An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Honestly, this wasn’t the original plan. I blame others for the brainworm that led to this, but it happened.
It probably isn’t particularly great. I haven’t done lots of writing lately, so this was getting back into it. And I just could not think of a real title.
I didn’t go back and edit. That’ll happen later. So I apologize if it’s choppy or there are grammar/spelling issues. I tried to catch them, but I also knew that, if I didn’t post it, I was going to put it off and just…not. (Yay anxiety brain, am I right?)
I never really liked Callen's response when Densi's relationship was finally outed. Instead of being happy for them he just said, don't pretend like you didn't know the risks. Way to be supportive Callen. Could you maybe write a fanfic where he apologizes to Deeks, but also assures everyone is happy for Densi.
A/N: Hi anon, I might not have gone as hard on Callen as you might have liked. I hope this is ok though.
***
Mixed Reactions
Kensi left before Deeks, deciding to go to her apartment and order takeout for both of them. He’d had one more report to submit, which took longer than usual as he thought over everything that happened. From getting spied on during their morning workout, to Hetty telling them to separate for the day, to her final big reveal that he had an open IA investigation against him.
While he was packing up, Callen walked in, texting one handed. He paused when he saw Deeks, then continued on to his own desk.
“You’re here late,” he commented.
“One of my monthly LAPD reports was due,” Deeks explained. He straightened a few items on his desk, the antithesis of Kensi’s trinket covered space, leaving just a cup of pens, a file holder, and his nameplate. He could sense Callen across the room, watching him, and wondered if he was about to get a lecture.
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure we were good,” Callen said eventually.
“When are we not good?” Deeks responded with a tight smile. Today had been long and stressful, and for once, he did not feel up for chitchat. He closed his laptop, sliding it into his messenger bag.
“I mean, after what we talked about today. You and Kensi.”
“Oh, I think you made your position on our relationship stunningly clear.” He answered flippantly, not wanting to show how much Callen’s lack of faith in him and Kensi bothered him. He’d expected it to a point. Having it confirmed though wasn’t what he wanted.
“Ok, maybe what I said came out a little more harshly than I intended,” Callen admitted, and Deeks snorted.
“No, “don’t pretend you didn’t know the risks” is definitely a ringing endorsement,” Deeks said wryly, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he turned to face Callen finally. “You don’t approve of us dating. It’s ok. We expected it, which is why we attempted to keep it under wraps.”
“And that obviously worked out well for you,” Callen said with his usual dry sarcasm.
“Are we done here? Because it’s late, and I’m tired, and Kensi’s waiting for me.”
“Deeks, wait.” Callen touched Deeks’ forearm, keeping him from brushing past. Deeks waited expectantly while Callen shifted uncomfortably. “Look, you know I’m not great when it comes to this stuff.”
“Clearly,” Deeks agreed.
“Just listen for a second. From the perspective of your team leader and coworker, yes, I’m not the biggest fan. The two of you dating is definitely gonna make things more difficult. It’s just the nature of crossing that line,” he explained himself, hesitating. Deeks raised an eyebrow, waiting for the part that didn’t sound like further criticism. “But as your friend, I’m also happy for you. After everything you’ve gone through and overcome in the last couple years, you deserve this. I’m sorry that my initial response wasn’t better.”
“Oh. That’s, uh, that’s surprisingly supportive and kind,” Deeks said with some surprise. He pursed his lips, feeling a little awkward now. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Callen smirked, breaking the moment. “I will wholeheartedly deny it though if you even think of telling Sam I said it.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Good.” Callen extended his hand to Deeks, and after a moment, he took it squeezing firmly. “Have a nice night, Deeks.”
“You too, Callen.”
Callen look over his shoulder on the way out. “Oh, and I might keep the PDAs to a minimum if you don’t want Granger to shoot you.”
“Got it,” Deeks said, shaking his head as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Oddly enough, he felt just a little bit better.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
here we go again :)
I have been doing tons of writing over the holidays and I’m excited to start putting my latest fic onto a schedule. If you’re into a touch of politics, domestic bliss, curses and cursebreaking, come take a spin. This will be a multi-chapter longfic.
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Pianist!Draco and Investigator!Harry
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: Months after Harry is promoted to Head of Magical Law Enforcement, tragedy strikes. Cursed, Harry flees to the States. And he's doing fine; really, he's having a grand ol' time hiding from the world, drinking himself into a stupor and losing himself in west Manhattan. Then, he stumbles into a lounge bar.
OR
Draco plays the piano, and Harry learns how to heal. Elements of political intrigue, dark magic, and curses.
Vlad shows his face, queue a lot of snark and an exasperated Flynn.
Danny turns to the lab stairway, “I’ll get it”, glancing at everyone as he starts heading up, “I’ll holler if it’s Vladdie!”. His dad gives an excited double thumbs up.
Sticking his head around the kitchen entryway into the living room confirms that it is indeed Vlad, in his pompous ass suit and now staring at him looking extremely supremely unimpressed. Danny snickers at him before walking into the living room proper, sticking his hands in his pockets, “sup, vampy. Come to see your brat? He’s twenty-four by the way so don’t bother trying to groom him into your prime villain protege or anything. Also-”, snicker, “-he doesn’t how to read, so there’s that”.
Vlad glares, “you must be joking”. Making Danny snort, “I fucking wish actually, he doesn’t know what a cellphone is. What twenty-something doesn’t know fucking cellphones? He’s probably never seen a meme before. The horror”. Vlad rolls his eyes as he steps in, “yes, that is certainly the biggest issue with that problem. I’m sure”.
Danny gives a very cheeky, “yup”, before turning his head to shout towards the lab door, “HEY YO FLYNN! IT’S VLADDIE! GET UP AND GREET YOUR POMPOUS-PAPPIE”. Turning to look back to Vlad, who has decided to grace him with a flash of his red ‘scary eyes’. Oh how rare and bless-ed he must be today to get a glimpse of those ruby reds. Note: he was being sarcastic as fuck there, green eyes are way better anyway. So there.
Flynn steps only halfway out from the doorway, leaving half of himself hidden but making his staff absolutely fully visible and just stares at Vlad. It’s actually vaguely creepy.
Vlad stares back.
And Danny just looks rapidly back and forth between them. “Whelp, this is just a touch awkward”.
Flynn huffs and continues staring.
Danny pulls out his phone and waves it around, “these things come with a timer, you know. So I can totally just start that up and you two can make this dick measuring contest genuine”, pointing at both of them, “or we can talk like good little adults”. Flynn glances at him, “shorty”; making Vlad smirk at Danny’s expense. Danny frowns in fake offence, “hey”. But at least that gets Vlad to tug on his suit jacket to straighten it and step forward to actually greet Flynn, so hey, it’s something.
Sure Vlad’s form of ‘greeting’ is looking the half of Flynn that he can actually see over and giving a snide, “well at least you’ve got some build on you”. Which Danny rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over, “wow, way to be a dick, frootloop”. Vlad side-eyes him, “I’m still debating your demise”. Danny throws back a very apathetic and unaffected, “mmm okay”. Resulting in him having to dodge a very half-hearted swipe from the man and bounce out of Vlad's easy arm reach, “gotta be quicker on your toes, old man”, smirking, “what? that old age catchin’ up to ya?”, vaguely dancing over to Flynn and grabbing his Minotaur shawl thing, yanking him fully into the kitchen, “and get fully in here you, and face your maker”.
Flynn glares and huffs at him. Expected. Half the sounds the guy makes seem to involve either huffing or grunting. Wonderful sign of some serious lack of socialisation right there. Vlad’s rich asshole circles are going to love him so fucking much. Just like how they love Danny. Once again, note the generous helping of sarcasm he is mentally pilling on there.
Turning to look at Vlad and holding out the photo of alternate Vlad with alternate Maddie, “anyway, proof ‘cause I know you just love that stick that you’ve shoved so far up your ass you might as well be a popsicle”. Vlad leans forward, inspecting, and blinks vaguely disbelievingly. Danny rolls his eyes at the man not touching the photo, “let me guess, this has been in my pocket and is thus too dirty for you to sully your hands with?”. Vlad nods at him quickly with a smug smirk before straightening back up, “though the atrocity that I’m wearing in that deserves to be surrounded by the filth that fills your pockets”.
Flynn blinks, “yah, yer rivals. Tho figured ya’d be evenly matched”, looking to Danny -though Danny’s pretty sure this guy is trying to just play off the whole ‘meeting my dad for the first time in fourteen years and instead of being a dad the guy shit talks my half-brother’- Flynn points at Vlad while speaking at Danny, “ya could end ‘im. Don’ end my pa tho”.
Danny sputters and bends over wheezing while Vlad looks offended, “hear that vampy?!? He’s saying you’re weak!”.
Flynn instantly jumps to his defence, “‘s not that he’s weak. Ya’re jus... excessive”. Making Danny snicker, “can’t argue that”, because yeah Danny knows he’s over-fucking-powered. That’s kinda what happens when you’re the literal King of the entire Realm of the dead and all the ghosts therein. Regardless Danny keeps laughing and slaps his knee repeatedly. Which Vlad scoffs at, “get ahold of yourself, my boy”.
Danny can hear the raised eyebrow in Flynn’s voice, “‘my boy’?”. Danny looks up as Vlad huffs at Flynn, “yes I guess it would be rather rude of me to be calling Daniel that with you here”. Danny snorts, “like you care about rude, Mr. Plots Others Demise Directly In Front Of Their Faces”. Vlad waves a dismissive hand at Danny, “their intellect and worth is beneath me to care. Family has at least earned some level of attention from me. You should know that by now”.
“Still not your son”.
Flynn grunts, “an I am. Ya might be ‘ore stuck up than my ya”, then Flynn smirks and Danny has a feeling the guy is gonna say something that’ll piss Vlad off, “makes sense wit name like Plasmius”. Oh yeah, Vlad’s gonna be mad.
Vlad snaps his angry red eyes on Danny, sounding more than just slightly violently angry, “you told him”. Danny just bends over further and wheezes. Flynn pokes Vlad’s chest aggressively with the tip of his staff, “back back, no fightin’ in food room place”. Danny just wheezes more at that, “Ancients, it’s called a kitchen, man. Oh Zone”. Flynn grunts, glares, and removes his staff from Vlad’s chest to smack Danny over the head with it. “Ow”. Sure that didn’t actually hurt but it’s the point of the matter.
He can hear Flynn’s scowl, while the guy looks back to Vlad, “an ‘sides, I’d know what ya are any way”, gesturing the staff tip around Vlad’s body while Vlad quirks an eyebrow at him, clearly more curious about Flynn than pissed at Danny. “Can sense it ‘round ya an smell it on ya’s clothes. Yain’t all human. ‘Ore human than tha red one wit her suit on tho”.
Danny straightens up and brushes off his pants, snickering, “yeah he knows about Valerie too, surprise knowledge. Did you not notice his glowing green ass eyes?”. Watching Vlad squint and hum at Flynn, who just sits and lets Vlad stare at and analyse his eyes, “hmmm so you can see my ecto-field then?”. Flynn shrugs, “‘ore er less”. Danny chuckles, “you could say that that ‘bout sums it up”. Flynn looks to him and squints, “not addin’ anythin’”. Making Danny facepalm, “it’s another saying, man”. And Vlad actually has to turn to the side and sigh into his hand, it looks like the man is having a very hard time not insulting Flynn repeatedly and in ever-increasingly deeming ways; huh, guess he was willing to actually try to not be a complete and utter dick to his own son. That earns him a few points in the ‘not the definition of evil’ category.
