summary: handcuffed together for five chaotic city challenges. zero personal space, lots of bumping, and maybe… a little more than just friendship.
masterlists | walker scobell masterlist |
edit: someone flagged this post claiming it includes sexual themes even though i clearly stated that it doesn't otherwise i would've put it in the warnings (i don't write explicit content for minors anyway)
the video opens with you both standing in the studio.
you’re smiling.
walker is already suspicious.
“i don’t like that look,” he says, staring at the producer holding shiny metal handcuffs.
you blink at the camera. “i do.”
click.
the cuff snaps around your wrist.
click.
his wrist.
you both look down.
“…this feels illegal.” walker's eyes narrow.
“you’ll be completing five challenges around the city. the keys will stay here.” the producer off camera explains.
your head snaps up. “excuse me?”
“have fun!”
challenge one: exit the building
“that’s easy,” you say confidently.
you both step forward.
immediately shoulder-check.
“why are you walking so fast?” he says.
“i’m not— you’re dragging me.”
“i am not dragging you.”
you try syncing steps. left. right.
it’s worse.
the camera zooms in on your tangled arms as you attempt the door handle. you both reach for it at the same time.
bonk.
foreheads lightly collide.
“ow.”
“sorry.”
there’s a half-second of eye contact that lasts slightly too long.
walker clears his throat. “i’ll get it.”
he adjusts his grip so he can reach the handle without twisting your wrist. the door swings open.
stairs.
you both pause.
“don’t fall,” he says.
“don’t yank.”
halfway down, your sneaker catches the edge of a step.
your body tips forward.
his hand instantly tightens and he pulls you upright against him before you can fully stumble.
your shoulder hits his chest.
camera zoom.
the background producer immediately goes “ooooh.”
he doesn’t let go immediately.
“…watch it,” he mutters, softer now.
“i said don’t yank.”
“i didn’t yank.”
but he stays slightly closer the rest of the way down.
challenge two: take public transport three stops
the city is busy. people notice the cuffs immediately.
someone whispers. someone laughs. someone definitely takes a photo.
you try to act normal.
you are not normal.
at the metro entrance, you both attempt to tap the card.
you move first.
he moves at the exact same time.
your wrists twist awkwardly.
“wait— stop— you’re bending my hand,” you whisper-laugh.
“then don’t fight me for the scanner.”
“i wasn’t fighting—”
the machine beeps red.
the lady behind you sighs loudly.
walker presses his lips together, trying not to smile.
“okay. on three,” he says.
“one.”
“two.”
“three.”
you both slam the card down together.
green.
you both cheer way too loud.
on the train, there are no seats.
so you’re standing.
close.
like, way closer than you usually stand.
every time the train jerks, your hips bump. your shoulders brush. your joined hands shift.
“personal space,” you murmur.
“we are literally attached,” he whispers back.
a sharp turn makes you lose balance slightly and your free hand grabs the fabric of his hoodie without thinking.
you both freeze.
you let go quickly.
“sorry.”
“it’s fine.”
he adjusts your joined hands again, subtly turning his wrist so it’s more comfortable for you.
he pretends he didn’t.
you notice.
the cameraman zooms in on your wrists.
challenge three: agree on one meal in under two minutes
you walk into a small burger place.
rule: no splitting. one meal. you both eat it.
“no pineapple,” he says immediately.
“it’s not even a pizza place.”
“just making sure.”
you scan the menu.
“two hamburgers.”
“too basic.”
“you’re basic.”
“you rewatch the same shows.”
“you rewatch movies and quote them like it’s a personality.”
“it is a personality.”
the worker behind the counter is visibly invested.
“one minute left,” the producer calls.
you panic-order the double cheeseburger combo with two giant sodas.
walker smirks. “you won’t finish that.”
“watch me.”
you absolutely do.
and then you feel it.
that dangerous shift in your stomach.
you ignore it.
big mistake.
challenge four: city scavenger hunt
find:
• a dog in clothes
• someone who recognizes you both
• buy each other a souvenir under $10
you’re halfway down a bus shopping street when it hits harder.
you slow.
walker keeps walking.
your arm yanks him back slightly.
he turns. “why are you lagging.”
you stare straight ahead.
“…nothing.”
he squints.
"what.”
you lean closer so the mic barely picks it up.
“…i need to pee."
the cameraman audibly chokes.
walker blinks.
"like eventually or like—”
“like now.”
he glances at the camera. back at you.
“…the keys are at the studio.”
“i’m aware.”
“that’s thirty minutes.”
“i know.”
you’re shifting weight from foot to foot now.
he exhales, trying not to laugh because he knows if he laughs you’ll murder him.
“okay. we're finding a bathroom. now.”
bathroom hunt
three cafés say “customers only.”
you’re bouncing on your heels.
he sighs. “fine. we’re buying something.”
“i cannot wait for you to debate pastries.”
“i’m not debating—”
he debates.
you finally get the key to the restroom.
you both stand outside the stall.
look at the cuffs.
look at each other.
“turn around,” you say immediately.
“obviously i’m turning around?? what do you think i was gonna do.”
you squeeze into the stall together because there is literally no other option.
he faces the wall dramatically, hands up like he’s being arrested for real.
“this is the worst day of my life.”
“you dared me to finish the soda.”
“…fair.”
the cameraman is outside absolutely losing it.
it’s chaotic. embarrassing. but somehow not as awkward as you thought it would be.
because he keeps it light. doesn’t tease you too much. just stays steady.
when you’re done and washing hands together (awkward elbow maneuvering included), he quietly says,
“you good?”
you nod.
“…yeah.”
and for a split second he looks relieved.
then immediately goes back to being annoying.
“never accepting a soda challenge again.” he rolls his eyes, “next time, i’m picking the drinks.”
you bump his shoulder with yours. “next time, you’re the one suffering.”
“never.”
he’s smiling though.
dog in clothes
you finally spot a tiny pug in a sweater.
you both gasp at the same time.
“ask,” he whispers.
“you ask.”
“you’re better at people.”
“you’re famous.”
“barely. besides, you are too.”
you approach together like a weird two-person unit.
you politely ask to film the dog.
walker crouches down and the dog immediately loves him.
“traitor,” you mutter to the dog.
he smirks at you. “i have that effect.”
———
recognized in public
it happens when a group of teens walking by stop mid-step.
“wait— is that—”
walker freezes.
you freeze.
“oh my god it is.”
they notice the cuffs.
one of them screams.
“ARE YOU GUYS ACTUALLY—”
“it’s a challenge,” you both say at the exact same time.
you look at each other.
“…jinx,” he says.
you roll your eyes but you’re smiling.
final challenge: buy each other something under $10
you walk into a small souvenir shop.
it’s cramped.
you’re forced even closer.
you try to split directions.
the cuffs say no.
“stop pulling,” he mutters.
“i’m not pulling.”
“you absolutely are.”
you browse keychains. bracelets. postcards.
he pretends he doesn’t care.
but he keeps glancing at you.
you grab a tiny handcuff-shaped keychain and hold it up.
“how original,” he says.
you grin. “it’s symbolic.”
“of poor decisions.”
he still buys it.
clips it to his bag immediately.
you pretend not to notice.
then he hands you a simple bracelet in your favorite color.
“it matched,” he shrugs.
“matched what.”
“…just matched.”
he doesn’t elaborate.
the camera zooms in on your face.
you try to play it cool.
“thanks.”
———
back at the studio
you’re both slightly sunburned. slightly sweaty. definitely bonded by trauma.
the producer unlocks the cuffs.
click.
your wrists separate.
it feels weirdly quiet.
you both glance down at your hands.
he flexes his fingers.
“freedom,” he says.
but neither of you step away immediately.
“would you do it again?” the producer smirks.
he looks at you.
you look at him.
“…maybe,” he says.
“with conditions,” you add.
“no soda.”
“no pineapple.”
“still no.”
you both start fake arguing as the outro music plays.
but right before the camera cuts, he bumps your shoulder lightly.
not teasing.
just there.
and for half a second, you kinda miss being attached.
nina speaks!
this is not supposed to be sexual in any way, shape or form.
like stated at the start, i couldn't find the original request, but i hope this is what you meant anon!
thank you for reading.
not proof read!!
requests are always open!
feel free to request anything, specific or not!
if you wanna be added to my taglist, interact with this post!
In Which Lucifer and Alastor are Handcuffed Together
This trope is a delight, and I love how several different people all took a look at this particular duo and thought, "These two need to be handcuffed together, just to see what'll happen."
Egg-Plosion 2025 Fics: TrashDemonX and I were both chosen as writers for fics based on AikonicGoof's "RadioApple Handcuffed Together" drawing for @egg-plosion 2025!
