Command for Tool (if thats what we're calling the Machine whumpee now). I want you to go to the empty room - to your room - and destroy your Machine.
Tool freezes, eyes going incredibly wide. Oh, oh no they can’t. They could never. the Mechanic would be so incredibly angry at them. He would, would -oh. A foreign yet familiar way of thinking came over them.
If the machine was gone, than he couldn’t put them back in.
Bolstered by this idea, Tool made their way to the room. The feeling of it, the very air made them shiver. They hated this room, feared it. It was worse than anything else they had ever experienced, and they would be glad to see it go.
They picked up the Mechanic’s stool, gripping it tightly. After a breath to compose themself, they swing it down hard on the control panel.
Again, and again, and again.
In the end, they stood panting my the crushed systems. It was gone, really gone. No longer could the threat of this awful thing hang over their head. They were free of it, even if they weren’t free of the Mechanic.
But if the machine was gone, what kept them there?
“Well then.”
Tool spun around, still armed with the stool. The Mechanic looked so displeased, it made their legs weak. But no, no – it didn’t matter if the man was displeased anymore. He couldn’t do anything to them. They were free, even if they were still in the building.
“What on earth came over you,” he pondered. He looked displeased, but he didn’t look angry. Didn’t have that sheen of rage come over his face. He began to circle tool, who moved to keep the stool in between them.
“You know this behavior is unacceptable, don’t you?”
Tool nearly squeaked out an answer, but caught themself. No, no it didn’t matter. What the Mechanic wanted didn’t matter anymore.
He took a step closer and looked Tool directly in the eyes.
“You know that wasn’t my only one, right?”
Tool thought they might faint. The older man smiled, grabbing one of the stool’s legs and ripping it out of Tool’s grip.
“Oh no no no. I have another. An older version, not as finely crafted and designed. Mismatching parts from set I’ve stolen from across the years. It’s much rougher, more blunt. I had to make another as the prototype was ineffective. You understand what I mean by ‘ineffective,’ don’t you?”
Tool nodded, trying to back away. Oh, oh this was such a mistake. How could they ever be so foolish!
“Hm. Good, then I’m sure you won’t mind being the first to use it after all this time. I’ll warn you before hand, the ventilation system is a big slow. Never could get it quite right. And there’s no timer on the feeding pump – but you said you understood ineffective.”
The Mechanic grabbed Tool’s hair, pulling them close as they whimpered and went limp.
Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters' initiation and, finally,you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters.
But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster's guts, he was dead wrong.
Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably, or at least that's what they told you anyway.
Pairing: Dean X Reader
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack
Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst.
Kiss it and make it better
Stepping outside the airport you were finally able to breathe real, unfiltered air, after so many hours of being closed up in an aluminum tube, sharing it with too many people. You stretched, feeling the uncomfortable tingling in your legs and a couple of bones popping here and there. Dragging your feet and luggage, you squinted against the sun that, according to your internal clock, shouldn’t be up and about. Rubbing your eyes, you looked down at your phone, sending a quick group text telling everyone at home you were okay and that you'd call them soon so they wouldn’t bother you later when you'd have other priorities.
During the time you had said your goodbyes and up until now, you had kept in contact with the Winchesters via some random texts and even some late night skype calls with the brothers. They had wanted to know how things were and especially the thing with your search for the men of letters.
Dean was always the same, old Dean. He always prodded and pried to know if you were hunting or not. And yes you had so you had lied about that, obviously, but he didn’t really need to know that, anyway. You bit your lip, drumming your fingers on the linoleum counter, suddenly feeling that old, guilty feeling creeping up your chest, as you waited for the rental car papers to get sorted out. To their best of their knowledge, you were still in training and mostly locked in a lab dissecting monsters and helping with the weapons.
Initially, your plan had been simple: Leave right after graduation.
The change of heart had been bitter but necessary. You knew all too well that if you had to crash in the Winchesters’ hunting life, you had to be prepared. The last thing you wanted was playing the damsel in distress. Therefore yes, you were locked in the lab, elbows deep in monster's guts and DNA, but at the same time, you had trained in whatever could be useful during a hunt. Basic combat, basic knife knowledge, witchcraft, and spells, refreshed your Latin which was still painfully mediocre, and let’s not talk about the guns skills. Honestly, things could be better, but considering how you started, things could’ve been far worse.