Vlad looks back after a steadying breath, “be that as it may, I’d rather you not divulge my ghostly status to anyone. Flynn was it?”. Flynn squints, “that’s my name, ya”, looking to the side and huffing, though not letting Vlad out of his sights, “an I won’”, looking fully back to Vlad and sighing before just slowly poking the man with a finger. Both Danny and Vlad elect to merely watch and see what this previously non-existent Zone nomad will do next; Danny’s just glad his folks stayed downstairs or this entire meeting would be a bajillion times awkwarder. Danny wouldn’t be able to make such blatant jabs at Vlad, Flynn wouldn’t be able to discuss anyone’s ghostliness, Vlad wouldn’t be able to even be in the ballpark of honest.
Flynn pokes Vlad again, muttering, “yer real”. Alright, okay, the whole ‘here’s your father’ thing might have just hit the guy properly now. Vlad tilts his head ever so slightly, “indeed”; and Danny suddenly feels like he’s intruding on a very personal and private moment or something.
This is too much for Danny. Danny shoots both his arms out to the side and smacks both of the men on the back to smush them together, “ugh! Just hug already goddamnit!”. Both Vlad and Flynn sputter and cough, screwing up their faces; but they immediately separate and effectively turn their backs on each other.
“Don’ do ‘hugs’”.
“Neither do I for that matter”.
Danny practically growls, “oh for fucks sake”, and just telekinetically maneuvers them into forcibly embracing each other: which predictably and obviously gets him a pink ecto-beam straight to the face hard enough to send him crashing out the kitchen window immediately after he cuts it out. Flynn also pelts him with a rock, but that’s not exactly something that would cause Danny any notable kind of damage; though he is kinda curious where the rock came from.
At least they fucking hugged. Mission accomplished.
He can hear Vlad huff, “anyway. Now that Daniel’s finished being his insufferable self, I imagine you rather need legal documents. Since I doubt you exist in the legal system”. Flynn just huffs so Vlad continues, “right then”. Danny can’t help snickering to himself as he lies in a pile of rubble and some bushes when Vlad speaks up again actually sounding ever so slightly befuddled, “it would seem you already do”.
Flynn sounds slightly more befuddled, “what”. So Danny takes that as his queue to crawl back in through the shattered window, “oh yeah, blame Tuck. Dude probably preempted what I would have eventually asked him to do and just did it before I asked him to”, grinning smugly at the two men, “yeah my friends are awesome like that”, looking to Vlad specifically, “sure is nice to have genuine friends, eh Vladdie?”; Vlad points at him with a scowl and shoots a small ecto-beam. Danny doesn’t bother blocking or even moving and just lets himself get knocked back into the rubble/bush.
Flynn blinks, “... Red girl was ‘ight, do ya know tha word ‘dodge’ at all, shorty”. Vlad makes a sound that is almost a laugh.
“Hey”. Flynn shakes his head and Vlad smirks as Danny scramble crawls back in through the window, “I will have you know-”, grunt, “-I took that hit for comical effect”, landing on the floor with a not so graceful ‘oof’ before righting himself to be cross-legged and looking up at the two men, “and if anything is gonna get me hurt then it better be my terrible sense of comedy”.
Vlad rolls his eyes, “at least you know it’s terrible and unpleasant”. Danny points at him, “my name’s a literal pun, of course it’s terrible. Not unpleasant though. Also-”, holding up a finger and grabbing out his phone to quickly scroll through it, “-and yup! Tuck hacked the gov! Man my main man really should scare the government more or at least enough for them to properly put him on a watch list or two, geez”.
Flynn blinks, “ya lost me”, while Danny pockets his phone. Vlad also blinks. Okay wow there are similarities here and it’s kinda freaking Danny just a tiny bit, it’s creepy alright. Vlad shakes his head at Danny, “you can let your tech boy know that for once he has impressed me”. Danny grins slightly manically, whips out his phone, goes to the voice memos app, and holds it up ready to record, “care to repeat that?”, grin never faltering. Vlad sighs into his hand, sounding truly and exaggeratedly pained, “Tucker, you have impressed me”. Danny cheers, “yes!”, quietly to himself while double fist-pumping.
Flynn shakes his head and mutters, “ghosts”. Probably deciding that this behaviour is very befitting of ghosts, which yeah is probably true. Least Flynn just seems amused by it rather than annoyed like Danny’s folks would be. Vlad seems to agree as he sighs and side-eyes Flynn, “at least you seem unbothered by our more... ghostly behaviours, most humans get put-off just enough to make them rather unsuitable for any kind of close relations”.
That gets Danny to inhumanly quickly jump to his feet, startling Flynn enough to get that staff pointed at him as he near shouts excitedly, “did you just admit you can’t make friends!”, pointing animatedly at Vlad, “I’ve spotted character development!”. Vlad just glares at him, which is fair, while Flynn relaxes his stance. Danny sticks his hands back in his pockets and relaxes against the countertop, “anyway, since you’ve apparently given Flynn here your fatherly approval -congrats on the kid by the way, what should I bring to the baby shower?- you gonna stick him as your heir instead me now. Pretty please?”, and gives an overly innocent smile.
Vlad sighs, “I’m going to murder you”, and shakes his head, “you’re the High King, of course not, I’ve certainly got to keep you in my relations somehow”, grinning smugly, “I can certainly have two heirs. I don’t see why not. Try as I might, you know how I am quite a greedy man”. Danny snorts because that’s bullshit, Vlad absolutely doesn’t try to not be greedy; but well... when possession is your Obsession... Danny chuckles, “and try as I might, I just can’t keep that hero complex down. Guess I’ve just gotta keep an eye on your dealings with Flynn here, huh old man?”. After all, when protection is your Obsession...
Flynn promptly smacks both of them with his staff, “Obsession posturin’”. Danny rubs his head and grumbles incoherently. Vlad acts like nothing happened, instead insulting Danny’s behaviour, “well don’t you sound kingly”. Danny flips him off. Vlad looks to Flynn, ignoring Danny entirely, “regardless, you’ll definitely be my heir too. Whether you want to be or not”.
Danny snorts, “I don’t think you need to threaten the guy to be your son, vampy, geez. Would it kill ya to be nice?”. Vlad grins, “yes”; which Danny rolls his eyes at. Flynn huffs and shakes his head, “heir’s some money thing, he’s my pa not money loan”. Danny blinks, surprised the guy knows what a money loan even is. Chuckling, “eh heir’s kinda the best you get from old Vladdie here”, and jabs a thumb at Vlad.
Vlad scowls, “that is because you keep snubbing me and refusing to renounce your fool of a father, Daniel”, side-eyeing Flynn, “Flynn doesn’t seem to have that particular issue”, and then gives Flynn a truly stiff and awkward head pat. Flynn looks like he’s judging him heavily for that, “I’m stayin’ ‘ere. I don’ trust ya”. Danny coughs and laughs while Vlad jerks and looks like he just got stabbed clear through the heart and Core. Ouch Vladdie, looks like someone got snubbed again. Tough luck, try not being evil next time. Or maybe it was the awkward head pat that did it?
All three flinch or jump at Jack’s sudden excited, “yes!”, while popping out from the lab doorway, practically shoving Vlad out of the kitchen, and very quickly side-hugging Flynn who very obviously stiffens and shrinks away from the contact. Oh shit, how long have his folks been there?!? Fuck. His mom also giggles from the doorway and walks in giving Flynn a sweet smile while pulling Jack off him, “as we said, there’s definitely room for you here”. Flynn just nods slightly while slowly relaxing as Maddie pushes Jack out of the room to go clean the spare room upstairs with her. Danny, meanwhile, is busy side-eyeing Vlad as the man borderline flat-out snarls at Jack’s receding form.
Flynn stares at Vlad himself, muttering lowly at Danny, “he hates ‘im. He really really hates ‘im”. Danny sighs and watches the deep violent hatred shining in Vlad’s eyes, “yeah, yeah he really does”, frowning and probably sounding sadder than he really means to, “I wish that wasn’t how things were. Everything would be a lot different”; because really? If Vlad didn’t despise his father, the two only natural halfas in existence would probably get along. Maybe be genuine family or healthy rivals even. Instead of the weird toxic degrading bantering archenemy thing they’ve got going on and have been actively -and mutually, if he’s being honest with himself- fuelling. Maybe, maybe, that mentor/apprentice situation, that Vlad dreamed of and Danny had needed, could have became reality; but that ship has long since past. In Danny’s more introspective and thoughtful moments, he mourned that fact. Part of him hoped Vlad acknowledged and mourned that fact too, instead of just feeling bitter and ripped off. Maybe. Hopefully.
Flynn frowns at him, “yer ghosts an yer humans. Act like it”. Danny blinks at him, “uh, I don’t think you exactly know how humans act. No offence”. Flynn huffs at him, “am one, know ‘nough”.
“Uh, I’m not gonna agree with you on that one”, glaring slightly and whispering, “also, sssshhhh about the ghost shit, man”. Flynn rolls his eyes and promptly catches Danny off-guard, “an I’m keepin’ tha Masters name”. Danny chokes slightly, well damn; Vlad’s gonna get an ego boost from that.
Vlad, having of course heard -damn you ghost ears- snaps his head around and grins triumphantly at Danny then approvingly at Flynn. “Flynn Masters”, grinning smugly at Danny again, “might just have a better ring than Daniel Masters”.
Danny snorts and rolls his eyes, “if you’re trying to make me jealous it ain’t gonna work”, snickering, “but FM, like FM radio”. Now Danny’s wearing the smug look while Vlad glares at him. Danny finger guns at Vlad as he starts walking towards the steps, “now how about I let the Masters caspers not have to be actors due to me being one of the present factors while y’all deal with your family matters”, saluting, “so seeya later gangsters”. Vlad’s left eye twitches, “I will murder you, boy”.
Flynn blinks and looks to Vlad, “he always like this?”. Vlad sighs and nods, “unfortunately”, shaking his head, “he certainly has a taste for puns and word games, I think it’s born from some form of a sadistic side”. Flynn huffs, “dramatic”, huffing again, “an I need a drink aftar all yer ghostin’, pa”, and uncaps his liquor bottle for a swig. Earning raised eyebrows from Vlad and the same lean over sniff that Danny did, “ahh, you’re a fan of alcohol”.
“Make mine own”.
Vlad nods approvingly, “I've dabbled in the art of wine making myself in my spare time”. Flynn offers his drink earning him a quirked eyebrow from Vlad, who of course tries some. Leaving him humming to himself and tapping his chin, “you’ve been at this for a while. You might be a son of mine yet”.
Flynn huffs, “‘ere I thought we ‘ready established that. Yer my pa. Pas that”. They were, in fact, already past that. Vlad just rolls his eyes but pulls a flask out of his pocket and offers it to the guy, “here. Since you’re a Masters, you drink whiskey like a Masters”. And Flynn talking a swig from that is what Danny walks back downstairs to, “so what y’all talking about?”.
Vlad turns to him, “just how you were going to apologise for your years of abuse to me all in the name of brotherly love”.