Niffty's Favor by CursedCatJoules - My fic (ongoing but posting on a once-every-other-day schedule) is pure unadulterated smutty crack. RadioApple-shipper Niffty has chained these two up in a drunken haze, and they need to figure out how to get out of the things.
Bound By Pride by TrashDemonx - Trashy's fic (ongoing but posting on a once-a-week schedule) is a gorgeous and smutty romantic comedy, featuring some of the most armchair-gripping levels of sexual tension of anything I've read!
And the art!
Non-Egg-Plosion-Related Fics That I Also Love:
Unadulterated loathing by Godlizza - The OG "RadioApple Handcuffed Together" plotline! Rated T+, and it is SUCH a sweet story! Ongoing, but the plot can be separated into "Chapters 1-11" and "Chapters 12 Onward" elegantly, so if you're the type who Only Reads Completed Works, you could absolutely get your preferred experience by reading til Chapter 11 and saving this fic to your bookmarks to finish later! But yes, highly recommend checking this fic out; the Chapter 1-11 plot is adorable, and the plot from Chapter 12 onwards makes SO much sense as a "sequel plot", using the satisfying ending of the first arc as a jumping-off point!
The Murderer's Two Step by anantipodean - This fic already has its own post on my blog, y'all know how much I love it. Completed, 100k+, Human AU, non-explicit, either romantic or not depending on your perspective (but DAMN is it emotionally resonant either way), mystery novel featuring (among many other things) Alastor being put in charge of Lucifer's well-being through the use of these handcuffs. An absolute treat!
okay, so maybe it wasn't dustin's best idea. in his defense, he didn't MEAN to get them locked together, he just thought they could use some bonding.
"we're bonded enough, henderson! dammit!"
"okay! im sorry, im sorry..."
"could ya just find the key, dustin?"
"i told you guys, it didn't come with a key!"
"for a genius, you're pretty fucking stupid."
dustin rolled his eyes "i said sorry, eddie!"
eddie huffed, trying to cross his arms, yanking steve's arm along with it. "watch it," steve whined. eddie sighed "sorry, stevie."
dustin grimaced, he didn't know they were together! like together, together! it's not his fault they didn't tell anyone.
eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, "dust, tell me this. you hand cuffed us together, while we were sleeping. IN THE SAME BED." he sighed, calming himself. "so why, pray tell, did you think we needed bonding." dustin shrugged, "i dunno... you guys just acted so weird... around... oh."
"yeah, oh! dustin, i have to work tomorrow!" steve huffed.
"i'll find a key by then! don't worry..."
he did NOT find a key by then. in fact he didn't find a key for another 3 days.
For @ghostbsuter for the BatPham secret santa exchange, with an illustration also by me. (Posting here on tumblr late since it was supposed to be anonymous for a little while)
You can also read it on AO3
[No applicable warnings]
Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time Jason had woken up on a cold, concrete floor with no idea how he'd gotten there. He didn't exactly keep count of specific bullshit like that, but if he were to hazard a guess, he'd say it was probably the fourth or fifth time at least. And it was always concerning.
His joints groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He'd slept in worse places, but a concrete floor made for a less than ideal bed, to put it lightly, and his back was killing him. The soreness in his body was the first thing he noticed as he started to take stock of the situation.
The second thing Jason noticed was a heavy cuff around his left wrist—one half of a pair of strange-looking handcuffs that didn't appear to have any sort of lock or even hinge to open them. The other half of the handcuffs was attached to... he didn't really know.
Well, no. He knew that it was a young man—probably about the same age as Jason himself, close to six feet tall, if not a few inches taller, but built like a beanpole, with messy black hair—still unconscious. What Jason didn't know was who exactly this random-ass dude was, or why they were handcuffed together.
Or where they were.
Or... how they'd ended up there.
Come to think of it, the last thing Jason remembered was stepping out of his apartment to do his rounds of Crime Alley around 9pm. He wasn't wearing his Red Hood uniform now, though, and when he felt around his body, he discovered that all his weapons were gone, even the little ones he kept hidden in his civvies.
His wristwatch showed 1:55, and it was still ticking, which meant it had been at least five hours since then, unless someone had messed with it for some reason. He had a strong sense that it had been a lot longer, but no memory of any of the time that had passed.
No matter how much he concentrated, or tried to dig up the memories of what series of events had led him to this situation, he kept coming up blank. Heat started to build in his chest as frustration rose, but for some reason it felt... different, compared to the kind of anger he was used to, quieter, almost muted, and less overwhelming.
He shrugged it off and tried to examine the room he was currently in.
It was basically a big cement box. The walls and floors were covered in water stains and scrape marks. The way the floor sloped suggested this place was at least partially underground, but there were windows along one wall near the ten foot ceiling, so it wasn't completely subterranean.
Jason guessed this place was probably some kind of cell, maybe even an interrogation room... maybe even a torture room. But there were no chains hanging from the ceiling, or rack of weapons, or anything. It was empty except for himself and the unconscious stranger next to him. For now.
The one thing Jason didn't see, though he twisted around and craned his neck looking for one, was a door.
The guy he was handcuffed to stirred, and Jason waited for him to wake up, but instead, he just rolled over, tugging on the handcuffs and pulling Jason closer to him in the process, and kept on sleeping.
Great. Real helpful.
Jason rolled his eyes and fished around in his pocket for any kind of tool that might help him get out of these cuffs. He didn't find anything.
Even if he had, there was no lock to pick. No keypad to try and guess a combination. Not even a chain to try and break with brute strength. The cuffs were held together with a glowing green cord that didn't even strain in the slightest when Jason tried as hard as he could to break it. Since he didn't know what it was made of, he didn't know what signs of strain would even look like.
He looked down at the softly snoring guy beside him. He was actually pretty nice-looking. His skin was smooth, if pale, his jawline sharp, his nose strong, his ears slightly pointed, a bit like an elf. Looking closely, though, the guy had some serious eye-bags. Jason wouldn't be surprised if this was the most sleep he'd gotten in weeks. Too bad he was the only one Jason could ask about this situation.
"Hey!" Jason shouted, roughly shaking him by the shoulders. "Wake up sleeping beauty!"
"Aww, you think I'm beautiful?" mumbled the guy, still clearly half-asleep, even as he wriggled up into a sitting position with a wide yawn that revealed sharper-than-normal canines.
"Are you familiar with a little thing called sarcasm?" Jason said, despite the fact that he had literally just been thinking about how attractive this guy was. He didn't need to know that, whoever he was.
"Too familiar, if you ask my sister." Ice-blue eyes blinked open and fixed Jason with a blank look. "Who're you?" Those eyes widened and looked around, taking in their surroundings for the first time with shock. "Where is this?"
"I dunno," Jason said. "I was hoping you would."
"That I would know what?" the other asked. "Who you are or where this is? Do you not remember your name? I remember mine. It's Danny."
"I'm Jason," he said. "Obviously, I meant the second thing."
God, Jason took back everything he thought about his looks, this dude was already annoying enough to cancel them out.
"So does that mean you don't know where we are either? Do you know how we got here? Did we get kidnapped or something? The last thing I remember is leaving work and after that... I got nothing."
"God, shut up," Jason growled. "I regret waking you up already."
"These are kinda like Skulker's," the stranger said, ignoring Jason and examining the shackles that tied the two of them together. He laughed. "Man, I'm kinda gettin' déjà vu. You wouldn't happen to secretly be a heavily armed vigilante with a red costume hellbent on destroying me, would you?"
Jason froze. "What?" he demanded.
The response was a chuckle and a shake of his head. "Don't worry about it—private joke."
Jason dragged a hand down his face with a groan. "Why couldn't I have woken up handcuffed to fuckin', I don't know, Roy or something instead of an obnoxious total stranger."
"Again, Danny. We've met already."
"When?"
"Like two minutes ago," Danny said, brows furrowing in frustration. "Nice to know you were paying attention, Jason. See, I remember your name."
"Whatever," Jason said gruffly, rising to his feet, and ignoring the way Danny winced as he got dragged up after him. "We need to find a way out of here."
"Worked that out all by yourself, Sherlock?" Danny scoffed, twisting the shackle around his right wrist to give them both a little more space.
Now that they were both standing, Jason could see that Danny was a good three inches taller than him, and his irritation towards him grew.
"I don't think we're gonna get outta these cuffs without a key-card or a saw," Danny said.
"Key card?"
"I mean, I assume." He shrugged. "No keyhole, no number pad, no fancy lock, just a flat metal surface and an EPC cord."
"What's an EPC cord?"
"Don't worry about it," Danny said again, and Jason sneered.
"Fine," he said. "Let's start with getting out of this room. I don't see any doors, do you?"