The bunker was only a three-hour drive which, for where you were from, was a lot, but things here were different. A country this big? Almost thirty times bigger than yours?
Yeah, days of driving were waiting in the future, and anyway, a couple of hours more and some leg cramps were nothing compared to how eager you were to see them.
Lebanon wasn’t that far away and you had managed to get the bunker’s outer description so you knew what to look for. You’d figure out the rest on the road.
You were not prepared for the boredom. The roads were almost completely straight.
“Damn, this place is literally a slab of dirt, some trees, and a sea of crops”.
Beautiful yes, but the road seemed to have no end. It just kept going on and on and on. Thank God for technology that at least showed that you were indeed moving closer to the destination.
The power plant hadn’t been difficult to find. Fiddling with your personal key, that the office had given you, you hesitated, hoping that they were home. As you were about to slip the key in the hole, your hand halted.
“I shouldn’t barge in like I own the place.”
It was a Men of Letters' bunker and it belonged to all of you but that one was Sam and Dean’s home. You retreated the key, slipping it in the back pocket of your jeans and you tried to knock, feeling silly.
No one answered. Were they on a hunt? Should you have called them? Should you call them right now?
Before your mind decided on what to do, you started texting Sam.
-Hey guys, just checking in. How are things?
Nothing.
Should you wait for them? But for how long? They could be days away or hours. You had no way of knowing. You decided to wait at least for a couple of hours. Maybe you could even take a nap to gain some sleep since jet lag was already being a bitch.
Relaxing in your seat, you started to doze off, in a light dream state.
Your phone chimed startling you awake. Confused, you squinted at the blurry screen. You’ve been asleep for hours.
“Shit”
You looked around but nothing had changed, no cars and no sign of them. You looked back at your phone
It was a message from Sam.
-Nothing much, same as always.
-Are you guys on a hunt?
-No, research
Oh great, already with the lies.
Moving the car to a more secluded spot between the sparse trees you looked at the time again.
Not that you had anywhere else to go anyway. “I guess I can still wait a bit and test my luck.” which sucks, by the way, a little voice told you.
After some time, a loud roaring noise woke you up. You straighten up, rubbing the drool from your cheek. From the muddy road, you saw this sleek black car rolling in and you fell instantly in love. That must be Baby.
The beauty on wheels stopped and from the driver seat, a frantic Sam jumped out, running to the passenger’s side and helping a bloody Dean out.
“What the hell?!” you called out, running out the car to them.
You saw Sam freeze and then with inhuman speed, he spun around, gun lifted toward the source of the voice. You stopped and slowly stepped into the headlights, arms raised, smiling reassuringly.
“Hi Sam”
“Y/N?” he squinted, “ what- ….how-” you both looked at Dean as he groaned in pain, starting to slide off his brother’s grip.
“Later,” Sam said quickly and moved to the entrance, Dean’s weight mostly on him. You watched as he struggled to open the door, so you stepped in, pushing him aside, and opened the bunker’s door with your key. Sam’s eyes widened, but once the door was wide open, he stepped inside. The lights switched on by themselves and he dragged Dean down the metal stairs. Following Sam through two large rooms and corridors, you watched as he lay Dean down on a bed in one of the rooms.
“Research uh?”
You gasped when he started to remove Dean’s coat, revealing an extended, deep blood stain on his shoulder.
“Vampire nest, one got a jump on him”.
You helped to roll up the sleeve while Sam brought in the first aid kit. You prodded the wound with your fingers to better understand the edges of the bite.
“It’s not that bad, looks worse than it is with all this blood”
Shrugging off your jacket you extended your hand to Sam who just stared at it.
“ …would you pass me the hydrogen peroxide so I can clean, sterilize and maybe stitch your brother up?”
“Ah yes, here”
When you sprayed the liquid on the wound to clean it, it fizzled and foamed, making you wince just as Dean’s eyes flew open and he sat up cursing.
“Son of a bitch, Sam can you be a bit more delicate”
“Not if you want to keep your arm”
His head snapped to you and once again you lost yourself in those eyes, memory couldn’t really do them justice
“Y-Y/N?”
“Hey, stranger”
“How… why… what?”