“That doesn’t sound like me at all”. Danny then blinks at them, with Flynn lowering the flask and shrugging at. Danny throws a slight glare at Vlad, “really? I leave for what? ten minutes? and you start boozing the guy up? Really?”, muttering more so to himself, “I mean sure, Flynn started drinking after ten minutes, or whatever, of meeting me. But still”. Vlad smirks some, “yes, being around you for any prolonged period of time could drive anyone to drink. Why, the first thing I did after meeting you was drink”.
“That’s because dad assaulted your prized football, you going senile on me?”.
Flynn glares at Danny and takes another swig of the whiskey flask, which Vlad looks oddly triumphant over; especially considering Danny just insulted him. Flynn shrugs again and side-eyes Vlad, “eh, mine’s bettar”. Vlad waves him off, “you just don’t have a taste for it yet”, tapping his chin, “though yes, yours is quite good”.
Danny blinks, “did the Vlad Masters just genuinely compliment someone without it being backhanded or a thinly veiled threat? Shocked! Betrayed! Dismayed! The horror!”, tilting his head, wait a fucking minute, “wait, did you drink Flynn’s stuff? You know that’s ectoplasm in there, right?”. Flynn grunts, “well he does now”. Vlad blinks and Danny is detecting just a hint of shock there; Vlad is also clearly eyeing Flynn’s liquor hip bottle with a fair bit more appreciation now. Flynn making a disgusted face kinda cuts off Vlad’s appreciation though and Danny feels like he’s getting a flashback to that time Tucker had to eat all those blood blossoms. “Are you gonna throw up?”.
Vlad scowls, crosses his arms, and sticks his nose up in the air, “of course not, a Masters can handle his liquor”. Danny rolls his eyes while telekinetically moving a trashcan over to Flynn, “I don’t think that’s the problem here”.
Both of them look down as Flynn just kinda sits on the floor, puts his staff to the side, and throws up; at least he aims into the bucket instead of onto the floor. “Congrats Vlad, I think you just poisoned him”. Danny furrows his eyebrows a bit though when Vlad actually holds his hands out, bends down, and pats the guy on the back. Okay... guess Vlad’s being decent... Danny doesn’t actually know what to do with that. Ah the fact that he doesn’t know what to do with Vlad acting like a decent human being is probably actually concerning, come to think of it. So Danny does the logical thing and slaps himself across the face.
Vlad gives Flynn a not awkward head pat this time, “there there, just get it out of your system”, he hums, “I am rather surprised though, two sips isn’t exactly much”.
Danny sighs and taps his chin, “well when you consider the fact that he’s lived off nothing but ectoplasmic fauna and flora, makes sense that his body would kinda have forgotten how to fucking digest human food you stupid nutcase. Geez, for a guy who plays chess you’re not very smart”. Vlad looks back to him and glares slightly, “I’m surprised you know that. Did you actually pay attention in health class for once?“. Danny rolls his eyes at that particular jab, “one of my friends only eats plants and one only eats meat, what do you think happens every time some bull crap happens where they have to break their diets?”.
Regardless Danny sighs some and bends down next to Vlad and Flynn, joining Vlad in the back-patting/rubbing. Snickering at the guy some though because people taking you too seriously or being all nice ‘n shit when you’re throwing your guts up was more embarrassing than helpful, “maybe don’t eat or drink shit without ecto in it, yeah?”.
Flynn grunts, expected, “ßhût üp, ßhørtŷ”. Making Danny and Vlad blink, Vlad grins like an idiot while Danny chuckles, “huh, guess you speak ghost. Though talk about a thick accent there, Ancients”. Vlad shoves Danny head, which Danny let’s knock him over on the ground, “it’s͢ ͘q͟u͘i͜te͞ ͞a̕ ̧useful ̡sk̛i̡l̡l͜,̡ ͜why I̕ thi͡nk he̕’s m͏o͠re f͏l̴u̸e̵nt͠ tha͏n҉ ͜yo̶u, Dan̕i̵eļ”. Danny stays laying on the ground, “I’m̕ ̸a̡ na͏t͠iv̵e spea̡k̷ȩr, so̧ ̛I̕ ͠don̕’̡t͞ ̡th̶ink̷ so”.
Flynn leans back, pushes away the bucket, and puts his arms on his knees, “ÿæ ßtåŷįñ’ thërë¿“. Danny nods with a grin from the floor and gives a thumbs up, earning a head shake from Flynn.
All three snap their heads to the kitchen entranceway as feet pound down the steps and Maddie and Jack come barging in, everyone then looking to the lab door as Jazz pushes it open while dusting off her pants and grumbling, “I so do not envy Danny having to clean that all the time”, pausing and looking up around everyone before zeroing in on three people sitting/laying on the floor, “Flynn! Danny! What happened!”, and runs over while glaring at and obviously blaming Vlad, who stands and readjusts his suit like he’s embarrassed to be caught caring. Well get caught by anyone other than Danny anyway; which makes sense ‘cause Vlad would probably be all caring about Danny if Danny wasn’t, you know, not evil.
Danny rolls over onto his back, looking at Jazz, “guess who can’t stomach human stuff?”, and jabs a thumb towards Flynn while Maddie rushes over and helps Flynn stand. Well okay, Flynn mostly waves off said help and stands up on his own, but still; Flynn also promptly grabs up his staff again. That staff’s probably some kind of comfort item for the guy.
Jack laughs as he comes to stand next to Vlad, “guess we’ll be cooking with a lot more ecto!”. Danny can practically feel malicious intent wafting of Vlad. Flynn grunting, “I’m ‘ine”. Which Maddie looks at him sweetly over and Jazz shakes her head at, “well let’s move into the living room anyway. Then you-”, glaring at Flynn, “-can sit down, and we can all hear what happened to you”. Vlad nods and hums, “yes I would like to know how I acquired a son from another timeline that’s been living nomadically in the Ghost Zone”.
Jack laughs as they all walk into the living room, “yup! Most we know is that some darn ghosty called Misery Vex took you at some point!”. Maddie and Jazz watching Flynn with slight worry as they walk. Danny just eyes Vlad to see if Vlad shows even the slightest amount of recognition regarding this ‘Misery Vex’, he doesn’t -fuck Danny’s luck- but Danny can’t exactly expect the man to know of every ghost ever. Regardless Danny skips over, puts his hands behind his back and sticks his face next to Vlad’s, “guessin’ you don’t know who that is either?”. Vlad scowls, “‘fraid not, but when I find them, and I will, I’m going to make them beg me to end them and then I’m going to find out how good ghost skin is at reupholstering my dining room chairs”.
Danny blinks, “I forgot there was a reason you and Skulker got along. Also, I doubt you have the skill set to be skinning anyone. Also also, I’m amazed you care that much”, and smirks.
“Must you mock me so, boy”.
Danny grins, “well.., how would you like me to mock you? I’ll hear your requests”, shrugging, “sure I might ignore them, but I’ll certainly hear them”. And finally flops to sit down on the love seat, Vlad sitting next to him with scowl. Jazz opts to sit with Maddie and Jack on the couch, while Flynn takes the chair; got to give the loner nomad his personal space after all.
Flynn huffs, “yeah, Vex’s is tha one that pulled me in ta tha Infinite Realm”. Jack doesn’t give him a chance to say more, tilting his head, “is that what ghosts call the Ghost Zone?!?”. Danny and Vlad both quietly sigh into their hands. Flynn squints at the large man, “ya nevar asked ‘em?”.; at least Maddie and Jack have the decency to look sheepish. Flynn squints more, “it’s what it’s called. Propar name”. Danny chuckles and waves Flynn off, “eh, then Zone can be slang”, ‘Zone’ was in fact common slang. Flynn rolls his eyes.
Vlad sighs quietly again, “linguistics aside, was there a reason Vex took you? And I’m just to assume you’re in this timeline purely due to your old one ceasing to exist”. Which Danny mutters, “duh”, at. Everyone ignores him as Flynn shrugs, “don’ know, like I’ve said ‘ready, ain’t stickin’ ‘round half spider creature-”. Danny’s wondering if the guy’s getting tired of explaining that. “-bark armour wasn’ friendly lookin’ eithar”.
Danny eyes Flynn’s bark armour, “guess yours doesn’t make you look all that approachable either”. With Maddie jumping in, “did you get that idea from It?”. Making Flynn blink at her before looking to Danny, “I did say Vex’s a lady, ‘ight?”. Danny nods but Jazz is the one to audibly sigh, drawing Flynn’s attention as she talks, “yes but-”, side-eyeing her parents, “-ghosts don’t get pronouns”.
Maddie rolls her eyes not unkindly, “now honey, we’ve talked about this, ghosts aren’t sentient or complex enough to understand gender and we don’t call plants ‘he’ or ‘she’-”. Danny coughs into his hand, “Sam does, you know”; which goes ignored. Maddie continuing, “-so why would we do so for ghosts? It would be like assigning gender to lightning”. Danny sighs internally, and he bets both Jazz and Vlad do as-well.
Flynn just stares at her for a while before blinking, “moron-”. Danny has the distinct feeling his folks are going to be hearing Flynn calling them ‘morons’ an awful lot. “-they have preferances. Blobs are no gendar, not tha Cored”. Vlad sighs dramatically, “what does gender have to do with my son's abduction”. Danny chuckles to himself faintly, guess Vladdie really grabbed onto the whole ‘I have a son’ thing with absolute confidence. Made sense. Ancients if Danny accepted him then the man probably wouldn’t stop using the word ‘son’ at every possible opportunity for a solid month.
Jack laughs almost awkwardly and scratches his head, “nothing! I guess”. Vlad scowls at him.
Flynn clears his throat, “well she-”. Nice passive-aggressiveness going on there. “-couldn’ ‘xactly follow me aftar I slippin’ inta some rock crag”, grunting, “ghost can’ go through rocks ‘n what not there”. Jack looks like he’s physically restraining himself from peppering Flynn with questions about that. Danny thinks this should be obvious though, since ghosts not being able to phase through ectoplasmic constructs/formations is literally how ghost shields worked. Like, duh.
Vlad just nods with a hum, “so you’ve been on your own since?”; which Flynn nods at. Maddie huffs, “I’m amazed the ghost didn’t chase you down”; Flynn shrugs, clearly not about to claim to understand why himself. Which yeah, abducting a kid through a portal seemed like a lot of effort to put in to just turn around and let the human run away; probably thought that this random human child wouldn’t be able to effectively avoid capture or survive on his own. Well surprise mother fucker! Flynn’s a Fenton -well a Masters too but whatever- being able to handle ghost shit is in his genes.
Danny decides to ask something that’s actually mildly important for him to know, “so bark armour and the lower half of a spider, anything else?”. His mom quirks an eyebrow at him so Danny elaborates/makes up an excuse, “wouldn’t it be good to know what a ghost that may come after him looks like?”. Earning an approving hum from her. Danny’s more interested in Vlad muttering to himself, “an Arachne then”; sweet, he’s got a species now.