"No, but there could be secret passages or something." Danny looked around again, remarkably unconcerned by this whole situation, for a civilian. "I see windows. They're kinda high up, but if we can get to them somehow, maybe they're big enough for us to get through."
"At the very least, if we can see out, we might get a better idea of where we are."
With minimal tugging on the shackles that bound them together, the two of them walked over to the wall. The windows were much too high for either of them to reach alone.
"Get on my shoulders," Jason commanded.
"Uh... are you sure about that?"
"Well I'm sure as hell not getting on your narrow shoulders, Jack Sprat," he scoffed. "I'm pretty sturdy, I'm sure I can handle you."
"No, I mean... our cuffs are on opposite hands," Danny pointed out.
"So what?"
"So, if I get on your shoulders, we're gonna have to face... different directions. Our arms won't be able to reach that far across while I'm getting up," he said, then hastily added, "on your shoulders," as if Jason might think he was talking about something else.
"Whatever, man, we need to know what's outside, so climb the fuck on and stop wasting my time." Jason stood with his back toward the wall and squatted to give Danny easier access to his shoulders.
Danny hesitated for a few seconds until Jason used his uncuffed hand to pat his shoulder impatiently.
"Okay... if you're sure about this."
Carefully, he slid one leg between Jason's head and their manacled hands, and then hefted the other over until his knees were hooked over Jason's shoulders.
And Jason, now with a face-full of Danny's crotch, finally caught on to the reason for Danny's hesitance. He turned his face into the slightly less objectionable position of being buried in Danny's thigh and leaned his head away as much as he could, trying not to blush and failing miserably. Both hands reached up to hold onto Danny's thighs for stability as he carefully stood up.
Even sitting on Jason's shoulders, Danny had to use his free hand to pull himself up a little further to see through the window.
"Do you see anything?"
"It's definitely outdoors," Danny responded. "It's dark so it must be night right now. I don't see any people, either, but I don't have a great angle. Looks almost like a military base." He looked down at Jason questioningly. "Did we get kidnapped by the military?"
"How should I know? Last thing I remember is leaving my apartment to go... uh... grocery shopping," he covered quickly.
Come to think of it, Jason really did need to go grocery shopping. He was getting low on a lot of things and it wasn't smart to have a safe-house less than fully stocked. Plus, some of his canned goods were getting close to the expiration date, so he should really donate them before then, even if expiration dates were mostly bogus, he felt better when food got eaten before them. Safer. He really didn't want to get E. coli again, like that time when he was a kid. Once was more than enough.
On the bright side, though, thinking about foodborne illnesses was helping Jason fight off his blush. Silver-linings.
"Can you climb out through the window?" he asked.
Three loud bonks echoed in the concrete room.
"Outlook not so good," Danny replied. "Shatterproof, and a solid inch thick, and I'm at a terrible angle to try and break it, even if I could. Judging by the water stains, it leaks around the edges, but it's not loose enough to just pry it out without tools. Looks like the windows aren't an option, unless you have a crowbar on you."
Jason grimaced. "No."
"I guess we gotta look for another way out of here," Danny said. "Let me down."
Jason slowly knelt down so he could carefully extricate himself from his perch.
"The two of us got in here somehow, so there must be some way to get out," Danny continued, dragging Jason by the handcuff to another wall and feeling around for... secret passages or something? Jason didn't know.
"Unless this is a Cask of Amontillado kind of situation."
"What's that?" Danny asked. "Some kinda booze?"
"No, it's..." Jason paused, considering. "Well... actually, yes, but I was referring to the short story by Edgar Allan Poe."
"Oh, the raven guy! Yeah, my goth friend loves him. Personally I'm not much of a reader. Too busy, y'know."
Jason pulled a face. "Poor excuse," he said. "Anyway, what I meant is that they might have walled us in while we were unconscious."
"You think?" Danny asked, taking his hand off the wall. "Isn't that too convoluted? I mean if they had us in this room, unconscious, why not just shoot us, or stab us, or even strangle us? There are so many much simpler and easier ways to kill someone. Why go through the trouble of walling us in?"
"You have a point," Jason admitted. "Plus, if there was no way to escape, why bother handcuffing us together? If we're dealing with the kind of people who can knock us out and erase our memories, then there has to be some reason for them keeping us alive."
"What if this is a test?" Danny asked. "Like an escape room or something?"
"Somehow, I don't think that's likely," Jason disagreed. "If they wanted us to escape, they'd have left a note or something, or some kind of tool. I don't see anything written on the walls, so at least we know it's not the Riddler's doing. My guess is, whoever put us in here is just saving us for later."
"You think so?"
Danny went back to feeling around the flat wall resolutely.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for a secret door!" he said. "If they plan to come get us later then there has to be an exit somewhere."
"It could be a door that only opens from the other side," Jason pointed out. "Plus, we don't know if they cuffed us before or after putting us in here. It's possible the exit is too small for two people cuffed together."
"Why are you being such a downer?" Danny complained.
"I'm just trying to cover all our bases."
"If that were the case, you'd be pointing out bases we can actually cover!" barked Danny, taking a step back from the wall to turn and glare at Jason. "If it's a one way door, or a passage two small for the both of us, there's nothing we can actually do about that. We should be focusing on the possibilities we can do something about."
Jason clenched his teeth and scowled. Normally this would be about where he started to lose his temper, but remarkably, he was still under control. As much as this guy was getting under his skin, Jason somehow managed to keep his cool. He wasn't going to tell Danny he was right... but he was right. And, if only in his own mind, Jason could acknowledge that without blowing up at someone.
"If there's a secret door, you should be looking for it where there are seams in the concrete," Jason said instead. "They'd make it easier to hide."
Instantly, Danny's eyes darted across the walls before landing on the nearest seam. At least he actually listened.
"Hey!" Jason yelped as Danny dragged him to it. What a hyperactive guy. "Ugh. You'll also want to look for scrape marks that could indicate a door swinging or sliding open, although those could be on the opposite side. And there's also a chance—if there's a secret door at all—that it could be on the floor or ceiling, like a trapdoor, or a hidden elevator."
"Got it."
"And if they weren't planning for us to slowly suffocate and die down here, then there's probably an air vent, too, although I doubt they'd make it big enough to crawl through."
Danny scoffed. "Especially for you, Mr. broad-shouldered muscle guy," he said.
There was an awkward pause before he added, "That was supposed to be an insult. You're big and probably heavy, was what I was going for. It's not my fault you're obviously buff."
"I'm big?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "Look who's talking, stretch."
"Hey, I'm not that tall!" replied Danny, indignantly. "My sister is taller. And my dad is like seven feet, so compared to that, six-three is basically average."
"Jesus Christ, how tall's your sister? What, is she an Amazon or something?"
"She's six foot five, and no, she's not an Amazon, she's a brain surgeon—well, going to be. She's still in medical school, but she graduates this year."
"What did your parents feed you two?"
For some reason, that particular question seemed to strike a nerve, and Danny shifted, visibly uncomfortable.
"Can we just focus on finding a way out? Please?"
"Fine, sure," Jason relented. "Somebody's sensitive."
Danny ignored him and kept dragging him along to the next seam in the wall.
"Look," Jason pointed to the floor. There was a tiny white scrape mark at the bottom of the seam.
"Scrape mark!" Danny noted. "This could be it."
"If it is, it'll open outward. But there's no guarantee we can force it open from this side, and we have no idea what's on the other side."
"If there are guards or something, we'll have to be ready for a fight," Danny agreed.
"Our only shot at opening it—if it actually is a secret door and not a coincidence—is gonna be slamming our full body weight into it," Jason said. "We need to concentrate as much of the force as we can right on the edge. Think you can handle it?"
"Sure I can," Danny agreed, positioning himself to body-slam the wall.
For a bare moment, Jason considered just standing still and watching Danny slam himself full-force into a concrete wall. It would definitely be good for a laugh. But them being tied together meant that Jason would probably just fall on his face. And on the off-chance it was a secret door, he would rather die again that have to hear this particular pain-in-the-ass say 'I told you so'.
"Ready?" Danny asked.
Reluctantly, Jason positioned himself and nodded.
"On three. One. Two. Three!"
the two of them took a running start and slammed into the wall as hard as they could. Even with the meaty parts of his body absorbing most of the impact, Jason still grunted in pain. Surprisingly, Danny didn't even seem to flinch.
More surprisingly, the concrete shifted. Putting their whole weight into it, the pair of them pushed as hard as they could. There was a quiet scraping sound as it dragged across the floor. Soon enough, though, the hidden door was open, and they were standing on the other side.
"I can't believe there was actually a hidden door," Jason remarked as it slowly fell closed behind them. "Honestly, I was just humoring you."