He flinched when you sprayed the wound again. “What the hell?” he grunted, his shoulders and neck tensing and trembling as he fought the pain. “Shouldn’t you be all ‘there there Dean, I’ll kiss it and make it better?’” he joked flinching when you used gauze to wipe around the bite, cleaning dirt and blood.
“Mmm, that’s cute” you mused, biting your lip to conceal your smile.
Oh, how have you missed him!!
“Wait here a moment, I need to go grab a few things”
You got up and touching Sam’s arm, “Don’t let him move an inch” you ordered.
“Yes ma’am”
“Hey, I’m the older brother!” he called as you disappeared outside the room, “what is she doing here, man?” Dean hissed once you were out of the room and they heard the bunker door close.
“Dude, I don’t know. She was just standing there, outside, waiting for us I think. She has a key for this place. A key of her own.”
Sam threw a look at the corridor outside the room and walked to his brother, lowering his voice, “You saw her ink, right?”
“Of course I saw the fucking ink. It’s right there on her arm” Dean stood up and swayed a little, Sam helped him be steady.
“Real question is, why she needs it.''
“Shouldn’t you be sitting down?” you said out of breath from the door, a big bag under your arm.
“Shouldn’t you have stayed in the lab being a nerd?” he said, his voice harsh.
“I do that, and occasionally…” you said unfazed, dropping the case on the bed, “... if the team is understaffed, I’ll go with them and kick some ass. Now, sit!”
Dean sat down on the bed again with a grunt as you opened the black military backpack.
Sam’s brows shot up when he saw its content.
“This is for missions…” you started to answer his silent question, “... we have an infirmary at HQ but when we are on the field we use this.” you went on, laying down a sterile, surgical, blue towel. When you fished out a syringe, Dean stood up, shaking his head.
“Uuh, nope!”
“Dean, sit down,” you said unfazed while rummaging into the pockets.
“Hell no. I don’t need any of that crap. Whiskey and dental floss will do just fine”. Your hands stopped and you slowly lifted your eyes to him, smiling sickly.
“Dude ...what she said” Sam chuckled, curious about the rest of the equipment. Dean muttered something and sat down again, far from you.
“Now, Dean, what kind of vamp attacked you ?”
“The blood-sucking kind? What are you talking about?”
“No, I mean, was he well fed? Looked clean and tidy? How were the conditions of the nest?”
The brothers looked at you funny and you sighed, “Was it a dumpster vamp or a house vamp?” your voice a clear testament of how thin your patience was running.
“…a barn one?” Dean’s patience running thinner...
“Does it matter?” Sam asked, interested.
“Umm, we know they can carry a different kind of bacteria depending on the type of environment they live…well, we are still working on the classifications but we have synthesized some antibiotics that can cover most of them, for now”
“AntiVamp-biotics?” Dean grinned as you chuckled.
“Still, we never needed that before,” Dean said smugly but his eyes twitched when you inserted the syringe into the little bottle with the clear yellow liquid. Your eyes followed as his tongue nervously licked his lips.
“Yeah? If they passed you something it could be dormant. This…” you said squirting the liquid out the needle, “... will get rid of it. Better safe than sorry, right?”
You reached as Dean drew his arm back.
You cocked an eyebrow at Sam and he chuckled, walking up to Dean and keeping him still.
“Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it better.” you cooed and slammed the needle in his flesh.
Once Dean was all patched up and real grumpy about it, Sam left the two of you alone going for the overused excuse of dinner. Cleaning up the mess on the bed and the rolls of gauzes that rolled off on the floor, you felt Dean’s eyes on you. With a sigh, you turned to face him, ‘here we go’.
“Yes Dean, what is it?”, still rolling up a stubborn gauze that kept slipping.
“What’s that?” he nodded at your arm and you followed his eyes.
“An anti-possession mark...?”
“Yeah, thanks. I know that, kid” he passed a hand over his face tired. “Why is it on you, is what I’d like to know. I thought I told you not to do anything stupid”
“And I promised you that. But, shit Dean, life happens.”
He stared at you and you squirmed under his hard gaze.
“Look…I did everything I was supposed to do, ok? We talked about this-”.
“-Apparently you forgot to mention some significant parts”. He grumbled over your rehearsed excuse.