Flynn grunts, “purpal skin, lotsa black eyes, bare bark crown-”. Danny almost chokes at that and he’s sure Vlad at least went slightly wide-eyed, because crown implied royalty. Which just great, that meant Danny was going to have to deal with whoever all kingly and shit. “-an clothes were shinebettle, I think-”. So basically shiny latex leather? Alright, that’s a look. “-an wendigo mane pelt ovar spidar half-”. Well that all but confirms Danny’s suspicions that Vex is from or at least frequents the FairLands. The only wendigo’s that didn’t just turn to ectoplasmic ash when destroyed were the faebeast ones. Hooray for having to probably go see Oberon. “-She had a fauchard ta”. Danny nods to himself.
Jack taps his chin, “that still doesn’t explain why though”, earning shrugs all around. Jack grinning, “we should hunt Vex down and find out!”. Which Vlad actually grins at, “yes, you go do that”. Danny kicking the man subtly and whispering, “Vlad no. Bad”, he knows the only reasons Vlad’s encouraging that is ‘cause his folks might torture the ghost and because the ghost might harm/kill Jack.
Maddie shakes her head and chastises Jack, “you’ll be doing no such thing, we don’t know the Zone is actually safe”, glancing at Flynn, “regardless of Flynn’s survival. Flukes happen”. Danny thinks it would make way more sense to guess it's safer than they thought than to just assume Flynn got lucky. But hey! At least he doesn’t have to worry as much that his folks are just going to run wild in the Zone anytime soon.
Vlad rolls his eyes though speaks somewhat sweetly, “dear Maddie, always being the voice of reason”. Maddie grimaces, and Flynn glances between them with a slight frown. Vlad digs in his pocket when his ringer goes off though. Speaking up after reading the screen, “seems some of the underlings are too moronic to deal with some problem alone”, looking up to everyone, “so I must be taking my leave now”, and stands up.
Jack jumping up, “well we can finish up Flynn’s room and he can join us after you’ve said your goodbyes! Wouldn’t want to interrupt that!”, and laughs. Maddie smiling sweetly and following him once again upstairs. Jazz sighs and moves to follow them, “I’ll make sure they didn’t get carried away”; while Danny just stretches and lounges out across the loveseat. Watching Vlad talk down at the still seated Flynn.
“I guess I’ll have to leave dealing with this Misery Vex in your and young Daniel’s hands. I don’t particularly have time to deal with petty ghost squabbles”, side-eyeing Danny, “he’s quite experienced with those though, so I doubt he’ll fail to be an effective meat-shield if needed”.
Flynn rolls his eyes, “I don’ care ta ‘deal with’ her at all. ‘Ine as is”. While Danny snorts at Vlad, “Ancients, you’re such a fucking pissant”.
Earning squinting from Vlad, “I’m the mayor and one of the richest people in the world”, huffing, “and I’m nothing to scoff at power-wise”.
“You are staying that... to the literal king... of death”. Danny smirks, “I’m fucking lucifer, bitch”. Vlad and Flynn blink and stare at him. Danny rubs his neck, “eh, too much?”. They both nod slightly. And there the similarities go being creepy again. Vlad shakes his head slowly, looking back to Flynn, “ignoring that, you can contact me for anything. Particularly if you decide being here isn’t worth the effort or annoyance”, and pats Flynn’s head, “you’ll want for nothing regardless”, making shooing motions at him, “now run along and help your mother and sister stop that imbecile from installing an anti-ghost auto-detection machine gun on your ceiling or some other nonsense”. Danny vaguely hates that his dad might actually do that. Though he’s surprised that Flynn actually does as he’s told with only a mild amount of suspicious squinting. Maybe he’s tired of Vlad’s existence? Doubtful but Danny can hope. Probably more likely the guy just wanted to get closer to being able to have some alone time, and room set up was an effective way to do that.
Danny waits till Flynn disappears upstairs to speak up, “hey Vlad?”. Vlad doesn’t even look back at him, instead just staring up the stairs, “hmmm?”.
“Don’t fuck this up. You know, like you always do”. Danny glares seriously at Vlad as he goes to stand up and Vlad actually looks to him with a quirked eyebrow, “but if you ever hurt him you won’t need to wonder where your god is anymore, because he’s coming for you and he’ll be fresh outta mercy”, squinting, “all these fucks will have flown off, never to return again. And you will be left crippled, withered, dried up and crapped on. At the bottom of a shitty little well where people will throw out their rotten fruit down on you and the remnants of your shitty little life”, glaring more, “we clear”. Vlad nods a bit stiffly; after all, when the king orders something or warns you, you fucking listen. Danny decides to really hammer it home though, “the fucking heat death of the universe will not be able to even approach the level of damage that the amount of fucks I will no longer give will cause you. What I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind tearing out a length of your intestines, rolling it in a pan, sprinkling on some nice cinnamon and maybe some raisins. You know, for texture and a little added surprise. Then sliding it right into the oven for a nice little cinnamon bun”, chuckling meanly, “there’s even some icing pre-made in the fridge. So I’m all ready to go, bitch. Then I could use your hollowed-out torso to ride you like a meat toboggan. I’m sure your fucking intestines could be utilised as perfectly fine ropes to control my descent down the bloody snow-covered hill all the way into the depths of madness that you were birthed from years ago”.
“Daniel... you’ve made your point”, Vlad actually sounds slightly disturbed. Danny rolls his eyes and puts his hand in his pockets, “yeah well, so long as you don’t go making god sacrificing his only son look like a good parenting technique”.
“I... won’t”.
Danny pats Vlad on the arm, “good talk then”, and finger guns before heading upstairs, “and I’m still not your fam, frootloop”. Vlad just scowls at him and leaves, closing the door slightly louder than necessary. Return to normalcy achieved.
The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - The Elf Lad and Watching (3/?)
Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.
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Read here or on Ao3. (1366 words)
Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)
-
Hildraed was finally standing at her long awaited goal. She was standing. And staring. Mouth hanging open and eyes wide she was staring into the main plaza. Her head was empty, entirely filled with the sight before her eyes.
Finally, after what felt like at least three turns of the wheel, there was one word that her mouth formed.
“Fuck.”
She was tempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, but she feared the stench of rotting flesh would finally knock her out. But what did she deserve really? How could she have dared to hope for a better situation. At least in Readceras they didn’t hang people from the trees, they just left them to starve.
“I take it you’re a new settler.” Oh fuck no, the land could be as cheap as it wanted to be, she was not staying here. A moment passed and Hildraed noticed that someone had to have asked the question. She turned around and immediately regretted it. Staring at her was a small, slimy looking man with an official looking broach on his cloak. His stare told her exactly what he was thinking of her, and for a second Hildraed was tempted to just punch him in the face and save herself the trouble of having to listen to him. Unfortunately, she was alone and severely battered, which made her chances of winning such an encounter rather slim.
And so she half heartedly listened to him, tuning him out as much as possible, and only occasionally throwing in a dry remark when he became all too insufferable. And then the bells rang, and with them Hildraed’s head. She was going to kill someone in this miserable dirt hole. Maybe this wretch, maybe the insane fuckhead in his castle, but somebody was going to die by her hand someday.
Glowering at the smug shithead in front of her and only barely managing to convince herself to not push him into the pit, she stomped over to the inn. First sleeping, then killing someone, then drinking herself under the table and hopefully erasing the last few day from her mind. In that order.
But before she could even enter the inn, the next trouble found her. Well then, maybe one of these people would be the dead ones. Probably the nervous, elvish money-bag over there. While she didn’t hold quite as much of a grudge against every single aedyran who ever lived as these… fine gentlemen seemed to, she certainly held no love for them, and the fact that this particular one very obviously came from the upper classes didn’t do him any favours either.
“Ay, you’re itchin’ for the kindeling touch o’ your sister!”
For a second Hildraed blinked. And then she laughed. Loudly and hideously she howled, head thrown back with absolute glee. Well then, maybe not this one perhaps. It took her a while to gasp for air again, and by this point the villagers were staring at her with suspicion. Still grinning she wiped a tear from her eye, not at all caring about their looks. The source of her hilarity however was starting to look seriously frightened as he stammered out excuses, so maybe it was time to stop them from lynching him.
“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” She could kill them. A part of her wanted to, but that little bit of fun had dredged up some of her good will.
“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Well, perhaps not then. Hildraed’s mood soured again as the men squared up. Of course not. The following brawl was short but brutal. Even in her battered state Hildraed was a force to be reckoned with, and with well aimed hits she took down one after the other. She didn’t care if their necks broke in the process, if they were lucky they’d get up again in the morning, if not, well that wasn’t her problem. The last man went down, and left was only the now intimated looking elf with an unused grimoire in his hand.
“Well… Thank you for that.” An exhausted snort was his answer, and Hildraed spat some blood on the ground before glancing up to him again. She was pretty sure one eye was shifting a bit too much left…
“You’re welcome.”
“Are- are you alright?” This was not even worthy of a snort.
“Do I look like it?”
“N-no?”
“No, that’s right lad.” Blinking heavily Hildraed dragged one hand over face, the back of it coming away stained with dirt and blood. She scowled, before immediately wincing with regret as her head gave a painful pulse. A strand of her hung into her eyes, and she grabbed scowling some more through the pain. Her brown her was somehow both fatty and dry, hanging listlessly and grimy from her head in thick strands. Oh how she already missed the salty breeze of the ocean… Why had she ever agreed to come here? Surely she could have taken care of all the fuckers who wanted to see her hang, it couldn’t possibly have been worse than this.
Upon glancing up again she found the elf looking at her with concern and a half open mouth. Oh, maybe he’d been talking. Ups.
“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not caring whether he followed or not, Hildread passed him by towards the inn on by now wobbling steps. Why couldn’t the land feel as nice as the sea? Although, her current problems probably had more to do with the agony spreading through her feet than missing land legs.
A loud curse ripped from her mouth as her shoulder painfully bumped into the doorframe from her unsteady walk, the urge to kick it as well only reined in by her not obeying muscles. Suddenly there was a slender hand on her elbow pulling her away from the wall and into the building. The elf had indeed followed her, and was now helping her stumble along the way in the inn, staring forward with visible concern and just as obviously already questioning his decision to follow and touch the scary, dirty, bloody, scarred and cussing woman who had just possibly killed three men.
A drunken grin spread over Hildraed’s face as her energy drained even faster. At least the boy had guts enough to know who to follow, even if he had a too big trap for his own good. And with that grimoire of his he might actually be useful later.
The next sensation she felt was a rough mattress under her cheek and her eyes shifting back from their apparently once again cross-eyed position. Dimly she knew that the elf boy must have dragged her all the way into a bedroom, but her muscles certainly didn’t care, as they finally relaxed a bit, still aching but at least not also attempting to hold her up anymore. With relieved sigh her eyes shut, and with vengeance she shoved all the shit from the last few days away to just sleep.
Alas, as she would soon find out, there is no sleep for the watcher.
So, here’s another part of this story, no clue how many more (at least a few?). More Foxes appear! Yay!
Uhm, lots of bantering, very mild violence, some swearing, think that’s about it? Oh, and obvious some dubious life choices/actions here.
*******
*******
“I mean, can you believe it?” Neil asked as he tugged on his bangs while seated on a stack of new tires in the middle of Matt’s garage while his friend worked on the Ferrari. “He keeps cackling about the damn postcards and ticket revenue and… and he’s insane!”
“Uhm, you know that those are your genes, right?” Matt’s deep voice drifted out from underneath the sports car, followed by a yelp when Neil gave his right calf a kick. “Hey! Not funny,” he complained as he scooted out from beneath the car, frowning face smeared with grease in a couple of spots and ridiculous hair covered by a bright orange bandana (also smeared with grease).