"Hey!" Danny sounded surprised and a little upset.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Now we have to get out of this room," Jason put his free hand on his hip and looked unimpressed.
The room they were in now was much smaller than the room they had been in before. Thankfully, there were no guards inside. The ceiling was the same height as the room they'd just left—even if the room itself was smaller—with a single florescent light and an air vent that looked like it might be big enough for them. There was also a door and a window with blinds opposite the secret door they'd come through.
On this side of the secret door was a keypad and retinal scanner.
Now that he was seeing this side, Jason felt sure that the two of them should not have been able to force the door open from the other side with brute strength. Either he was a lot stronger than he thought he was... or Danny was a lot stronger than he gave him credit for. He side-eyed the taller man suspiciously.
"At least this room has a door," Danny said. Jason easily followed as he stepped over to look through the window. He spread the blinds with his fingers, and almost instantly let them fall shut again.
"What is it?"
"White suit," Danny said. He looked as if he was holding his breath, muscles stiff and jaw clenched.
"What does that mean?" Jason asked.
Danny looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head and visibly forcing himself to relax. "Nothing," he said finally. "Just a weird fashion choice."
Jason narrowed his eyes, wondering why Danny would lie when his reaction had obviously been about more than just his fashion choices. Danny kept talking before Jason could press, though, so Jason decided to let it slide for the time being.
"Anyway, I was wondering how long it would take before we ran into a guard," Danny said. "It's just the one, though, and he has headphones on playing music so loud I can hear it through the window. That's probably why he didn't hear us up to now. I'm sure we can take him."
"I'd rather not tip them off to our escape if we can avoid it," Jason disagreed. He jerked his head upward, indicating the air vent. "I'm pretty sure that vent will hold us. You think we can get up there?"
Danny examined it with a thoughtful look. It was definitely too high for him to reach just by sitting on Jason's shoulders like before, but it was worth a shot if it meant getting out of here without anyone realizing they were gone.
"How much do you weigh?" Danny asked.
"About 225," Jason answered.
"Damn, okay," Danny said. "Yeah, I can get up there, but we'd better hope that vent is really strong."
"You can?"
"Yeah." Danny grabbed Jason by the shoulders and carefully positioned him right under the vent. "Stand here, and hold as still as you can."
With that, Danny tightened his grip, jumped off the floor, and kicked off the wall behind him, so he was doing a hand-stand on Jason's shoulders, his knees bent. He quickly straitened his knees, kicking the vent cover out.
Jason reached out his uncuffed hand to catch it as it fell to the ground. Even with headphones on, the guard would have heard it clatter. Although... he should have heard the crash, too. Damn, he must have had his volume maxed out. He was likely to ruin his hearing that way.
Danny wriggled is way up into the vent, and then reached down to pull Jason up after him. It was awkward, and took both of their combined strength, but they managed to get Jason up there.
"Wow, you really are sturdy," Danny remarked at a whisper. "You didn't even sway or anything."
"You're really not that heavy," Jason said. "That was... kind of impressive, though, I'll admit. You're stronger than I expected."
"Ha, thanks."
The two of them were on their stomachs, their faces just inches away from each other in a dark, dusty vent. Jason cleared his throat.
"We should get moving," he said. "You go backward. The vent probably gets smaller toward the room we were trapped in."
"Got it."
Danny began awkwardly shimmying backward through the vent with Jason following closely. Thanks to their shackles, they couldn't put much breathing room between them. A few times, they nearly knocked their foreheads together.
Jason was grateful for the darkness. There was no way Danny could see how red his face was.
God, when was this uncomfortable foray through the vents going to be over? The quarters were way too close. Jason could smell Danny's lemony-fresh lip balm. And he was very deliberately having no thoughts about that.
Suddenly, Danny stopped, and Jason once more narrowly avoided slamming their faces together by accident. There was a soft tapping sound coming from behind Danny.
"This is either a dead end behind me, or another grate," he said.
"Well, which one is it?"
"Shhh!"
Jason scowled, but was silent, letting Danny listen for whatever he needed to hear to decide what the answer was.
"I'm pretty sure I hear crickets," he said finally. "So it's a grate... probably. I'm gonna try and kick it out and see what happens."
Danny squirmed a little farther back, lining himself up, giving his feet as much room as possible so he could kick the grate with maximum force.
Then there was a loud clang and a quiet thud of metal on dirt.
"Yup, grate," Danny said, working his way back out of the opening.
Finally, they were outside, and what a relief it was to be more than three inches away from Danny's face.
"What was that?" they heard someone say from around the corner.
"Shit," Jason whispered.
He grabbed the vent cover in one hand and Danny's hand in the other and hurried as quietly as he could. Hopefully, if there wasn't a dented vent cover laying there, they would think nothing was amiss. The dirt was dry and shifty, so it probably wouldn't leave clear footprints, especially if they were running. At least... he hoped it wouldn't.
When he was pretty sure no one had followed them, he stopped in a narrow path between the back of a building and a chain-link fence and chucked the vent cover over to the other side.
"You know, we're handcuffed together," Danny pointed out. "You don't have to hold my hand."
Jason immediately dropped Danny's hand like it had burned him. "I didn't mean to. I was trying to act fast."
"Sure you were."
"Shut up," Jason hissed. "Listen, I don't think we're in Gotham anymore."
"You're right," Danny agreed. "If there was a base like this in Gotham city limits, I would know about it. So where do you think we are?"
"I don't know, but the more pressing question is: how do we get out of here when we don't know where we are or which way we're going?"
Danny gestured for Jason to follow and led the way to the edge of the building, very carefully peering around the corner. "There, you see that big warehouse looking building with the curved roof?" he asked, pointing it out.
Jason looked around the corner and easily spotted it. "Yeah. That's an aircraft hangar, right?"
"Bingo," Danny said.
Jason grinned. He didn't know planes very well, but if there was a helicopter in there, he could fly them home. It would be loud, though, so once he got the engine going, he'd have to act fast.
"We should skirt around the edges, less risk of running into someone," Jason said.
Danny nodded in agreement.
Quickly and quietly, the two of them made their way along the chain-link fence, sprinting across the gaps between buildings, until they reached the back door of the aircraft hangar.
"Locked," Jason sneered. "Help me find a big rock."
"Or..." Danny said, pulling Jason closer by the handcuff. He wrapped the cord around the door handle in a weird and very particular way, then pulled as hard as he could.
The handle came out completely. They could hear the clatter on the other side of the door as the opposite side fell to the floor. Then Danny reached in to pull out the latch. He held it up with a victorious smirk.
Jason blinked in shock as the door swung open all on its own. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, pushing past Danny. He refused to be impressed by something as simple as opening a door... even if it was kind of impressive.
They couldn't risk turning any lights on, meaning they had to check each aircraft one-by one, but none of these shadowy silhouettes looked like a helicopter. And upon closer inspection, none of them looked like regular planes either.
"What are these? Experimental crafts?" Jason asked. "I can't fly any of these."
Danny snorted. "You thought you were gonna fly them?" he asked.
Jason could feel his frustration growing again. He finally realized why it felt different though. No matter how much Danny got on his nerves, it was only regular frustration and anger. The Lazarus Pit inside him stayed still and silent. It had been silent the whole time. Was it this place? Or was it something weird about Danny himself.
"Oh, and you think you're gonna fly a fuckin' experimental stealth bomber or hyper-sonic jet?" Jason scoffed.
"Uh... yeah," Danny said obviously. "I mean, I'm a test pilot for Wayne Enterprises' aeronautics and space division. It's kinda what I do."
"... oh."
"We should go with a stealth jet," Danny said, pulling Jason over to a plane they'd passed earlier, one which was painted pitch black. "That way they'll have a harder time tracking us once they realize we're gone."
"I agree, but as soon as that hangar door opens, we're gonna have guards on our asses," Jason pointed out.
"Right. I'll see if one of these jets has vertical takeoff capabilities so we don't have to get to a runway."
After examining all the stealth planes in the hangar, the best they could find was one with near-vertical takeoff capabilities. It would have to be enough. Danny deactivated the tracker so their captors wouldn't be able to follow, and then prepared for them to take off. The engine was nearly silent as he taxied the small jet in front of the hangar door.
The next problem was that, to open the hangar door, someone would have to stand there and hold down the door button.
"We could tape it down," Danny suggested.
"With what fucking tape?" Jason shot back.
"How are you at knot tying?"
"We don't have rope or string either, genius."
"I can tear a strip of fabric off my shirt," Danny said, frowning in irritation. "Why are you always shooting down my ideas?"
Jason wanted to argue—mostly because Danny just generally made him want to argue, but he wanted to get out of here more. "Fine, yes, I'm good at knot tying. That'll probably—possibly, potentially work. Maybe."
