Link: AO3
Pairing: Jason Grace/Nico di Angelo, Thalia Grace/Reyna
Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort. Maybe some action.
Summary: The month before Praetor Grace disappeared from Camp Jupiter was the happiest month of Nico’s life.
“Well,” Hazel tries gently, “if you’re going to hang out with Jason—”
“It’s not a date,” Nico blurts out before he can help himself.
More dreams. Stang. Would they ever stop? Malachor V. Dxun. Telos. The explosions. The Mandalorians. The other night, a few of them had taken off their helmets, revealing some of her crew-mates.
Kaiya opened her eyes and held back a cry. It felt cold. She wrapped the blankets around her and closed her eyes, attempting to fall back to sleep. Ten minutes passed, and still, nothing. She became acutely aware of the sounds of clinking and humming from the garage.
She hopped out of her bed and shivered, her bare feet quickly becoming numb. She grabbed her robe from her footlocker and wrapped it around herself. Half of the sleeve was gone, courtesy of a bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa.
Kaiya moved out of the captain’s quarters and into the empty hall. She could hear the hum of the engine and Atton snoring from the cockpit. Sheesh could he be any louder?
Shaking from the cold, she sauntered towards the garage, the robe providing little relief from the piercing air. As she rounded a corner, Bao-Dur’s form came into view. He was leaning over his remote droid, whose parts were laid out for repair.
“Hi,” she said. The Zabrak started slightly and turned his head to look at her.
“Hello, General.”
“Mind if I sit down?”
“Of course, General.”
“Thanks.” Kaiya adjusted her robes and sat down on the bench.
“Can’t sleep, General?”
“No. You?”
“Too many nightmares. General.”
Kaiya smiled slightly. “You know you don’t need to call me that.”
“Maybe not, General. But I will.”
She bit her lip. “What are you working on?”
“My remote droid’s tracker malfunctioned, as well as its photoreceptor.”
“Right.” Kaiya set her chin in her hands and watched him work. “Anything I can help you with?”
“No. But thank you, General.” Bao-Dur grabbed a hydrospanner. “You look tired.”
“I am. I’m very tired.” She could tell he knew what she meant. He always did.
Kaiya’s eyes drooped and she blinked for a moment, clutching her robe close to her body. The garage was warmer than the rest of the ship, but only slightly. She yawned and swayed for a moment.
“I had a dream,” she murmured, “It was Malachor V again. But instead of the Mandalorians, it was just the Republic soldiers and the Jedi who were destroyed.”
Bao-Dur shifted next to her. “I have dreams like that too. Memories resurfacing. Mostly Malachor V. Your nod. The explosions. You….falling.”
Kaiya grimaced and fought back the memories. “It had to be done.” She had said it so many times, to so many people, it was almost no use to say it now, but she did. Bao-Dur would be the only one who truly understood.
“Yes, but my hand forced yours.”
“The situation, Bao-Dur, forced both our hands. Had we not done it, the Republic could have been destroyed.”
“You speak the truth, General……..there was no way we could have walked away from the war without regrets.” He fiddled with some tools for a moment, deep in thought.
Kaiya’s eyes drooped again and this time, she let them. She swayed and leaned against the Zabrak’s shoulder. He felt warm.
“Oh, Bao-Dur,” she murmured, “What would I do without you?”
“Goodnight, General,” Bao-Dur whispered, a smile in his voice. He wrapped his arm around her.
(This is a fairly old fic, one which I posted two years ago, so ... yeah.)
Duncan has a strange epiphany as he stares at Courtney. And it amazes him. A lot.
It's a normal Sunday morning.
Duncan is currently visiting his girlfriend, Courtney. He's relaxing on her bed, leaning up on the headboard of her bed, and listening to his iPod. His teal eyes are concealed by his lids, and his head is bobbing up and down along with the beat of the music blasting from his headphones.
Courtney is sitting down on her computer chair, one leg propped up on it. She's in the midst of studying for a highly — and since this is Courtney, "highly" means "extremely, extremely necessary for her grades, her future college, her career, and, generally, her future — important exam that is officially set for tomorrow morning. Her study mode is turned on as of now. A mechanical pencil is wedged behind her right ear, and she is chewing on the top of the ballpoint pen she's using. Stacks of textbooks are on the side of her desk, and important documents — in actuality, they are just … papers — are strewed everywhere. Her hair is done into a messy bun, strands of brown locks falling down.