“Huh, I was thinking much the same thing,” Neil muttered as he glared at his friend. “You’re supposed to be commiserating with me, not insulting me!”
“Okay.” Matt took a deep breath as he sat up on the floor dolly thing and dabbed at the mess on his left cheek. “You’re upset that Stuart isn’t selling one of his fakes for once? I don’t get it.”
“He’s basically parading around a fake in front of thousands of people!” Neil hissed as he waved his arms about, upset that Matt wasn’t following. “What if they realize it’s not the real thing?”
“But Stuart’s really good at what he does,” Matt argued as he looked about for something.
“He’s a forger and a thief.”
“Says the guy who showed up earlier with a stolen Ferrari – I don’t think you have the strongest argument here, Red.” When Neil’s glare went up a notch, Matt held up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, not throwing any stones, but you can toss me the rachet wrench near your left foot – you know, the thing that makes the ‘rrrrch, rrrch’ sound when you turn it?”
“I know what a rachet wrench is by now,” Neil mumbled as he picked up the thing and tossed it (lightly) at his friend. “And I stole the damn car because I’ll most likely need the money for when Stuart and I flee the country in a rush sometime within the next week – which I shouldn’t have to explain myself to the person who’s currently modifying it so it can be sold to some crime lord with an ego problem.”
“Victor’s a decent guy for a crime lord, and I don’t want to hear any bitching from a Hatford,” Matt threw back at him. “’Oooh, look who’s slumming right now’,” he called out in a high-pitched voice as his head waggled from side to side. “’Let me break out the tea and crumpets and lots of sharp knives’.”
“You’re an ass,” Neil laughed as he got up to tug the bandanna down his friend’s face, as well as to muss up his gravity-defying hair; it was then that Dan, Matt’s girlfriend, walked in on them.
“What did I tell you?” she called out as Matt wrapped his damn gorilla arms around Neil’s hips. “If you’re finally going to make a move on the boy, wait until I’m here to join in.”
“Eh?” Neil blinked at that odd statement while Matt laughed and, after giving him a smack on the ass, pushed him away so he could stand up and go give Dan a kiss – carefully, since she was dressed for a ‘day’ of work, in a fitted pant suit that hid the holstered gun and various knives on her person, as befitted her job as a well-regarded bodyguard. “How was work?”
“Horrible. I was half-tempted to shoot the whiny bastard myself, no wonder his company’s paying people to keep him alive.” Dan rolled her eyes as she unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the white shirt beneath it (and the leather straps of her holster). “Just had to keep focusing on the paycheck.”
“That’s what I love about you, always thinking ahead,” Matt said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Should get a nice cut from this latest job, too. Then you can take a break from assholes for a while and work on your charity cases.”
“Yeah, Renee’s already got a couple names lined up for me.” A pleased smile lit up Dan’s face, wiping away the exhaustion and bitterness from before and highlighting a beauty she rarely enhanced with makeup. “Can’t wait for a nice vacation from the bastards.”
“Well, you do live with Matt,” Neil teased, and laughed when the tall freak attempted to kick back at him.
“Such a troublemaker,” Dan remarked as she came over to tousle his hair. “And did you bring this in? I thought you were more into cons with Allison and some B&E these days, not back to stealing cars.”
“He’s convinced that Stuart’s finally done something stupid enough to bring the police down on them,” Matt explained as he sat down on the dolly. “I’m not gonna complain since I get to work on this beauty, earn some money and get in Victor’s good books.”
At Dan’s curious look, Neil sighed. “He got it in his head to allow our copy, the fake copy, of the Cellini Venus to go on display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.”
“What?” Dan’s dark eyes went wide and she ran her hands over her dark brown, short curls in a sign of frustration. “There was a lot of activity around the museum today, them preparing for a big event that the asshole complained about having to miss because of some other commitment.”
“Yeah, they’re having a party tonight to kick off the collection, something like that.” Neil returned to the stack of tires and pulled his right knee to his chest as he thought about the whole mess. “Usually Stuart’s sensible about things,” he thought about that statement and sighed, “somewhat sensible, but all he’s babbling about now is postcards and cuts and other nonsense. I’m ready to throttle him.”
“Sorry, sweetie.” Dan gave a gentle stroke to his hair. “If you need to crash anywhere, you know you can stay with us.”
“Thanks.” He grimaced a little as he thought about the whole mess. “I hope he gets whatever this is out of his system without us getting into too much trouble. It’s gonna suck if we have to avoid Paris from now on.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Dan assured him. “You always tend to think the worst, too.”
Maybe because he was used to things going pear-shaped on him? Though to be honest, usually his family or his friends came through for him in the end. “Yeah, well, I remember a few close calls like the Saini con-“
“Aw, but some people would give almost anything to spend half a night trapped beneath a desk with Allison!” Matt declared from beneath the Ferrari.
“-or the Friedrich incident,” Neil finished with a scowl.
“I still don’t know how you and Renee managed to hide all those knives on your bodies and not rattle when you walked,” Dan confessed with a wince.
“We were just grateful that you did,” Matt called out.
“Well, is it too much to hope that this exhibition will end without me being stuck in a small space or knives being involved?” Neil asked as he stared at Dan with a hopeful look, only to feel the emotion die when she gazed back with pity. “Fuck.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but knowing your uncle and your luck? Get out the whetstone and be thankful you’re not claustrophobic.”
“Fuck,” Neil repeated as he reconsidered his stance on not drinking.
*******
Andrew fought the urge to tug at his bowtie for the eighth time that night and reminded himself that in another twenty-three minutes he could leave the boring as hell party; at that point, he’d already gathered enough information on how the place’s security worked, especially around a crowd.
He wasn’t that impressed with the Kleber-Lafayette Museum. Then again, he wasn’t impressed with much in life.
He ignored the interested look some woman dressed in a sparkling gold cocktail dress gave him as he snatched a glass of passible champagne from a tray full of them, and noted the unimpressed one he received from another young woman wearing an expensive as fuck Dior gown which had just been on the runway a week ago. It took his brain a moment to supply a name – Allison Reynolds, disowned heiress but still rich bitch extraordinaire, determined to live by her own rules and somehow able to get by in society despite that fact. Andrew raised his glass to her and was surprised when she arched an elegant eyebrow and raised her own in return.
After another lap of the main room (and another careful survey of the party’s attendees), Andrew stopped at his partner’s side; Kevin had undone his tie, but it had been a bit of a rough night once his old ‘friend’ had shown up. Andrew noted that there was a glass of water in Kevin’s scarred left hand and not alcohol, which meant that his friend had recovered from the shock. “Five more minutes.”
Kevin’s handsome face twisted with annoyance. “Some people enjoy being surrounded by works of art,” he said, voice rich with reproach. “The Kleber-Lafayette has quite the collection of-“
“Don’t care,” Andrew sang out as he rocked back and forth on his toes. “Seen one splattering of pastels, seen ‘em all.”
As he’d counted on, Kevin’s face grew flushed with anger. “You’re a disgrace to the profession,” he gritted out as he pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his right hand.
“No I’m not, I’m the best at what I do,” Andrew reminded his partner. “And three minutes, now.”
Instead of arguing, Kevin merely shook his head and finished his water, then set the empty glass aside on the nearby small table before motioning for them to leave (one minute early, such a reprieve). They were quiet as they escaped from the boring party, at least until they reached the Jaguar F-type Andrew was renting during their stay in Paris.
He removed the jacket to his tux and the damn tie before he slid behind wheel, relieved to be done acting ‘proper’ for the night. “It’s not the worse job we’ve had, but it’s not the best, either. They seem to have somewhat paid attention to us when we gave them the security review.”
“Somewhat,” Kevin muttered as he jerked his left hand through his hair. “When are they going to learn that it’s better to spend the money on everything we recommend? Whining about extra lasers doesn’t matter if someone walks off with a Monet and their insurance fees skyrocket as a result.”
“Not our fault if they don’t listen to us,” Andrew reminded him. “Speaking about artwork, I’m going to be busy tonight.” When Kevin glanced at him, he gave a shrug as he fished out his pack of cigarettes from the center console. “Something’s bothering me about that Venus statue.”
“The Cellini one?”
“Yeah.” Andrew frowned as he lit the cigarette. “I don’t like how Josten just so happens to find all these amazing pieces of artwork, which end up in private collections and so avoid any real tests.”
“But he signed the papers which allow the statue to be tested for insurance purposes,” Kevin reminded him.
“Hmm.” It would be a big scandal if the statue was found out to be fake, though, so Andrew would rather know sooner rather than later and warn the museum if there was going to be a scandal (and earn a bonus as a result). “I wonder if he knows that, considering all the documents he signed. Anyway, we’re here, he’s here, I want to take a look at his house since I’ve always been suspicious about his collection.”
“You’re suspicious about everyone,” Kevin muttered as he slumped down in the passenger seat. “I still remember what you did to the poor woman whose job it was to clean your hotel room in Barcelona.”
“Because she didn’t obey the ‘do not disturb’ sign, and don’t change the subject,” Andrew argued. “Was I right about Zhang?” He waited for his partner to nod. “What about Bambey? Riopert? Zimmerman? Abe? I can go on all night.”
“Whatever, just don’t get caught, the French police aren’t happy with you after the whole Devine case,” Kevin just had to remind him.
“Yes, but I was right about that one, too,” Andrew said as he flicked ash out the window. It was quiet in the car as he drove them back to the hotel for a couple of minutes. “So what did the bastard say to you, hmm?” He’d seen Moriyama talk to Kevin from across the room, but the bastard had moved on before he could reach his friend’s side.
“Just… a snide comment or two about me ‘slumming’, that of course I was only there for work and about me tending to a mess someone made as if I was the cleaning staff,” Kevin admitted as his jaw tightened in anger. “Enough to remind me of how much I hate him.”
Nothing new, in other words; Riko Moriyama was still the spoiled, sociopathic bastard he’d always been, but Kevin had moved on enough to no longer let him tear him down. “He’s nothing without his uncle’s name and money. Not even his own brother wants anything to do with him.”
“Yeah.” Being reminded of Riko’s many issues always made Kevin happy. “Oh, he seemed obsessed with the Cellini, now that I remember. Kept staring at it and asking the museum staff about it.”
Something to keep in mind in case Riko proved to be trouble, which usually was the case. “Probably saw a new shiny he wants.”
“Yeah.” As if not wanting to talk about the bastard any longer (understandable), Kevin changed the subject to a couple of potential clients he’d met during the evening, whom he planned to follow up with during the next several days. Andrew grunted in agreement since it would keep the man busy – that and Kevin always did better at that sort of thing than him.
Once back at the hotel, they went their separate ways; Andrew imagined that Kevin would call it a night since he’d be up early in the morning to hit the workout room, while he changed into a more suitable outfit for sneaking about and double-checked the address he had for one Stuart Josten. Then it was back out for some ‘fun’.