“-recruited me as a science and tech assistant.” Your voice louder, “ I juggle between dissecting monsters, designing new weapons, upgrading old ones, and sometimes… sometimes I have field duty”
“That…” he stood up slowly and, son of a bitch you wanted out the room right fucking now, “... that right there is where I stop you,” he said pointing a finger. “You couldn't just stay in the lab, right? No, you had to go all gun blazing…”
“Actually, I use a-”
“I DON’T CARE!”
You flinched and he looked startled at his own outburst, blinking before clearing his throat and combing a hand through his hair, which was longer than you remembered, combed very nicely... No, focus!.
“You’ve never mentioned that in your calls or texts, so you definitely knew you were doing something stupid”
“No no no, this…” you waved a hand in the space between you two, “... this is why I didn’t say anything; you are overreacting just like Cass said you wou-”.
Ah shit.
“Oh …” a tight cold smile, “Cass knew?” his jaw clenched.
“Dean-” suddenly feeling very tired, you sat heavily on the bed, “you don’t know the big picture here, ok? ”
“you sound awfully a lot like a Cass of some years ago right now,” he whispered, his eyes roaming over you and then stopping at your bare legs.
Oh, fuck. Gaze turning hard, he looked up to you again.
“The fuck is that?” he said, dropping on his knees, between your legs.
Awkward.
“What's what? ” you tried to get up.
His hand traveling up your leg, stopped you cold. Reaching under your knee and lifting it to take a better look. Right there, in your inner thigh run a long, silvery scar that he traced until it disappeared under your shorts.
“Oh that…” your tone trying to sound amused, “It’s actually quite a funny story, I-“
“Whoops, sorry! “Sam, still with his amazing timing, appeared on the door and misunderstanding, obviously, he quickly turned around. Dean didn’t let go of your leg, still staring at you all jaw tensed and fuming, and all hot rage, and you shouldn’t feel this turned on, but here we are.
“Nope, Sam, it’s fine, nothing to see here, so what’s up?”
Sam cast a glance at you from above his shoulder, “Dinner’s ready…if you...you know... want it”
“Oh thank god, I’m starving” you chirped as you shook your leg out of his grip. Dean snapped out of his daze, stood up and walked out the room in silence.
“What happened?” Sam asked while accompanying you to the main room.
“Occupational hazards”
“That was amazing Sam, thank you," you said leaning back on your chair, satisfied and trying to stifle a burp.
“It’s just take-out and cholesterol, but you are welcome,” he smiled rubbing his hands clean from the greasy food with a paper napkin.
“For my first meal on American soil, I couldn’t have asked for anything better”
“Then we should celebrate.” Sam chuckled using his beer to nod at you. Grinning back you reciprocated and did the same in Dean’s direction but he was still brooding, picking at his food. Well, that’s definitely bad. You looked at Sam as he shrugged at you. Clicking your tongue, you put down your bottle.
‘Well, time to face one Dean Winchester. I got this’
“Enough of that Dean. I told you I was going to do what I wanted. I’m not your responsibility. I choos- “
“You didn’t. You just had the misfortune of meeting me, by chance, while you were living your life…”
“Yeah, what a life! Sure...” you scoffed, his shoulder visibly tensing.
‘Aw, shit that came out wrong’.
“You know what?” he snarled at you, “I told you about our lives, I told you how we didn’t have it easy. I told you we were forced into this shit, but you…,” he pointed angrily, “... you just dived in it like it’s no big deal, leaving your goddamn, normal life behind ”
“Actually that life found me, you found me ….”
“Yeah, and look what good that did “.
Sam was fidgeting uncomfortably, though he didn’t want to intervene because he would have taken your side, and besides, Dean was not in the let’s be rational mood, right now.
“Everything I touc-”
“OH, SHUT UP!” you slammed your hands on the table, toppling your bottle, spilling beer on you and the floor. You didn’t flinch, eyes steady on him. Sam choked on his beer, startled at your outburst which was still echoing in the empty corridors. Dean stiffened, even more shocked, mouth hanging open.
“You…” began, lowering your voice, the anger still in it “... you want to know what I’d be if I hadn’t met you?” You lifted your head to look at him. You could feel your eyes, hot, and shit you really, really did not want to fucking cry in front of them.
“Dead” you paused, letting the weight of the word sink, “I would be dead.. in my car... that same night, like all the others.”