"Why can't you admit that I had a good idea?"
"Because you're a pain in the ass."
"Oh, and you're not?" Danny shot back, rolling his eyes.
He lifted up the bottom of his shirt to tear the hem off with his teeth, and Jason was surprised to see lean muscle and toned abs—though perhaps he shouldn't have been, considering how strong Danny had already proven to be, despite how skinny he looked. Even more surprising, and definitely more noteworthy, however, was the large, Y shaped scar spanning Danny's entire torso.
Jason bit back a gasp as his hand slowly reached up to his own chest, his fingers landing on the intersection of a scar just like that.
Danny was like him.
Danny had died and come back, like Jason had. Was that why the pit was so quiet around him? Was that why Jason felt so inexplicably antagonistic?
"Here." Danny held out a strip of white fabric for Jason to take, apparently not noticing that he was still staring.
Jason took it, but didn't start tying yet. He couldn't stop thinking about it. About Danny.
"How did you get that scar?" Jason asked. He couldn't help himself.
Danny's eyes widened. "What scar?"
"The fucking Y-incision scar across your torso! What the hell do you mean 'what scar'?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Danny said, though the way he shifted his weight and averted his eyes suggested that he knew exactly what Jason was talking about. "Can you just tie down the button so we can get out of here?"
"Fine," Jason relented through gritted teeth. They'd have plenty of time to talk on the plane.
He tightly wrapped the fabric until the button pushed down and tied it securely. Once that was done, and the door was steadily rising, the two of them sprinted toward the jet in lockstep.
By the time the got to the jet and took their seats in the cockpit, the door was only halfway open.
An alarm was sounding outside, and guards had already arrived. There were dozens of them, men in white suits forming a solid line across the entire entryway. They took aim with futuristic-looking laser weapons, but unfortunately for them, it seemed their jet was laser-proof.
As one, Danny and Jason turned to each other.
"How cool are you with just running these guys over?" they asked one another in unison.
Danny laughed and started flipping switches. "Guess that answers that question," he said cheerfully. "If they value their lives they'll move."
Maybe Danny wasn't so bad after all.
Jason watched in awe. He could barely recognize any of the controls. They looked like nothing he'd seen before, and he couldn't even guess the purpose of half of them, but Danny took to them with practiced ease. Jason just let his arm be pulled across the cockpit by their manacles without resistance.
In no time the jet was moving, and those white-suited guards held steady until the last possible second before diving out of the way. Jason had no idea how Danny timed it so perfectly, but as soon as they cleared the hangar, they started lifting off into the sky.
"Jason, see that switch there?" Danny pointed to a blue switch on Jason's side of that dashboard. "That should be the landing gear. Flip it!"
Jason did so quickly, and they felt a slight shift as the landing gear collapsed into the underside of the plane just in time to avoid clipping the building across. Danny sighed with relief.
"Oh thank the Ancients," he said. "I was only about sixty percent sure that was the landing gear."
"Wait, have you been guessing at all the controls?"
"Most of 'em," Danny admitted with a shrug. "I'm a test pilot for experimental planes and rockets and stuff. I've flown countless different crafts, all with slightly different controls, but they're all variations on the same standard. Like, see these blue buttons next to the screen. One is global positioning, one is radar, one is proximity cameras. Do I know which is which? Of course not. I've never flown this model before. But I know they're all there."
Jason pressed each of the three buttons. The top was radar, the center was proximity cameras, and the bottom was GPS, just like Danny had guessed.
"Looks like we're over the Midwest, flying east," Jason observed.
Danny looked down at the screen and adjusted his heading to a slightly more southerly direction.
"Where are we gonna land exactly?" Jason asked.
"I was thinking the airport," Danny said. "They have air traffic control there, so we can minimize the risk of crashing. We should have plenty of fuel. I just hope the weather's not against us. It was supposed to snow, last I checked. Hopefully it won't be too bad."
For a short while, silence fell over them. Judging by their speed, the flight was going to be about an hour and a half, as long as the weather was fair. As much as two hours if they got caught in the snow. Without an approved route from the FAA, they had to fly at a lower altitude to avoid other crafts.
"So, when did you die?" Jason asked, hoping the shock of the sudden question might trick Danny into answering.
Danny just sighed. "How'd you know?"
"Well, the autopsy scar was kinda of a dead giveaway," Jason said.
Danny cracked a smile. "Right, autopsy."
"Plus... I don't know how to describe it, but I can kind of just... sense death on you. Did you get brought back in a Lazarus Pit too?"
"What's a Lazarus Pit?" Danny asked. "And what do you mean 'too'? Have you died before?"
"You didn't pick up on it? I thought it would be mutual."
"Well, you never set off my ghost sense or anything, so how would I know that? Now what's a Lazarus Pit."
"Some magic water or some shit that can heal wounds and bring the dead back to life," Jason said. "You never actually answered my original question though. When did you die? And how did you come back, if it wasn't a Lazarus Pit?"
"Oh, when I was fourteen," Danny said. "There was... it's complicated. Basically I died and was brought back to life at the same time? Something like that."
"Sounds intense."
"You have no idea," Danny shook his head. "What about you?"
"I was fifteen," Jason replied. "Joker." Danny winced. "I don't actually know how I came back either. I wasn't really lucid for a long time. It wasn't until I got thrown in a Lazarus Pit that I could remembered who I was."
"Yikes."
"That about sums it up, yeah."
Jason couldn't exactly pin-point when, but at some point between waking up in that cold, empty room, and flying in a stolen jet toward home, Danny had gone from a pure, unadulterated annoyance, to... a fond annoyance? Maybe even, almost, a friend? He had a nice laugh. Pretty eyes. And he was smarter than Jason had wanted to give him credit for, a quick-thinker.
Oh.
Oh no.
"Motherfucker," Jason cursed under his breath. He wasn't seriously becoming attracted to this idiot. No way.
"What?" Danny asked.
"Don't worry about it," Jason said. "So uh... how'd you start working for Wayne Enterprises?" Jason hoped that the reminder that this guy worked for Bruce would be enough of a turn-off to quash this thing before it really got rolling.
"I always wanted to be an astronaut, so after I got my pilot certification, I applied to every aeronautics and space facility in the country, and of the places that accepted my application, Wayne Enterprises paid the best."
"Shame about having to work for Bruce Wayne, though," Jason said. "That guy's an idiot."
"I've never actually met him," Danny said. "Any time he comes in to check up on everything, I make myself scarce. I don't exactly have the best track record with billionaires."
"And what the hell does that mean?"
"My godfather is a Billionaire," he started to explain. "He was friends with my parents in college. Shady as fuck, obsessed with my mom, tried to kill my dad several times so he could marry her and adopt me. Never mentioned my older sister for some reason. All-in-all, he was a major fruit loop, so I'm not pressing my luck with another billionaire who already has a substantial track record of adoptions. Nuh-uh. No way."
Jason snorted. Damn, that didn't work. He only liked Danny more now.
"What about you?" Danny asked. "What do you do for a living?"
"Uhh..." Jason tried to think of a suitable lie, since he couldn't exactly say he was a crime lord. "I... work... in Crime Alley."
"Are you a criminal?"
"What?"
"Well, you did say you work some place called Crime Alley," Danny pointed out reasonably. "And you're being very vague about the actual nature of that work. So I can only assume that you're a criminal. That or Crime Alley is the name of a sex shop or something. I could see that."
"No, Crime Alley is a neighborhood in Gotham," Jason said. "You haven't heard of it?"
"Maybe... in passing." Danny shrugged. "I've only lived in Gotham for about a year and a half. Anyway, if you are a criminal, I don't want to know. Plausible deniability is the name of the game, and I will not be responsible for saving your soul or whatever. I don't do that shit anymore."
Didn't seem to care if Jason was a criminal, or have any interest in 'fixing' him. Somehow, Danny was checking all the boxes.
"Anymore?"
"Don't worry about it."
"You know, you're kind of a weirdo," Jason said, and damn if that didn't make him even more attractive.
"I'm aware."
The conversation lulled once more, and Jason became more aware of his left hand hanging between them by the handcuffs while Danny kept both hands on the steering. It was starting to get pretty uncomfortable.
"Isn't there autopilot or something?" he asked. "My arm is getting tired."
"Is there autopilot at two-thirds cruising altitude, with no flight plan, and no approval from the FAA to be in the sky at all?" Danny said. "Hmm, let me think. Yeah, no."
"Right... well, I know a guy who can get these things off us. I'm calling him as soon as we get back to Gotham."
"And Ancients it can't be soon enough," Danny said. "Also, not gonna ask why you know a guy who can remove handcuffs."