*******
Neil was in bed attempting to read a book which Renee had lent him on ‘living kindly’ (she tried, she really did, but somehow he doubted that he’d manage a similar conversion like hers) when an alert on his phone went off to inform him that someone had tripped a silent alarm he’d installed near one of the house’s windows. For a moment he debated calling Davis, who was out with Stuart at that awful party, to come back and take care of the problem, but it had been very frustrating couple of days so he figured why not deal with things himself and then call the man to clean up the mess? Plan (more or less) in mind, he reached for the gun in the nightstand before he decided on the knife beneath his pillow instead (less noise) then slipped out of bed dressed in a dark grey t-shirt and boxer-briefs. His phone showed that the opened window had been downstairs, so he snuck down the staircase, where there were faint sounds in the main sitting room.
It was dark, but Neil’s night vision was good and enough ambient light came through the windows for him to make out a short shape dressed in dark clothes doing something to the new Van Gogh forgery hanging on the one wall. As quietly as he could manage, Neil snuck up behind the thief, and almost was within reach when the man (?) took the painting down and turned around.
Neil had the impression of pale skin and hazel eyes gone wide in surprise before the artwork was dropped and the man (definitely a man) launched himself forward; Neil raised his arms to block and got the knife up as he was knocked onto the floor.
“Mr. Josten, I presume,” the asshole said as Neil struggled to regain his breath from the impact and a heavy asshole laid out on top of him, the knife held back a hair’s breadth from said asshole’s neck.
“Yes, nice to meet you, larcenous asshole,” Neil replied as he tried to close that tiny gap, but said asshole was strong.
“Such harsh words.” Larcenous Asshole’s voice was deep and, judging from his accent, he was an American.
“Well, you did break into my house and try to steal a painting. I’m merely calling a spade a spade.”
Larcenous Asshole clicked his tongue as if annoyed, his gaze never once roaming from Neil’s face despite the knife. “I was only taking one painting. You have so many, chances were good you wouldn’t even have missed it.”
“Right, a priceless piece of art like that, we’d never have noticed.” Neil swore that those almost golden eyes narrowed the slightest bit at his comment. “What was I thinking?”
“Like I said, you have so many,” Larcenous Asshole drawled. “And it’s not as if you’re really going to do anything about it, a rich fop of a boy like you.”
“Well, by that reckoning, I’m sure there’s so many other larcenous assholes out there, who’ll notice if I rid the world of one, hmm?” Neil gave the man his father’s grin as he put a bit more effort into moving his right hand, and was rewarded when the knife touched bare skin.
He was also rewarded by seeing another flash of surprise on the otherwise impassive face above him as Larcenous Asshole jerked back away from the knife; Neil used the distraction to bring up his right knee to land a blow which at least hit the man in the very upper thigh if not in the intended target and so gave him enough room to wiggle free.
Both of them scrambled onto their feet, Larcenous Asshole with a bit less grace and a lot of wincing, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when his ‘guest’ pulled a knife of his own. “Aw, is playtime over?”
Larcenous Asshole scowled at him, the look slight but definitely there (Neil was used to people giving him dirty looks). “You cut me and tried to knee me in the balls. What type of society fop are you?” he demanded to know as he fingered where the knife had (barely) cut into his neck.
“A society fop who knows how to defend himself and his home. What type of Larcenous Asshole are you if you can’t take a little abuse, hmm?” Neil asked as he fought the urge to flip the knife (well, flip or throw, one of the two – wait, L.A. was standing on the 16th century Persian, so go with ‘flip’ until the bastard moved somewhere better for bloodstains).
“I break into spoiled rich people’s homes, I don’t expect much of a struggle. Also, bleeding,” L.A hissed through clenched teeth.
“You say that as if it’s my problem. Well, actually, take a few steps to the right just in case I cut a little deeper than I thought, won’t you? That rug is priceless.” Neil made a shooing motion with his left hand.
“You are fucked up, which is saying something coming from me,” L.A. declared as he risked a glance at the blood on his fingertips. “Also, I’m thinking that you’re not going to call the cops or else you’d be on the phone already, and I’m not sure you want me dead despite the lovely threats otherwise. So are we going to flirt all night or is there a point to this?”
Dammit… he may be an asshole, but the guy wasn’t stupid; Neil couldn’t call the cops, not when the house was filled with forgeries, and he was hesitant to kill him outright when he wasn’t sure if the man belonged to a syndicate which might cause the Hatfords trouble in the future – there was something about L.A which made Neil think he wasn’t an amateur off the streets. Torn over what to do, Neil eyed him up and down a couple of times before he sighed.
“I’m not flirting,” he insisted, and when L.A. opened his mouth, flipped the knife into a throwing position. “Now, this can either end up in your eye or I can put it away, which do you prefer?”
L.A. gave him a narrow look for a couple of seconds before he huffed. “Away,” he said, deep voice tinged with something that might be respect as he waited for Neil to lower his weapon before he did the same. “Spare a band-aid before I leave?”
Neil considered the question for a moment before he motioned the thief to follow him to the kitchen. “Come on, can’t have you walking around all bloody and raise suspicion.” He wouldn’t risk the police noticing the man and then have them knocking on his door once the story about their little ‘adventure’ got out.
L.A. walked beside him (over an arm’s length away), careful attention paid to his surroundings on the way to the kitchen; he kept glancing at the various artworks on the wall as if making note of them, and then at the various items in the kitchen. Neil remained focused on the thief in return as he went to the one cupboard which stored the smaller medical kit, which he placed on the table (still out of arm’s reach). “There. I imagine an asshole like you is used to patching himself up after people try to kill him.”
The man’s eyes narrowed again, the only sign that the jab might have struck home. “Can we keep personalities out of this conversation? I think maybe you wouldn’t care to have yours brought up.”
“What? I’m an angel, ask my friends,” Neil announced as he tapped his knife on top of the table.
“Are you friends homicidal, too?” L.A. scoffed.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, no dead bodies around here. At least, not yet. Let me know if you’re willing to change that before I waste any bandages on you, hmm.” Neil motioned to the kit.
Now the look turned contemplative before L.A. pulled the kit toward him. “Sorry, don’t plan on dying tonight. Bad enough I won’t have a nice painting to fence as it is.”
“You can always try the Dhedins’ down the street, I hear they’ve an amazing collection of Degas.” Neil offered a version of his Uncle Will’s smile as he propped up his chin on his left hand.
“How thoughtful of you,” L.A. replied in a rather dry manner which belied his words while he opened the kit and took to poking around in it. “I think I’ll call it a night after nearly having my throat slit.”
“Quitter.”
The thief grunted as he tore open a disinfectant wipe then dabbed at the cut on his throat, which barely bled anymore. “I can honestly say that this night didn’t go as I thought it would.”
“I guess that tends to happen when you’re a Larcenous Asshole.”
“Andrew.”
“Hmm? No, I’m Neil.” Had the man hit his head at some point during their struggle? Was he on drugs? Usually Neil was good at spotting those things.
L.A. sighed as he used another wipe to clean up the blood. “My name is ‘Andrew’. I’m tired of you calling me that.”
“Why, it’s what you are. You steal things and you’re an asshole, hence Larcenous Asshole. If you want, I can call you ‘Kleptomaniacal Bastard’ instead.” Neil put up with being called a ‘smart-ass’ and ‘British demon’ and ‘spawn of hell’ all the time – it was ‘sweetie’ and ‘cutie-pie’ that got on his nerves, but he liked Dan and Allison and the others so he didn’t say anything.
That and knowing his friends, they’d come up with something worse.
For some reason, L.A. looked to be in pain even though he’d already put a bandage on his neck. “I’m beginning to wish I’d let you stab me.”
“Not here in the kitchen, these tiles are from the 18th century.” Neil shrugged when L.A. took to gazing at him as if he was insane. “What, I’m not going to sit through yet another lecture from my uncle about respecting antiques.” Not after he’d used the one Damascus blade to help Davis deal with an intruder who thought to make a name for himself taking out a Hatford.
L.A. muttered something about lunatics while he ran his gloved hands over the black cap covering his head, which dislodged it enough to reveal short blond hair. “All right, I’ve reached my limit of insanity for the night. Consider me suitably punished and that I’m now reconsidering my wicked ways.”
“Somehow I doubt it.”
Neil was given a flat look as L.A. rose to his feet (he was pleased to note that the thief was shorter than him, a rare thing to discover, though he possessed a much stockier build). “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?”
That comment earned the bastard a rude gesture.
Neil followed L.A. back to the main room, where the man picked up a small leather bag filled with the tools he’d used to circumvent the alarm on the window (but not the one he’d missed on the lower wall) and whatever else he needed on the job. “Any problem with me going out the front door?”
“No, I’m sure it’ll be a novel experience for you,” Neil said as he pulled the door open. “Be sure to savor it.”
That time he was the one given a rude gesture.
“The Dhedins’ house is the white one with the black columns and the black and gold fence,” he called out as L.A. stomped through the door. “Be sure to pet the mastiffs for me, they love getting their ears rubbed.”
He was given the finger again. Huh, after he was nice enough to warn about the puppies, too.
Some people, you just couldn’t please them.
*******
Andrew groaned when he heard the barrage of knocking on his hotel door; at first he attempted to ignore it, except it refused to stop. Throwing the sheets aside, he stomped to the door and, after undoing the various locks, yanked it open to glare at his partner. “I have no qualms about killing you, Day,” he growled.
“Not enough sharp objects here to do it justice,” Kevin said without fear as he stepped inside; only the fact that he shoved a waxed paper bag bearing the name of the nearby bakery saved him, lack of enough sharp objects or not. “After all these years, you want to savor my death.”
There was some truth to that statement; Andrew had known Kevin for several years, ever since his first year in university, which he and his brother had only gotten into thanks to a ‘charity’ scholarship program run by Kevin’s father. It had been at the end of the first semester when Kevin had shown up on the man’s doorstep, broken and bloody due to what Riko Moriyama had done to him.
Andrew hadn’t been able to get rid of the pest since then.
“So, did you find out anything about Josten’s… what the hell?” Now that Kevin had opened the drapes and turned to face Andrew, he caught sight of the bandage on his throat. “What happened?”
“One Neil Josten,” Andrew explained as he fetched a caffeine drink out of the room’s fridge to go along with his chocolate croissant. “Let me tell you, those tabloid stories about Stuart’s nephew being some shy, meek kid who doesn’t like public outings? I wanna know just how stupid those morons are who wrote them, because there was nothing shy or awkward about that ‘kid’ last night.” Or much of a ‘kid’ at all, either.
“Wait, his nephew was home? I thought the house was supposed to be empty.” Kevin sank down on the bed when Andrew shook his head before having about half of the can of sugary coffee. “Shit, how did you get out of there? Are you in trouble?”
“Funny story, that.” Andrew’s flat tone made it obvious that it wasn’t funny at all. “Josten surprised me before I could do more than a preliminary check on one of the paintings, him and a nice, shiny knife.” Kevin’s eyes widened at that, probably as much about the weapon as for the fact that someone had snuck up on Andrew. “We had a bit of a pissing contest, but it became clear that he wasn’t going to call the cops so we backed off before it went too far. He thinks I’m a thief, but he let me go.” Andrew gave Kevin an intent look after that statement. “I might not have gotten any hard proof last night, but tell me, why would he have done that unless he didn’t want the cops to check out his place, hmm?”
“That… is rather suspicious. But I’m more concerned over the fact that he tried to cut your throat.”