He opened his mouth but you made a gesture to zip it, “I wouldn’t have graduated, I wouldn’t have made my parents proud, I wouldn’t be useful, and wouldn’t be doing a job I love. You saved my life and I’m proud of what I’m doing with it.”
You pushed the chair back with your leg and stepped away from the table, tearing your eyes from his.
“So please… do not fucking spit your fucking judgment on it.”
Stuffing your backpack, angrily drying the few tears that had escaped you heard the door opens.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Sam”
“What are you doing?” Dean’s low voice made your heart clench.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” You snapped and you winced at it, but fuck that. You resumed packing, “I don’t want to stay where people seem to second guess and judge my decisions, don’t need that shit.”
His hand stopped your arm and you drew a deep breath, his touch already soothing part of the storm you had inside.
“I’m sorry,” he simply said, and it was already enough. Hell, you forgave him the exact moment he followed you in the room.
“I-It’s okay,” you said relaxing.
“I don’t know your life and I shouldn’t have, you know…I’m just worried about what you’ve been doing without m-us, without us.”
You let out a breathy chuckle and sat on the bed, looking up at him, patting the space beside you, “then let me tell you…”
He sat down and looked at you, eyes softening.
“Hello Y/N “
You jumped startled and squealed when you saw the angel.
“Cass!" You quickly engulfed him in a hug, which he returned awkwardly, though he was getting better at it.
“How was the journey? “
“Neverending,” you said stepping back.
“I could have brought you here directly “
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I wanted to surprise the boys”
“Cass…” Dean’s grave voice brought you back and you shot an apologetic look at the angel, mouthing ‘sorry’. “You knew what she was doing and you didn’t say anything.”
The angel eyed Dean nervously “I gave her my wor-“
“We’ll deal with that later” Dean interrupted, “where’s the other kid?” you gave him an offended look.
“War room with Sam”
“Oh, do I get to meet Jack, finally?” you asked, suddenly giddy.
Following Dean and Cass to the main room again, you saw this scrawny figure from behind.
“Jack…” Sam cautiously began, looking at you,“... um-this is Y/N…remember? We’ve talked about her“
He turned around.
What? That’s the antichrist?.
“What the hell?... how old are you?”
He tilted his head at you and you snorted by how similar he looked to Castiel, “I’m…a year, 7 months and 4 days ..old .“
“Oh, my God!” you shut your mouth, extending a hand to him.
“Hello, I’m Y/N” you smiled. He looked at your hand and then at Dean and back at you. Starting to feel awkward having your hand hovering mid-air, you started to lower it, but Jack finally grabbed your hand and squeezed back, giving you a beaming smile.
“I’m Jack”
“Nice to meet you, Jack”
“You are ...not afraid of me?” he asked tentatively, sounding more like a statement than a question.
“Do I have reasons to?”
He smiled, blushing, lowering his eyes, ‘oh no, he’s cute’
“Ok, now that we are all here… ” Dean clamped his hand on your shoulder, startling you, “... Y/N, care to tell us what you’ve been up to?”
“And that’s how I found out the two families who were still active. I went to the one that was closer to me and knocked at their door. A real-life Cluedo like butler opened. Mind you, I almost laughed in his face and flashed the Men of Letters sigil. Next thing I know I’m being led to the poolside. There was this gorgeous woman sunbathing as the rich people do, you know?”
You looked at Castiel and Jack, “...Like…one piece bathing suit, pearl necklace, big floppy hat, huge sunglasses. I swear I looked around for cameras because, I mean, you must be shitting me, and she was probably drinking vodka at 10 am but, hey I don’t judge. Anyway, I tell her who am I and all that jazz; she introduced me to her daughters. I ended up in some kind of Amazon utopia and I was all for that. I talked about you. Well, not about you-you, but American hunters. They seemed awfully interested in ‘your kind’ which does sound a bit racist, I guess”
“Hear that, Sammy? Women of Letters' den just for you”
Sam gestured for you to continue as he rolled his eyes, clearing his throat.
“Short story short they took me in, taught me everything I needed to know and introduced me to the HQ. They hired me to do what I do and that’s all. I completed the initiation and they gave me my key.” you said slipping out your bunker key from your pocket and stroking it affectionately.