"I know a lot of guys who can remove handcuffs." Jason shrugged. "Hell, if there was an actual lock on these, I could've removed 'em myself. Even without a lock, Dick could've slipped 'em by dislocating his thumb. It looks freaky as hell when he does it, though."
"Dick?" Danny turned to him momentarily to raise an eyebrow. "Is that his name or do you just hate the guy?"
"Both."
"Who willingly goes by Dick these days? And why?"
"Fuck if I know."
As the flight went on, the conversation waxed and waned. With what ended up being nearly two hours to fill, the two talked about many things: their homes, their hobbies. Danny talked about his sister the brain surgeon for a bit, but neither was particularly eager to talk about their families.
Conversation turned to banter, which turned to blatant flirting, and by the time they reached Gotham airspace, Jason was pretty sure he had the cute, undead test pilot in the bag.
"Air traffic control tower this is... uh... I don't know," Danny said. "We're an undesignated experimental craft, requesting permission to land preferably sooner rather than later, because we're low on fuel."
"This is air traffic control to undesignated aircraft, about how much longer can you stay airborne?"
"I estimate fifteen minutes at the most," Danny replied. "This thing burns through fuel a lot faster than I was expecting."
"Standby."
Soon enough they were on the ground. Then they had to try to explain to the airport employees why they were handcuffed together and flying an unregistered aircraft. It took a while, but Danny and Jason both, as it turned out, were quite proficient liars, and managed to get away without too much trouble, somehow.
They took a cab to the Bowery where Jason's locksmith sawed them out of the cuffs, and from there, they were able to go their separate ways. But Jason didn't want to part ways without knowing if he'd ever see Danny again.
"So uh..." he started to say while they hesitated on the sidewalk. "Can... can I walk you home?"
"I live all the way down in Tricorner," Danny said. "It's a bit far to walk."
"Okay, then how about you walk me home and I'll give you a ride in the morning?"
"Alright, smooth-talker." Danny smiled and held out his hand, and Jason took it with a smile of his own. "I'm in."
Just a thought radioapple in a death note au cause if I recall from the death note musical light yagami on stage was played by the voice actor of lucifer and the similarity when L and light fight and have to cooperate with eachother like alastor and lucifer argue and cooperate for the hotel and Charlie's sake but it would be funny to have then handcuffed together like a trust test
Ha! I’m low key obsessed with the idea of Alastor and Lucifer being handcuffed to each other in such a way now~. If it’s done on purpose, as you said, it would 100% be a Charlie induced exercise that she somehow guilts/pressures them into agreeing to for a few days. I need to draw something along these lines when I get home from work (if that’s all right). *vibrates in anticipation*
Summary: A pair of handcuffs turns up in the control room without explanation or obvious owner. As the TARDIS team discuss the options of how it could have got there, River appears the most likely culprit. Not wanting to get in the way of the Doctor’s love life, Liv and Helen decide to pop them in a drawer until needed. Those handcuffs, however, appear to have other ideas.
Stuck On You
The Doctor, Liv and Helen stood around the console, eyeing up an item that had simply appeared and interrupted their conversation of where to go next. There had been no warning. There had been no indication where it had come from. There had been no other concurrences that warranted investigating. It was quite simply the unexplained appearance that held their undivided attention. The object in question was a pair of handcuffs.
“Whose are they?” Liv asked, curious and distrusting, as she scanned the console room for other freak appearances or things out of place.
“Well, they’re not mine,” Helen retorted with a shrug and the med-tech mirrored her:
“Nor mine.”
They looked towards the Doctor who had remained suspiciously quiet through the exchange but he just held up his hands defensively.
“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for,” he shook his head.
“It IS your TARDIS,” Liv countered, scowling at him. He was best placed to provide an explanation. Even if they didn’t belong to him, surely he would be able to work out how they got there with a scanner of some sort or a quick flick of his screwdriver.
“My TARDIS that I have shared with plenty of travelling companions. That doesn’t mean anything. Besides, what use would I have for it?” He retorted, puzzled.
”What use would we have for it?” Helen gave back bewildered, as it wasn’t much of a defence.
“Well, I don’t know what you get up to when I’m not around,” the Doctor shrugged, leaning a little closer to the mysterious item.
“DOCTOR!” Liv exclaimed, mortified at the insinuation. Her cheeks flushed as her mind conjured up an unbidden image of a certain linguist leaning above her and Liv herself unable to move as she tore on the handcuffs that had been fixed to the bed frame…
“Maybe this is like that time the card just turned up on the console,” the Doctor thankfully interrupted her thoughts, unaware of the momentary discomfort he had caused.
“That actually is a reasonable assumption,” the med-tech tried to refocus her attention to the matter at hand and she couldn’t deny that River Song made a likely owner of said handcuffs.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Helen hummed beside her and Liv whispered in response:
“Maybe River wanted him to have them handy for when there is a need for them.”
“Again, wouldn’t surprise me,” the linguist grinned and they snickered under their breaths.
“What are you two whispering about?” The Doctor scowled, clearly displeased to be out of the conversation.
“Never you mind,” Liv gave him a knowing smirk and Helen added:
“I think we best just get rid of them, pop them in a drawer until they’re needed.”
“Yes, let’s,” the med-tech agreed, quite keen to carry on their journey as they had just agreed to visit a famed adventure sports world. She reached for the handcuffs, knowing the Doctor would otherwise just obsess over the mystery. The moment she touched them, one of the cuffs unlocked and snapped shut around her wrist. “What the-” Liv yelped in shock, jumped back and gave her hand a shack. She grabbed the other end, trying to pull the handcuffs off but they wouldn’t budge.
“Oh no,” Helen winced and the Doctor gave a mild, amused smile:
“Seems like they have a mind of their own…”
“Someone help me then,” Liv snapped, trying to find where the locking mechanism was but coming up short as she flung the handcuffs back and forth while moving her arm.
“Liv, hold still, let me-” While Helen was willing to take pity on her best friend, the Doctor seemed endlessly amused. The linguist grasped hold of Liv’s hand, turned her wrist to find the locking mechanism and, as she pulled the second cuff out of the way, it reared its head like a snake and snapped shut around her wrist in turn. “Oh no!” Helen exclaimed, pulling her hand back but all that happened was that she dragged Liv’s hand towards herself.
“For two objectively intelligent people such as yourselves, you two really are-” the Doctor started but they both shot him annoyed glances so he quickly fell silent.
“That’s rich coming from you!” The med-tech huffed, pulling her hand back and her best friend’s with it. It was no use. They were stuck.
“Stop wiggling,” the Doctor instructed and reached for his sonic screwdriver. Displeased at needing help but reasonable enough to know it was the easiest solution to the problem, they held out their hands to him. He gave the handcuffs a quick blast with his sonic and his companions pulled their hands back only to find they were still attached to each other. “Ah…” The Doctor’s face fell.
“Why isn’t it working?” Helen asked with concern creeping into her voice. It was unusual for the screwdriver not to do what was required. Particularly when it seemed like it should be an easy fix.
“I don’t know…” the Time Lord hummed, eyeing up his beloved instrument and finding nothing wrong, he gave the handcuffs another blast. Again, nothing happened but his sonic beeped pathetically.
“River. If I get a hold of her-” Liv grumbled and Helen shushed her, reminding her that their friend was not meant to know about his wife just yet. So the med-tech scowled and huffed curses under her breath while the Doctor gave the handcuffs a proper scan.
“Oh I think it might be voice activated,” he exclaimed, interpreting the readings.
“Voice activated?” Liv repeated as it seemed a strange concept. It did, however, explain the apparent absence of a physical lock.
“Release!” The Doctor stated enthusiastically and his companions waited for the effect that didn’t come. They remained stuck.
“Well, that worked brilliantly,” the med-tech snarked impatiently.
“It might need a password,” the Time Lord hummed, while scratching the back of his head thoughtfully.
“And what might the password be? How can we get it?” Helen interrupted hopefully.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea…” the Doctor conceded.
“Brilliant, this is just brilliant,” Liv groaned, exchanging a look with her best friend who didn’t seem enthused either. The linguist did, however, take the initiative as she focused on the handcuffs and said:
“Open.” Of course, nothing happened. “Please open,” she tried more politely. “Open handcuffs,” she tried being more specific and then, rephrased: “Release handcuffs.” She huffed, slowly getting annoyed and her brow knitted into a frown. “Open sesame.”
“Open sesame?” Liv echoed, bemused and bewildered, as there was something quite endearing about the kind, polite and collected linguist slowly losing her cool.
“Well, I don’t know, I don’t see you trying anything,” Helen shot back but couldn’t help a chuckle at the ridiculous situation. She carried on talking to the handcuffs: “River is the best.”
“River is the best?” That time, the med-tech almost burst out laughing.
