on the table. “I hate him with every fibre of my damn being. He’s just so annoying you know? All he does is talk and it’s infuriating, especially when I’m trying to study! Don’t get me started on his damn face of all things! He thinks he’s so attractive, attracting girls left and right, but he isn’t! Just because his smirk is kind of mesmerising to look at doesn’t mean he’s attractive. And he’s somehow charming? It’s how he gets away with so many things—why are you looking at me like that?”
Serena was smirking, amused, not teasing, so unlike how Charlie always is. Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes glinted with something that Richard can’t quite point. It’s similar to the glint in Charlie’s eyes, though, so that can’t be good, can it?
“Nothing,” she said, slowly, “it’s nothing. Just… are ya sure you hate him?”
“Of course I do,” he retorted, almost a second too fast. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, Cam,” she started, a slight laugh in her voice, “it’s just, I don’t think people who hate their roommate think they’re attractive.”
Richard furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t think he’s attractive.”
“You called his smirk mesmerising, Cam.”
“Because it is!”
“Cam.” There’s finality in her tone, and it makes the redhead clam up a tiny bit. “Cam, really, think about it. Do you actually hate him, or do you hate that you feel this way about him?”
“Oh,” was all he said.
It was an enlightening evening.
The walk back to their room was hell. Every second felt like an hour and every minute felt like a year or two. Richard’s hands were clammy, and cold sweat dripped down his back uncomfortably. The air felt tight, despite him being the only one in the hall, he couldn’t breathe properly.
He breathes out, grabbing the doorknob with shaking hands. Richard doesn’t really have a choice but go back to their room. He can’t be caught out and about this late, and he swears that he heard someone else down the hall.
Richard twists it, and opens the door. The creaking shouldn’t be as loud as it is, but it rings in his ears along with the rapid beating of his heart.
Charlie is awake and sitting on his bed, eyes downcast and fists gripping the covers. His head doesn’t snap up when Richard steps in and closes the door. Richard holds his breath.
The moment Richard sits on his bed is when Charlie looks up, slowly, his eyes travelling the redhead’s entire body before settling on his eyes. Richard flushes a little, lip slightly trembling.
“Richie…” he mumbles, and Richard’s eyes grow wide.
“Charlie?” he whispers.
“Did it mean anything?” Charlie’s voice is soft, quiet, almost, yet it pierces through the silence like a knife, and straight into Richard’s heart. “The–the kiss, I mean. Did it… did it mean anything?”
“It meant something,” Richard mutters, chewing on his lip. “It… it meant a lot, I guess.”
“It meant a lot to me.” It meant a lot to Charlie. It meant a lot to Charlie. “You’re right, you know?”
Richard hums, a silent question. His eyes don’t leave Charlie’s as he dares to stand and sit beside the brunet.
“You’re a really good kisser,” Charlie says, hand inching closer to Richard’s. “Too good that it’s suspicious.”
“Well, would you look at that,” Richard chuckles, placing his hand on top of Charlie’s, “Charles Dalton, agreeing with me? And admitting that he’s wrong?” He laughs, then, a weight being lifted from his chest as he entangles his fingers with his roommate’s and places his forehead on the brunet’s. “Is the world ending?”
“Shut up,” Charlie huffs, though not unkindly like before. He rolls his eyes. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are a shit kisser and I’m just too sleepy to deal with this shit.”
“No no no, you can’t take it back,” Richard tuts. “You already said it, I already heard it. The truth’s out in the open.”
“Maybe you should kiss me again.” Charlie shrugs. Richard raises an eyebrow. “Change my mind again, because I’m still convinced that you’re a really shitty kisser and it’s just the—.”
“Christ almighty, shut up already,” Richard hisses half-heartedly, leaning down and capturing Charlie’s lips on his own.
“So, I like him.”
“You like him.”
“And it’s annoying.”
“It is?”
“It is.”
“You are more in denial than I thought.”
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know, confess?”
“I can’t just confess!”
“Well, why not?”
“He’ll… he’ll hate me.”
“Look, I say just take a leap of faith. What does your cooky English teacher say? Uh, carpe diem? Yeah, go and seize the day.”
“But what if—.”
“Look, Cam, if he actually hates you, then he’d do more than tease you. You know what they say to us girls?”
“Uh, no.”
“’If he bullies you, then he likes you.’”
“That’s fucked up.”
“You think I don’t know that? But you know, sometimes it’s true. Not all the time, but sometimes. So, you know, shoot your shot.”
Idk if you've seen but I finally posted my fic... I was gonna finish it last night but I wrote like 3 paragraphs before Misha tweeted and then I was too emotional and I have to do some cooking today but I finished it! Hope you like lol its mostly destiel but I included some saileen bc I love them too 🥰
ohhh, I hadn't seen it yet! thanks for telling me, i'm going to go check it out now! I'm sure it's amazing 💙💚
“… I’m your medic now. This is the only time you’ll hear me say, honestly, that you can trust me.”
-
I catched up with this [ fanfic ] and I´m still not comprehend why I had not read it before since I love everything @doomspoon888 does. To this I owe my last 2 days of sleeplessness, but I don´t regret it. I would never regret it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek)
Additional Tags: Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Screenplay/Script Format, Pre-Slash, Mutual Pining
Summary:
After Jim returns from the mirror universe, he finds a moment alone with Spock to reflect. They discuss the myth of Tantalus and the logic (or lack thereof) of reaching for something that you cannot have.
Originally published in print in Issue 5 of @thissimplefanzine with the title "Stand in a Pool of Water. Drink."