“AH!” you slapped the back of your hand on Dean’s chest,
“…that, I didn’t miss,” he said blinking down at his chest.
“-I brought gifts for everyone!” you ran up the stairs and out the bunker to retrieve the little, silver trolley.
When you went back in, you stopped at the top of the stairs, taking your time observing the room below. You had missed them; you had missed them all so much. How could you have missed someone you’ve known for less than a week? They represented your new life, a life no one knew about. Your parents thought you were abroad to join a research team and so did all your friends.
Then, there was Dean. That really wasn’t the reunion you had in mind but you also didn’t know where you two were standing now.
“Hey, you need a hand there?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
“Coming, coming”
With a pleased smile and a loud groan, you put down the trolley on the table. That thing was heavy.
“Jack, you first, since it’s my first time meeting you.”
The boy lit up like a Christmas tree. “I don’t really know you but they told me you like these very much”. You threw him a bag full of different kinds of nougat. “It artisan, really expensive, really traditional, really good.”
He looked like he was about to cry. You stared as he stood up and came over to you. He seemed scared to touch you so you opened your arms, giving him permission. He smiled and hugged you, and then he drew his head back and kissed you quickly and what the fuck.
You let out a whimper and froze, not knowing what to do.
“Jack! The hell you think you’re doing?” Jack let you go and looked at Dean in confusion.
“I’m just doing what you do with girls. They seem very happy when you do that. I wanted the same for Y/N”
Dean spluttered, Sam laughed and Cass just rolled his eyes.
You touched your lips blushing, “T- that’s a nice thought Jack and I appreciate the sentiment, but you usually want to do these things with something special, ya know?”
“No, I don’t. Are you mad?”
The puppy eyes, he did the puppy eyes. Not the puppy eyes!
You ruffled his hair, Dean’s eye visibly twitching.
“Of course I’m not mad. Just…just ...guys a little help here?”
“Why don’t you give us the rest?” Sam took mercy on you.
“S-sure ...here, Cass I – I hope this is the right color” you tossed a bunch of ties, silk cobalt ties, like his eyes.
“Thank you Y/N, you remembered.” he smiled warmly rubbing the fabric between his fingers.
One of the times Cass had visited you, was because you were choosing a tie and very intensely trying to find one to match the color of his eyes. It must have felt like you were calling to him. You had then spent hours trying to find the perfect match and you recalled that he seemed to particularly like the feeling of the cool silk.
“And now, Sam!”
He straightened, hearing his name. “Man, these were the heaviest things I brought back. I had to give up a couple of pairs of shoes for them, you better appreciate.” One after another you piled up four big old, dusty books. “This is part of the lore of my branch; I hope they’ll be useful, maybe. They also look pretty so...”
Sam stood up quickly and snatched one of the books from your grasp, gave you a quick hug and dived right in.
“Nerd!” Dean whispered.
“Dean!” you called.
His head snapped up to you as you searched through the luggage, “Don’t think you got what I want in there," he said like the little shit he was, but you could see how his eyes tried to look inside the suitcase.
“Oh, really? Guess I’ll keep this for myself if I get homesick”
You picked up packages of ground coffee, “... and this too!” you said lifting up a Moka by the handle, swaying it.
“Oh, hell yeah!”
You spent the rest of the evening filling them with a description of the way the Men of Letters worked back in your country and listened to what they had been doing since the last time you had spoken.
“Guys, I think I’m gonna hit the hay” Sam announced getting up, a book under his arm, patting Dean’s knee “Y/N feel free to crash here for how long you want”
“Oh, but I don’t want to –”
“You heard Sammy. Besides, you are a Woman of Letters now. This is your home too,” Dean added, watching you while taking a sip of his beer.
Written for Seblaintine’s Day 2018.
Bingo line (Card 1): forget-me-not*, apology, term of endearment, "ever thine, ever mine, ever ours"*, table for two.
*prompts interpreted differently to suit the story.
This story is inspired by the Korean drama Guardian: The Lonely and Great God. Not really an AU of the show but some borrowed storylines shaped to fit the story.
Title from Percy B. Shelley's "Rarely, rarely, comest thou"
Excerpt:
The Reaper offered another kind smile. “Humans are granted four lives; life of planting, life of watering, life of harvesting and life of using what was harvested. Four reincarnations.”