Andrew waved that aside then tossed a piece of croissant into his mouth. “Tried, but didn’t.” A lot of people had tried to take Andrew down, but very few interested him as much as Josten did. No, there was something about the nonchalant way the young man had handled an intruder, had coped with the violence and been able to throw about quips at the same time, the mix of violence and intelligence and ‘go ahead, just try to fuck with me’ attitude that Josten radiated….
“While you’re out doing some work, find out about Josten for me,” he told Kevin.
“And what are you going to be doing?” Kevin asked as he stood up, already dressed for a day of impressing (bs’ing) people despite it not even being noon.
“Looking into his uncle and some other things.”
For a moment, it appeared as if Kevin wanted to ask if Riko was one of those ‘other things’ before he seemed to think better of it; he knew that Andrew wouldn’t let the prick fuck with him anymore. While Andrew doubted that Riko was in Paris because of them, he still would make sure that the man stayed as far away from Kevin as possible.
“Just make sure your work involves more than checking out new bakeries,” Kevin chided as he headed for the door. “Oh, and try to get some exercise for once. I’m going to tell Betsy and Aaron if I find out you spent the day holed up in some café with your laptop.”
Andrew gave him the finger before he shoved the rest of the croissant into his mouth.
*******
First part can be found here
Also, I think I’ll be posting one of the owed ‘you guessed right’ fics later tonight, too....
Hello guys! Decided to pick things up here as we are closing in on Episode Ignis (unfortunately? Fortunately? I’m not sure which).
Chapter 4 - Hunger. In which Ignis and Callie meal prep, get sassy in the kitchen together, and Ignis starts to have a crisis.
No warnings currently apply, SFW at this time.
[Previous Chapter] [AO3] (might have helped to have this the first time. I was tired. lol
Tagging @hypaalicious and @gudetamazing
At home, Callie was freaking out. Her apartment was in complete disarray, the stresses of training life not affording her much energy with which to clean. Something about Ignis screamed "neat-freak" and thus, she decided she should take the time to pick up before six o'clock. At further inspection, it would be a larger job than she initially thought.
Glancing at the clock, Callie noted that she had about three hours to get things situated before her visitor arrived. Surely that would be enough time...
The piles of dirty laundry strewn about the room laughed mockingly. Garbage from hastily eaten TV dinners and bags from fast food cackled. Perhaps she really did need to get more sleep, but the message was clear: it would be tight. Time to get to work.
Callie liked the apartment they had stationed her in. It wasn’t too big, which pleased her, as she was alone. The living room, dining room and kitchen were one large space, making it feel bigger than it was. Callie lamented her lack of cooking skills due to how upscale the kitchen was with its sparkly black countertops and fancy faucet. Oh well. Perhaps she could learn some day. Hell, if she and Ignis remained friends, maybe she could beg him to teach her.
Crownsguard initiate life left her with a large conundrum: even for a small apartment, her schedule left her with very little time to do anything beyond fall into bed each day. There were days that the exhaustion had been so great, she didn’t even eat before falling onto her couch fully clothed, finding herself deep in slumber within mere moments. Habits such as those led to her already trim physique to become borderline skeletal, a fact that Ignis apparently took great offense to, henceforth landing her in the position she was.
As such, she briefly stopped cleaning to put on an upbeat playlist on her phone for motivation before returning to flitting room to room, never tarrying long. The thought came to mind that she should likely stick to one area at a time, however, the nervous energy witnin her demanded movement. Life as a hunter had been singularly lonely, leaving her precious few she would deem a friend. She worried that Ignis would find her accommodations lackluster.
What a funny thing to worry about, she chided herself. Friends don’t suddenly stop being friends over your housing situation. Yet, the worry remained, spurring her to clean faster.
With the restroom and living areas immaculate, Callie checked the clock and was startled to find it glaring 5:53 back at her. Ignis was nothing if not punctual, and the kitchen (the most important room for their planned activity, no less) was still not up to par. Rubbing her hand over her face in irritation, she cursed her lack of focus.
Six o'clock on the dot and there was a knock on her door. A mere few pieces of trash remained.
“Just a moment!” Callie called out. She took a detour at the trash bin before turning down the music and making for the door.
When she reached to open it, she lamented not taking a shower instead of simply changing her clothes. It was too late to go back; she swung open the door with a smile.
She was briefly stunned into silence at the sight of the great tactician in the closest thing to casual clothing the suspected he ever wore: a simple white button up tucked into black slacks, sleeves rolled and cuffed at the elbows. A grocery bag adorned his right arm, the muscles flexing to compensate for the weight. Callie stared a moment longer than necessary, watching as Ignis gave her a self-conscious smile, prompting her to finally greet her guest.
“Ah, hi! Welcome!” she hailed, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter with a sweep of her right arm. “Please, come in!”
“Good evening, Callie,” he answered, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “It’s been ages.”
At that, Callie loosed a hearty laugh. She shut the door as he entered the living space, turning to face him with her hands planted on her hips.
“Years, Ignis,” she mock complained. “How could you? Not even a letter. Six save us.”
The pair laughed freely, during which Callie noted Ignis’ easy mirth. Though it was true that she bared her soul to him over her family and ambitions, he had always been reserved, humor always on the wry side. Seeing him laugh prior to that moment was a true rarity.
Ignis took a cursory glance about the space before making a beeline for the kitchen. He hefted the bag on the counter with the most counter space and that time, Holly tried her test to not be as obvious in her observation of his rippling muscle. It simply wasn’t polite to ogle a guest who had so graciously come to her home to assist her in getting her nutrition back on track.
Again, Ignis smiled and she suddenly became aware of why he held so many titles; absolutely nothing escaped his sharp gaze. Sighing, she attempted to conceal her blush by rubbing her eyes, (mostly) feigning exhaustion.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” she asked, moving to join him in the kitchen.
Though well-finished, the kitchen was petite, barely allowing space for the two of them to be present simultaneously. Callie approached from behind, leaning around Ignis' left shoulder, steadying herself with her right hand at his waist and left at his bicep that she could peer into the sack of groceries. His muscles contracted under her touch, a gentle gasp passed his lips and she drew back slightly, eyes apologetic.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” she laughed.
Ignis silently thanked the Astrals she assumed it was fear he felt. In truth, her touch set his body aflame, and he simply hadn’t been prepared for his extreme reaction. He was aware of his attraction to her, a bright pyre burning ever-present in the back of his mind, refusing to be dampened. Try though he may to be vigilant, the char was licking at him, threatening to rend all to ash.
"No worries," he answered as casually as possible. "I thought we might start simple: daggerquill breast and garulessa steak with saxham rice and vegetables. You can prepare a large quantity and store it in the containers I've brought and simply heat up a serving when you arrive home. If you’d like, I brought enough for us to enjoy together this evening, but I shan’t impose if you'd like to dine alone."
Callie rather enjoyed the implications behind "start,” and the offer to enjoy a meal together.
"That... sounds amazing, actually. Of course, you’re welcome to stay. You’re going to all this trouble for me. Let me grab a notebook so that I can write all this down."
Ignis chuckled as he retrieved a small notebook from his breast pocket and opened it to the first page. "No need. I've taken the liberty of starting a recipe book for you. It has a few to start that shouldn't be too difficult, even considering your current level of skill."
"That's so sweet of you, thank you!" Callie gushed, gripping his arm and smiling happily up at him. "Wow, I never realized how tall you are. Then again, everyone's tall to me. I think I'm all of five-foot-two."
The strategist paused in his task of laying out the required ingredients, throwing his coiffed head back in a hearty laugh. "You are rather, ah, dainty for someone bearing the name Mortifera."
They laughed easily for a few more moments before Ignis looked curiously around the space.
"I'll need a large baking sheet and quite a few spices. Do you have them readily available?"
The raven-haired woman chewed her bottom lip and squinted her eye in thought. She glanced quickly at the list of spices needed. "The baking sheet, yes. The spices, absolutely not. I don't even know what some of these are. If you need salt and pepper, I have you covered."
She couldn't help but laugh at the cringe Ignis gave at her confession.
"I suppose it's a good thing I had the foresight to purchase the requisite spices," he groused. "I do wonder how you've managed to feed yourself before now."
"Hey, now," she fired back, poking him in the chest with her index finger. "Frozen meals and takeout are perfectly acceptable-"
"Astrals, Callie, do not finish that sentence," Ingis interrupted, nose wrinkling. "Please hand me the baking sheet."
As Callie turned to the wall behind Ignis, she attempted to recall the cabinet housing the baking sheet. The upper cabinets were too small… she bypassed the stove, eventually finding them in her large lower cabinet near the corner. When she turned to hand him her prize, they bumped into each other.
“Sorry!” Callie grunted as they collided. “The perils of a narrow galley kitchen!”
Ignis blushing was a strange sight, indeed. Though Callie had witnessed it a handful of times, it somehow never normalized for her; he oozed confidence in the training room and when discussing matters pertaining to Lucis. To have him then stumble when presented with social interactions was an interesting juxtaposition.
“Quite alright,” he breathed, his hands straying on hers a moment when he retrieved the sheet from her. It was then she noticed he still wore his gloves.
“Why don’t you take those off?” she asked, tugging at his index finger for emphasis. She paused before laughing raucously. “I’d make a joke about pulling fingers but I can see you’re a distinguished gentleman.”
Withdrawing his hand, Ignis smirked at her before turning to set the baking tray next to the vegetables and meats that were to be placed upon it.
“A distinguished gentleman that often travels with Gladio, Prompto and Noct,” he said, reaching for a blade to chop the vegetables with. “I assure you, I’ve likely heard the very same joke countless times. I may have laughed at it a time or two as well. The world may never know. Now, let’s get these vegetables chopped.”
“Just a man, after all,” Callie laughed. She retrieved the knife from Ignis and began chopping them. “Big, small, does it matter? Also, I see you deftly ignored my suggestion to remove your gloves. I promise I don’t have any diseases.”
“To your preference,” he clarified.
In truth, he was avoiding removing his gloves for a handful of reasons. There was no need; he frequently crafted meals with them on. They offered a certain level of protection should his constantly buzzing mind lapse in judgment and by that point, his hands were ultra sensitive from being encased in leather more often than not. Most importantly, Callie's touch was already overwhelming, so why push things further?
The woman in question glanced sideways at him while she chopped, watching as he regarded the cuts of meat they’d be using for the evening, questions hanging silently between them. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he paused his prep and began removing his gloves.
“Wow, so they do come off,” Callie jested, setting aside her knife as she finished her vegetables. “There goes my theory of you being an android.”
“Indeed,” the strategist agreed, giving her a wry smile. “I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t a vampire, yet. Are you ready to tackle the protein?”
“Touché. I am ready, master chef.”
As they worked to season the cuts and get them onto the baking sheets with the vegetables, Ignis preferred to guide that Callie could pick up the techniques required to prepare meals in the future. From his vantage point at her side, he was able to watch her mannerisms: how she stuck her tongue between her right teeth and bit down when she was concentrating, how she raised her right eyebrow and deadpanned when things didn’t go her way. It was, in a word, adorable, and he found himself smiling through it all.
“Look, rice is easy. I can handle that part,” Callie proclaimed once the meat and vegetables were in the oven. “You can go sit, if you like?”
Ignis nodded. “I’ll be but a moment, if you’re sure.”