The 17-year-old delinquent's favorite song starts playing in his iPod. He grins and turns up the volume, now smirking profoundly.
The 17-year-old overachiever scowls when she hears muffled aggressive music coming from behind. She grips the pen she's holding and spins around from her chair.
"Duncan!"
He continues bobbing and smirking.
Her scowl intensifies. "Dun-can!"
"Open your eyes, see the divine … ," he sings quietly.
White-hot rage begins bubbling hazardously inside her system. Her grip on the pen tightens suffocatingly, tan skin on her knuckles lightening. She narrows her onyxes at him, jaw locking.
"Duncan!"
He thinks he hears something screeching underneath the thrashing music. He overlooks it.
"DUNCAN!"
She swears out loud and smacks the pen on the desk making it tremble slightly. She roughly gets off the computer chair and stomps over to her deaf boyfriend. She stands next to him, hands on hips. She glowers.
He fails to notice her.
She rips the headphones off of his ears.
Eyes snapping open, he sits upright and looks to his right, yelling out, "What the hell, babe?" He grabs the headphones from her and regards her, eyes staring angrily. He shuts off the music instantly.
"Your music was so loud, and I couldn't concentrate!" Courtney explains loudly.
He rolls his eyes and settles back down. "Should've just asked me to lower it down," he replies.
"Uh, I did, but apparently you didn't hear me! You want to know why? Because your music was so damn loud!"
"All right, all right. Go back to being boring now." Crazy woman …
Insensitive ogre. She suddenly feels like lashing out at him, but, with large amount of effort, she stops. Her upcoming exam is far more important than dealing with her idiot of a boyfriend. So she huffs and starts to stalk away dramatically.
Duncan was scrolling down for a song to listen to when his eyes slide upwards to see Courtney walking away. He watches her hips sway left and right, left and right. He sees her small waist pronounced by the dark olive tank top she's donning, and the pajama pants, which stop above her knees, are tight around her large hips (he likes them, and she doesn't; he doesn't care) and then loose all the way down.
An epiphany hits him like a metal baseball bat. And they hurt like hell — literally, of course.
"Hey, Princess," he calls out.
She halts and turns around, sighing exasperatedly. She faces him wearily. "What do you want? And make it fast."
"You'd make a killer belly dancer."
She's silent for a while.
His eyes continue to evaluate her curvy figure.
" … Excuse me?"
He then sits up again. He dumps his iPod next to him and gets off her bed. He walks to her and keeps on looking and looking at her body. He places his large hands on either sides of her waist. She mentally questions at the abrupt physical contact. His hands descend to her hips, and he moves his hands up and down, waist to hip. She scoffs and shoves his hands away.
"What are you doing?" she demands.
"Princess, have you ever looked in the mirror?" His tone sounds so amazed and smug. He knows she has a great figure, but he never really looked at it until now. And he's proud to say inwardly and outwardly that he has a hot girlfriend with a hot figure.
She gives him a deadpan look. "Yes, Duncan, I have looked in the mirror." Then she shows him a look that clearly says "Of course." "What's your point in all of his? You're being so random all of a sudden."
"You just have an amazing bod. Hey, hey — shake your hips. C'mon, shake it."
"Wha — why would I — ? No!" She steps back.
He comes closer to her. "Just move your hips side to side. I wanna see if you have the ability to be a belly dancer."
"You are insane, and I'm not doing it! Me — a belly dancer? For goodness sake's, Duncan, that occupation is incredibly remote from what I really want to be. I want to be a lawyer. Lawyers don't go around shaking their body so explicitly. So, no." She crosses her arms over her chest.
"Then you're just wastin' everything!" He grabs her hips and forcibly moves them side to side.
She glares at him. "Stop doing that! That — this feels really uncomfortable, Duncan! S-Stop!"
He ceases but his hands don't stray away from her hips. He stares long and hard at her, defying her with his eyes.
Seeing this, she defies him back, eyes toughening and toughening.
Then he grins playfully. He leans down and kisses her irresistibly. He knows she's not the type to shake her fine hips like there's no tomorrow. It's a shame he won't be able to see it. But that doesn't stop him from seeing it … in his dreams.
"You're an idiot," Courtney mutters when he pulls away.
He winks at her. He starts looking down at her again but at a different location.
Suspiciously, she follows his gaze and becomes a tomato.