The sound of the alarm blaring jolts me awake and as my eyes capture the time, I spring out of bed. I probably pressed the snooze button about 8 times seeing as I’m 45 minutes late. In my rush to get dressed, I violently stub my toe against the bed while trying to hop into my jeans, wincing and cursing this wretched day before I head out into the bitter cold.
I force my bedridden hair into a ponytail, a fully wrapped energy bar clasped between my teeth as I evade the swarm of bodies on the bustling street, zigzagging through businessmen and waiters and patrons alike.
Everyone is in as much of a hurry as I am, and we’re all compelled into pause while we wait for the walk sign to switch from red to green. My feet tap impatiently against the pavement as I chew on sweetened granola and swallow, when my eyes spot plump lips sipping coffee on the opposite side of the road. I gulp, craving a cup of my own when an image flashes as quick as lightning, plump lips against a glass of aged red wine, familiar and recurring.
I’ve always had the same dream, for as long as I can remember, and last night was no exception. I am always sitting at the head of a long dining table that seats about 12; you are the only other occupant sitting across from me, smiling at me in a black frock coat and a cherry jacquard vest over a dress shirt. You’re the happiest I - the me in the dream, at least - have ever seen you, and we raise two large glasses in a congratulatory toast. Your gaze captures mine even as our glasses lower to our lips, but in the foggy transitions of dreams, faceless soldiers break in through large windows, surrounding us before we even attempt an escape. Their hands shackle my arms and legs, in order to chain you without touching you as you watch me with a contorted face. I can see you bite back a shout as they slam my head against the table, craning my neck in an angle that would give me full view to what they were about to do. There’s a quick flash of silver - and then my body jolts awake, sweat-covered and tear-stained, my throat so raw as if I’ve screamed all my life.
I gaze at you, my eyebrows knitting at the sudden surge of deja-vu as I study soft features and eyes that are slightly mismatched, the right one a bit wider than the left; an imperfect slight bump in the bridge of your nose compliments your face, and those red plump lips leaving an undetectable mark on the branded paper cup. You are familiar to me, in a way that does not even contain friends and family, in a way that shouldn’t be pertinent to a total stranger. My nervousness dips to the pit of my stomach, my eyes recognizing the person that’s haunted my dreams.
Another image flashes, red plump lips against my thighs; I am a writhing mess, and your mismatched eyes watching me hungrily as I desperately chase my high.
My head burns hot; disoriented and befuddled, I press my thighs together against unwelcome throbs of pleasure. I have to remind myself you’re a complete stranger, and I drop my gaze out of insufferable humiliation.
I’m suddenly shoved forward as the crowd stirs once the light turns green and I plunge back into the moment. I’m still late as ever, so I try to shake the odd images and sinful thoughts and nostalgia away to get on with my day. But as we cross paths, my eyes catch a long scar across the pale skin of your neck, triggering another vision.
The swift collision of sword against flesh.
The blood spurting out like a fountain.
Your hand reaching for my face,
your head falling into my lap as I press my palm
to the wound on your neck and try to stop the bleeding.
Someone’s got a strong grip on my arm, and I look up to see blurry mismatched eyes and full round lips asking if I was okay. My knees had scraped against the asphalt and I could feel the resulting graze beginning to sting; My heart’s beating erratically, quick and wild, and sweat’s forming inside my palms and neck as I try to make sense of you - actually existing, not just in my head but right here in front of me. It takes me a second to register that a few tears have marked lines down my face and I blink their remnants away..
“I-I’m fine,” I blurt as you help me up and then let go of my wrist, stepping back only slightly.
I can feel your eyes carefully watching me as I pick up my bag and half finished energy bar. I’m ready to walk away from you and go back to pretending these dreams meant nothing when you ask, “Have we met before?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Peter Parker
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Fluff, Precious Peter Parker, Nice Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Hurt Tony Stark, Tony Stark Feels, Parent Tony Stark, Dad!Tony, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Protective Peter Parker, Hugs, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Protective Tony Stark
Summary:
Two months has passed since Peter moved in the Compound to live with Tony. Their relationship is getting more and more closer. Nothing bad can happen if they are together after all.
Right?
(Or just an other Irondad and Spiderson oneshot collection)
It's kind of the prelude of my last story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838304/chapters/31825506