“Wouldn’t put it past her to set it to something like that…” the linguist gave back and Liv found she couldn’t argue with that. It would be very like River. What she couldn’t figure out was why River would send them handcuffs that snapped shut when touched. For a moment, the realisation struck that they would have been meant for the Doctor and quickly, she shook her head free of the mortifying images that the thought conjured up.
“Right, you two keep trying out passwords, I will see if I can find a more scientific solution,” the Doctor instructed as he seemed to be at a bit of a loss himself. He didn’t wait for a response, he simply turned and marched off into a corridor, leaving them to wonder what exactly his solutions entailed.
It left the two of them in the console room and at a complete loss. Liv looked down at the handcuffs as their hands hung side by side and Helen’s brushed against hers, presumably unintentionally. It would be so easy to simply grasp it, the med-tech realised and oddly, she found the thought upsetting. Here she was with a genuine opportunity to do something she wanted to do but to feel her hand forced in such a way was unsettling. It gave her another reason to curse River.
Meanwhile, Helen started rambling:
”You know it could be anything… a number combination, letters and numbers, it might not even be a word. And even if it is, it doesn’t have to be English, it could be any number-”
“Well, if you keep rambling like that, you’re bound to come across the word eventually,” Liv huffed at the waterfall of words that fell from her friends lips.
“No need to get snarky with me,” Helen retorted pointedly and shot her a look that immediately made the med-tech regret her words.
“I’m sorry, I’m just… annoyed,” she mumbled contritely. She hadn’t meant to snipe. She was simply on edge with the realisation that she might be stuck to her best friend for some time. That wasn’t an issue in itself, it was the fact that they were close due to circumstances rather than choice. There was part of Liv that feared Helen would quickly get fed up with her.
“Yes, I’m not really enjoying this either,” Helen gave back, raising their cuffed hands demonstratively but added more mildly: “No offence.”
“None taken,” Liv gave a small smile, vowing to do her best to approach the situation as coolly and calmly as she could, despite her best friend’s inevitable proximity. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she considered. She often sought excuses to be close to her, perhaps it would be best to simply enjoy it…
“So… passwords?” The linguist prompted, clearly hoping she would have some different ideas to her.
“Let’s see what we can come up with,” Liv agreed with a nod.
---
Hours passed and they got no further to a solution. After long deliberation they had made for the library in search of some dictionaries. The Doctor popped in on occasion, bringing increasingly more ludicrous tools to try and free them, but to no avail.
Now Helen was pinching her brow and squeezing her eyes shut in obvious discomfort. She was leaning over a dictionary and Liv looked up from the one she had in front of her.
“I need a drink, I’m parched,” the linguist announced, casting a glance over to her. “Can we go to the kitchen?”
“Sure, not like we can’t walk and talk…” Liv nodded in agreement and finished the page of words so she wouldn’t lose her place - none of which had any effect whatsoever.
“We’re never going to find the right password…” Helen grumbled and stood up, waiting for her friend to do the same as it wasn’t like either one of them could go anywhere without the other.
“Not with that attitude,” the med-tech interjected, determined to keep their spirits up.
“Liv, we spent the last two hours reading out dictionaries simultaneously, I have a terrible headache and my voice is going,” the linguist sighed, defeated as they walked out of the library. “I hope the Doctor is having some success with whatever he is planning.”
“Right, let’s not get discouraged. Let’s make a cup of tea, have some food, have a perfectly normal conversation that doesn’t consist of a string of words beginning with the letter A and then start over okay?” Liv tried to encourage her and allowed herself to grasp her hand. Their fingers kept brushing together as they walked and it was the most natural thing to take them and offer her encouragement. She was relieved to find her friend not resisting the gesture, though she did sigh:
“I just want some quiet, to be honest…”
“Are you telling me to shut up?” The med-tech feigned outrage.
“I’d better not fall out with you, not that we’re handcuffed together, had I?” Helen gave back with a chuckle.
“Better not. Cruel and unusual punishment, this,” Liv hummed as the kitchen came into view up ahead.
“It is, rather, I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this…” the linguist teased.
“What YOU’ve done to deserve it?” Liv gaped, acting offended, and she gave her friend a tug. Helen yelped, stumbling, and when she caught herself, she stopped dead in her tracks, pulling her hand back in retribution. The med-tech hadn’t expected it and, falling over her own feet, she crashed right into her best friend. The linguist caught her with a grin, as they descended into fits of laughter.
“Tea?” Helen asked, nodding towards the kitchen.
“Yes please,” Liv agreed.
Getting to the kitchen had been the easy bit, getting the tea from the cupboard was quite another.
“Oi! Careful, I’m not as tall as you!” Liv protested when Helen stretched to reach for the upper shelf and the med-tech was unwillingly pulled along.
“I need the use of both of my hands,” the linguist retorted as there were a vast number of teas to sort through and move aside. She did, however, abandon the task and allow her friend a reprieve. “This is going to become awkward, isn’t it?” She observed as she watched Liv shaking out her aching, cuffed hand that had taken the strain.
“Let me do it, you stand behind me, just gonna be easier that way,” Liv suggested as she considered the logistics. Helen would be able to reach over her even if the thought brought a pink flush to her cheeks. Quickly she turned to the cupboard to hide her face, and it was a good thing too as she blushed more deeply the moment Helen pressed her body against hers and they reached up together.
“Look at us becoming a brilliant team,” the linguist hummed behind her as she pulled the right tea tin forward and Liv grasped it and brought it down.
“As if we weren’t already,” she retorted, trying to brush over the effect her friend’s proximity had on her. And it did have an effect. She found her heart racing, she found her chest tightening, she found she wished Helen would push her to the kitchen side for an entirely different reason than just to retrieve tea. “You know, if they turn out to be River’s, I’m going to kill her,” she groaned as Helen mercifully stepped away as much as she could and started preparing the tea.
“The Doctor will sort it out eventually. Besides, I would argue that there are worse things than having to stick together for a while,” the linguist gave her a compassionate smile as she put the kettle on to boil.
“I suppose,” Liv had to concede, still torn between wanting to enjoy her closeness and feeling tense because of it.
“I mean, you could be handcuffed to the Doctor,” Helen smirked to drive the point home and the med-tech didn’t take kindly to it.
“DON’T EVEN-”
—
Several more hours passed and Liv was good and ready to fall asleep over her dictionary. It was almost a relief when Helen finally gave up the ghost as well.
“Liv, I’m knackered,” she stated and buried her face in the one hand available to her. The other lay on the table alongside Liv’s between them. “My concentration is shot, we’ve been at this for like… eight hours now…” She cast a glance towards the grandfather clock at the far end of the library.
“I know…” the med-tech retorted, rubbing her eyes as well.
“Nothing the Doctor has tried works…” the linguist went on and again she nodded:
“I know…”
“And we’ve read our way through three different dictionaries now…” Helen rambled which Liv was very much aware of. Her throat was dry and her voice rough.
“I know…” She mumbled in response.
“You know it could be a combination of words as well… doesn’t have to be just the one word…” the linguist went off on yet another tangent. “It could literally be anything.”
“I know…” the med-tech sighed, closing the dictionary she had been pouring over, defeated. There was no point, clearly.
“Are you just going to keep saying ‘I know’ until I finally shut up?” Helen’s voice turned amused and Liv couldn’t help it.
“I know,” she grinned and earned herself a slap on her upper arm. They shared a moment of playful laughter but only until the futility of their quest became apparent again.
“What are we going to do?” Helen asked, seemingly at a loss.
“We’re going to get some sleep,” Liv stated as she was done fighting the inevitable. They would have to rest at some point, there was no way around it. It was, of course, the thing she had been dreading. Everything else, despite the awkwardness of it, had been manageable, once they had recognised the necessity of it. Sleeping in the same bed, however, presented a whole different challenge. The med-tech decided to simply accept it and be done with it, as they had previously with bathroom breaks. Most things were manageable through respectfully turned backs and idle chatter. “I’ve had it, I can’t concentrate anymore either.”
“But-” Helen launched a weak protest and for a moment, Liv wondered if she had similar qualms as her. She didn’t want to make her uncomfortable but there was only so much they could do with the situation they found themselves in.
“What are we really going to accomplish? Like you’ve pointed out, we will never find the password like this. Either the Doctor comes through for us or we have to get a hold of River somehow,” the med-tech laid things out for her.
“The latter might be more likely at this point. Every idea he comes back with is worse than the last…” Helen huffed.
“And he takes longer in between suggestions so I think we’ll be safe for a good few hours before he’s back with something new,” Liv chuckled. “How about it? My place or yours?” She stood and offered her hand to her with a smile, hoping her playfulness would cover up her nerves.