He took a few moments in the restroom to reign himself in, washing what felt like every single cell on his hands and splashing some cool water on his face. Dealing with dignitaries was one thing: it was his duty and therefore, easy for him to separate himself from anxiety to do what was needed. During council, he had no time for anxiety, nor were any particular social skills needed. In the presence of someone he felt a connection outside of brotherhood with, he felt awkward and bumbling. It was a singularly uncomfortable sensation.
It was time to leave the restroom, lest his host become suspicious. As he turned the handle, the sound of muttered curses reached Ignis' ears, followed by a peculiar smell. His feet carried him automatically back to the kitchen, eyebrows drawn together in concern.
The sight that greeted him stop Ignis in his tracks, a dumbfounded expression painting his face. Callie was frantically trying to stop the pot of rice from boiling over, waving her arms wildly at it as if it would have any stopping power. She was cursing under her breath, but the tactician could just hear her…
“Gods damn it all, and I just told him I could manage… fucking hell, stop, stop, stop!”
It didn’t stop.
The scene was too much to witness, causing Ignis to loose a great guffaw, pitching forward to brace himself on his knees as he laughed. Callie whirled around in a panic, meeting his laughing form with steely eyes.
“Laugh it up, Scientia!” she drawled. “When you’re finished, help me tame the monster that I’ve created, will you? Damn it!”
As the laughter subsided, Ignis sidled over, pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger and clapped a hand on Callie's shoulder. “I’ll handle this.”
All in all, when the pair sat down at Callie’s black dining table just big enough for two, the meal was delicious. Ignis had managed to salvage the rice and both the meat and vegetables were baked to perfection.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me,” Callie said, smiling.
“It's nothing, truly,” Ignis dismissed, embarrassed. “I, ah, it is my duty to assure that... those in direct service to the king are in top form.”
Callie's quicksilver eyes twinkled, but if she saw through his bluff, she chose not to voice it. When it came to dinner, however, she sang a different tune.
“Six, my compliments to the chef,” Callie all but moaned. “How do you make something so simple taste so good?”
Though Ignis flushed at her tone, he grinned all the same at the praise. “Proper preparation and seasoning. It’s something that will come in time until you won’t need the recipe book at all… unless it’s to concoct your own.”
When Callie didn’t answer right away, he noticed how slowly her eyes were blinking, how her jaw seemed to give a great effort in chewing. Exhausted though she clearly was, Ignis couldn’t help but briefly admire her beauty.
“Mortifera,” he scolded. Her eyes slid to meet his, her lack of protest at her given name telling. “If you needed to rest, you should have said so. Ready yourself for sleep; I shall place these in containers for you and tidy up.”
Fire lit in her eyes then, albeit a dull spark compared to its usual roar. “Ignis, no! I can’t allow you to clean my apartment. Look, I’m enjoying your company but… yeah, I guess I’m tired. I’ll clean up. You can go ahead and go. Thank you again for coming today.”
She turned and took their plates to the kitchen and began cleaning up when a hand landed gently on her shoulder. Callie looked up to see the royal adviser looking fondly down at her, a serene smile adorning his handsome face.
“Please,” he said simply. “I insist.”
That she trudged off without complaint was a victory. However, many minutes later she hadn’t returned or made a sound, prompting Ignis to investigate.
“Callie?” he called, knocking on the door she disappeared behind. “Are you alright?”
No answer came. After a minute, he knocked again.
“Callie? Astrals, I hope you’re decent. I’m going to open the door a touch to make certain you’re alright,” he warned. When no answer came again, he turned the handle and pushed.
He briefly took in the room: a large window opposite where he entered in the small room that housed a bed and a single dresser with naught else. Two doors in the room lead to presumably a closet and perhaps an en suite restroom. Minimalistic, like Callie. Speaking of, his eyes cast around, searching for her.
The sight that met his worried emerald gaze was an endearing one. Callie lay face-down on her bed, still clad in her day clothes. Her feet dangled off the edge of the mattress, her mouth open and snoring softly.
“Goodness,” he breathed.
Contemplating a moment, he decided she looked rather uncomfortable and moved to tuck her in. As he swung her legs around and nestled her head properly on her pillow, he tried not to notice how smooth her muscles were, how he enjoyed being in such close proximity with her. When she was settled, he drew the comforter around her and clicked off her bedside lamp. The moonlight streamed in through the window, highlighting her raven strands platinum, her pale skin ethereal, glowing.
As he turned to leave, a gentle smile touching his lips, he paused. Unable to resist her siren's call, Ignis returned to her side and pressed the softest of kisses to her forehead. He hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttered shut until her hand grazed his cheek, causing them to fly open. Ignis panicked, but it was simply Callie reaching out in her sleep.
“So handsome,” she whispered. Her long fingers traced his lips before her hand dropped back to her side and she resumed snoring.
It was then Ignis decided to take his leave. Gathering his things, he turned off the lights as he went. Finally, he locked the door and made for Noct's R8, reaching for a can of Ebony once inside. After the day's events, he needed to unwind and thus set a course for the freeway; a long drive at high speeds never failed to help untangle the threads of his wayward thoughts.
As street lamps streaked past and caffeine rushed through his veins, Ignis considered his position: married to his duty to Noct, no time to dedicate to a potential partner. It wasn't the first time he found himself wanting to pursue a relationship; it appeared his lack of experience with such emotions often led them to overwhelm him rather quickly. This, however, felt different.
He sighed and decided to let things play out as naturally as possible. At some point, as future king, Noct would need to take a bride and Ignis would finally be able to relinquish some of his duties to the future queen. Until then, he would simply have to make do.
Hi Anon! So, since there was not a specific pairing attached to this I just sort of let it go where it liked. Hope you enjoy!
323. “Who brought pot brownies to the bake sale?!”
“Wait a minute…”
“What is it?”
Thomas frowned at the dish in frontof him, turning it this way and that as if it held some deep darksecret. James frowned, refocusing his attention from the cash box hewas double checking.
“Thomas, what is it?” he askedwith a sigh.
Thomas brought the dish closer to hisface and then sniffed, recoiling a moment later.
“These…have pot in them,” hesaid after a moment.
“Who the fuck brought pot browniesto the bake sale?” James asked, eyes widening. Thomas just lookedat him, raising an eyebrow and James scowled.
“I’m going to kill that little-”
“Hello, my loves, and how is it?”a voice interrupted and they turned to Max who was looking at themexpectantly.
“Pot,” Thomas said, holding outthe dish of brownies and Max frowned, leaning closer and sniffingthem before nodding.
“I suppose you should put thoseaside, we wouldn’t want to sell them to the other students byaccident,” she said wisely as if she were the oldest of theirgroup, and not one of the youngest.
“When I get my hands on that littleshit,” James muttered, going back to counting the cash before thebake sale actually started.
“What’s he done this time?”another voice asked as Charles appeared from around the corner withan armful of cookie trays, trailed closely by Anne, a large caketaking up most of her arms.
“These brownies have pot in them,”Thomas said, feeling a bit like a broken record.
“Brilliant,” Charles said with agrin. “Save them for later. We can have a party.”
“What a wonderful idea!” Maxchirped and James cast her a weak glare, a plan forming in his headalready.
“No one say anything when he showsup,” James said quickly and they all looked puzzled, then nodded.
The brownies mysteriously vanishedand when Jack showed up later with John Silver, pot baker, in tow,they all kept silent. The bake sale went well, raising enough moneyfor their small boat club for them to take a trip from Oxford toLondon to see the HMS Victory in dry dock the next month. John didn’tseem to notice his brownies had gone missing, or that James casuallyhanded him one or two late in the afternoon, too busy talking toMiranda, who caught James’ eye over John’s shoulder and smirked.Earlier, Thomas had whispered to her what exactly was in theprohibited brownies.
By the time evening rolled around,James had snuck enough brownies to John that he was well on his wayto stoned, eaten a few himself, and even passed a few to Jack underthe table. They’d all had a least one, and then went to the pubafterwards. Somewhere well past midnight the five of them that shareda house, Jack, John, Charles, Thomas, and James, stumbled into theirresidence laughing loudly with Jack and Charles supporting John.
“What did you do with my brownies?”John said suddenly, rounding on James and trying to poke him in thechest. He missed by about eight inches and hit James’ shoulder. Jamessmirked slowly, reminding the others of a deadly shark.
“What do you think?” he askedcasually and John frowned.
“Did you…feed me my own pot lacedchocolate when I wasn’t looking?” he asked, shaking his curls outof his face. The other three laughed while James smirked, crossinghis arms.
“No fair,” John mumbled, swaying.Thomas reached an arm out to steady him and then they were allstumbling into the living room and collapsing on the extra long couchin a tangle. Jack somehow ended up laying across Charles’ lap eventhough there was plenty of room, having a discussion with thin airabout the merits of something to do with Shakespeare. Charles was notpaying any attention. Meanwhile John was sprawled across James andThomas, his feet resting on Jack’s lap. Charles just rolled his eyesand reached for the remote, turning the TV on. He waited until Jackpassed out to carefully slide him off and into the free space on thecouch.
“You stole some too, didn’t you?”John mumbled, looking up at James, only half noticing that James’fingers were in his hair. James blinked, then nodded. Thomassnickered.
“I’ve got more in my room,” heoffered and they all looked at the blond man, eyes wide.
“Fucking get it then,” Charlessaid, sweeping his arm wide and Thomas detangled himself from thecouch to retrieve the contraband.
“Cheeky shit,” John mumbled,turning his face and burying it against James’ stomach.
“Me? You were going to have us sellpot laced brownies to the population at large. You know we could getthrown out of school for that shit,” James said, laughing eventhough it wasn’t funny.
“Didn’t have to get me fucked,”John mumbled and James rolled his eyes, fingers continuing their easymovements as he closed his eyes. He was pleasantly hazy from thebrownies and three pints, but the idea of more pot sounded good. Johnwas warm on his lap and Thomas was warm next to his shoulder when hereturned, lighting a joint and passing it around. Charles rolled hiseyes and went to open the windows, kicking Jack awake when hereturned and passing him the joint. Jack shook his head then grinned,apparently quite refreshed from his five minute nap.
“This is brilliant,” John said,exhaling a large cloud of pungent smoke. “Know what would make itbetter?”
“Sex,” the other four answered inunison. Every time they got high John would wax poetic about sex andpot. They weren’t even sure when and where he’d managed to have suchan experience to wax poetic about, since he was with at least one ofhis roommates at almost all times of the day and never stayed out allnight.
“John, kindly shut the fuck up aboutsex when my girlfriend is on the other side of town,” Charlesgrumbled and the others laughed.
“Or when your ass is currently in myboyfriend’s lap,” James grumbled, tugging on John’s hair.
Thomasjust chuckled, looping an armaround James. John stared up at James and frowned, his face a mask ofconcentration as if he were trying very hard to sort out what hewanted to say inside his head and failing.
“What?”James asked after a minute and John blinked, meeting his eyes.
“Well,”he said slowly, blinking. “My ass may be in your boyfriends lap,but I think your boyfriend’s lap is interested in my ass.”
Jameslooked at Thomas, who shrugged.
“What?Like he doesn’t turn you on?” he said. James stared at him.
“Jack,”Charles said slowly. “I think that’s our cueto get the fuck out of here.”
“Agreed.Cab fare’son me,” Jack nodded and they hightailed it out of the house. Jackglanced back briefly and really wished he hadn’t. They’d have to burnthe couch later, he just knew it.