“Whichever is closer,” the linguist yawned but took her hand as she got up as well.
“Here we are,” Liv held the door open for her friend as it was her bedroom they found first.
“We should have stopped off to grab me some PJs…” Helen sighed and the med-tech chuckled:
“And how were you going to get changed when you can’t pull the shirt over your arm?”
“Gosh, I’m too tired to think…” the linguist laughed and rubbed her tired eyes.
“But if you want to get out of your jeans at least, you can have something of mine,” Liv then suggested, though more insecurely.
“Okay, yeah, that would be great…” Helen nodded and they made their way over to the med-tech’s wardrobe. It didn’t take her long until she had found two suitable pairs of pyjama bottoms. “You go first… getting changed and I’ll just turn…” the linguist suggested with a grateful smile as she took the shorts offered.
“Alright…” Liv nodded. Again, she did her best to simply ignore the racing of her heart as Helen turned away, giving her as much privacy as she could. Not wanting to keep her waiting, the med-tech made quick work of getting changed and afforded her friend the same courtesy.
The next challenge came soon enough as they stood side by side in front of Liv’s bed.
“Right uh… which side of the bed do you want to sleep on?” The med-tech thought it appropriate to give her friend the choice.
“Entirely depends on whether you want to sleep on your back or your front…” the linguist replied, looking to her questioningly. There were a lot of unspoken questions in her eyes and Liv wasn’t sure what to make of them so she cleared her throat and made a decision:
“Back? So… I’m left and you’re right?” She asked and received a tentative nod.
“Okay…” she agreed, though she seemed quite reluctant as they climbed onto the bed together and settled down.
“Helen… are you okay?” Liv felt the need to ask. She didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. She was dead set on keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself, there was no way she would make an already tense situation worse, but she had to know what was going on with her friend to be sure she was alright.
“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The linguist answered, almost too quickly so the med-tech tried to reassure her with some honestly:
“It’s just… it’s okay to get freaked out when you suddenly have no personal space and- while I know we’re close friends, that doesn’t mean that you’d want to spend every moment of the day with me and I get that…”
“Liv, I’m okay,” Helen gave her a soft and genuine smile and Liv realised that maybe she had overreacted. “Are you?” Came the prompt response.
“Me? Of course! You know me, I’m always okay, I-” she stuttered, when the linguist took her hand to emphasise her question.
“Liv,” Helen gave her a doubtful smile.
“Yes?” The med-tech didn’t look at her, she looked at the ceiling and considered that she ought to turn the light off, perhaps it would put an end to the conversation.
“What’s wrong?” The linguist asked and sounded more serious that time.
“Nothing,” Liv lied and it was no wonder how best friend caught on immediately.
“Don’t lie. You’re a terrible liar,” she pointed out and rolled onto her side to be able to look at her properly. Liv, for her part, tried to ignore her eyes on her, she kept staring at the ceiling but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of this without something of an explanation.
“It’s just strange… being so close to you…” she offered up, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her. Surely, she would be able to relate. Surely, she wouldn’t be entirely comfortable either.
“In a- in a bad way?” There is a hint of insecurity in her voice and it wasn’t the response Liv had expected. Her head flew around with an instant need to reassure her.
“Oh no, not at all, that’s not what- I just… worry…”
“About what?” Helen frowned and Liv couldn’t blame her, her words made very little sense without context. So she offered a more honest explanation:
“About making you uncomfortable…”
“Liv, you’re my best friend,” the linguist’s expression softened.
“Exactly, and I don’t want to risk that,” Liv gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance but couldn’t bring herself to look at her.
”Why would you be risking anything?” Helen continued to be confused and Liv closed her eyes, dreading the things that waited to be said. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and to wake up to the Doctor having found a solution. She didn’t want to risk bringing up the things that kept her awake at night and yet, she felt she had no other choice. She couldn’t lie to her best friend.
“I- I like being close to you like this… more than I should,” she stated quietly and closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable hammer to fall. All that happened, however, was continued confusion on the linguist’s part.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned and Liv huffed, frustrated, as she cursed River to high heaven.
“Nevermind,” she groaned and threw the duvet aside. This wouldn’t work, she knew it. She had thought she could handle the exceptional circumstances, view them as just that, but she seemed to have overestimated herself.
“Liv?” Helen was dragged upright when Liv attempted to get up. “What are you-”
“I’m gonna take a saw to this, I don’t care, I-” the med-tech felt her flight instinct set in. A sense of panic at the catastrophic situation came over her and all she wanted to do was get away.
“LIV!” Helen exclaimed and pulled her back with surprising strength. Liv gasped in shock and tumbled back onto the bed, right into Helen.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled when she realised how stupid she had been for trying to walk away. Now, she was finding herself incredibly close to her friend who dropped back into the covers, seemingly satisfied that she wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. She pulled her cuffed hand above her head and Liv was dragged forward, half on top of her. Her breath caught as she pushed herself up on her hand that rested beside Helen’s head.
“Looks like you can’t just walk away without an explanation,” the linguist grinned, amused. “So what did you mean by-”
Liv interrupted her and not in the way she had planned or expected. The urge simply became too great. She was right on top of Helen, their faces centimetres apart and there was no other reasonable thing to do, other than to kiss her.
“Oh gosh I’m so sorry, I-” Liv pulled back quickly when she realised what she was doing. She tried to get up once more but Helen simply grabbed on to her hand and held her there.
“Liv, you can’t go anywhere…” She informed her softly and her voice sounded a little breathless though her tone was impossible to interpret.
“I’m so sorry, I knew if I- If I couldn’t be away from you even just for a time, eventually I’d-” Liv stuttered apologetically, she didn’t look at her, she simply clambered off of her and perched on her knees beside her. “Please can we just forget that that happened? Can we put it down to extraordinary circumstances and just-”
“Is that really what you want?” Helen’s response came and sounded surprisingly insecure. It gave Liv pause and reason to look up.
“What do you mean?” She asked, confused.
“Wouldn’t you rather… do you think maybe we could do that again?” Helen blushed visibly as she uttered the words. They didn’t come to her naturally either, it seemed but she pushed herself up to a sitting position and searched her friend’s eyes for a moment.
Liv didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t grasp a clear thought but her feelings on the matter must have been quite obvious in her expression as Helen leaned up and kissed her once more.
“Wow, okay…” the med-tech breathed, stunned. Her eyes were wide, her heart raced and her lips tingled.
”If that’s… If that’s something you’d want…” Helen asked tentatively and there was a hopeful quality to her voice.
“Very much so,” Liv confirmed at last and felt like a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. She took advantage of her newfound ease. She surged forward and pushed Helen back into the sheets, settling comfortably on top of her with her hands in her hair. She kissed her soundly and Helen responded eagerly in kind.
“Why didn’t you- You could have said something before now; I didn’t-” the linguist questioned as they broke for air.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested…” the med-tech answered shyly. “Given, you know…” she gestured vaguely at the many obstacles she had considered in their way, like the time her best friend was from. “I didn’t want to take the risk and ruin our friendship…” That was the be-all and end-all of it. She had been scared of losing what they had. Even if it hadn’t been everything she had wished for, she wouldn’t have contented herself with it.
And then, Helen said something she had neither expected nor was she prepared for it:
“I love you, Liv. I have for such a long time and I never thought-” she spoke softly but the effect was lost when, suddenly, the cuff around her wrist unlocked.
“Oh my GOD!” Liv exclaimed and sat up, she pulled her hand to herself and the handcuffs came with it but left Helen’s hand behind.
“What?” The linguist was too wrapped up in their confessionals to pay attention but Liv was quick to fill her in.
“The handcuffs, they unlocked!!” She dangled the offending item off her wrist.
“What was it that-” Helen still hadn’t quite caught up yet but Liv understood and she was furious.
“Oh River, you bloody-” she growled but focused her attention on the linguist who was far more deserving of it. “I love you too, Helen. I fell in love with you the moment we met.” It was the truth and with that, the handcuffs opened around her wrist as well.
“River knew!” Helen realised, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“Thank her for this?” The linguist interrupted gently and reached up to cup Liv’s face and draw her attention. Liv immediately melted into her touch, realising there were far greater concerns than the trouble she would cause for the archaeologist.
“Hm… I guess…” she conceded and looked down to her, grasping the situation at last that she was straddling the woman of her dreams in bed with expressed permission to make out with her. A grin spread across her face. “Well, now that we know what the password is, it could come in handy!” She held the handcuffs aloft for emphasis.
“LIV!” Helen exclaimed, flushing scarlet red. “Perhaps we can start out a little slower than that?”
“Maybe…” Liv grinned and captured her lips in a kiss as she tossed the handcuffs off the bed, to be used at the later date.
