Thank u @ambathy for the prompt - Trep/Addie and 'Hands.'
Under the cut, just so it doesn't clog up folk's dashboards!
Addison was not a small man. He wasn't heavy set, but he was broad. He'd been so for as long as he could remember. Square-shaped - with a stern jaw and broad shoulders and a presence that couldn't be missed. Those were all the nice words, anyway - the things people said to compliment and to soften the edge of their words derived from appraising looks Addison had never asked for. His mother, Addison thought, had said it the best - Addison was built like the broad side of a barn.
Maybe that was why he couldn't stop staring, now. His hand - his 'big, strong hand' - was absolutely eclipsed where it laid in the palm of Trep's. Addison watched, intent on his own movements, as he traced his fingers along the Impostor's skin. He looped around the curve of one mountainous finger, lingered over a heavily calloused knuckle as big as his own hand, and slid carefully along the length of a massive and deadly-sharp claw. Addison pressed a finger against the tip of Trep's claw - and the small pinch of pain sent an electric thrill down to his toes.
Trep gave a soft rumble - a noise Addison might have called a purr, if he weren't worried he'd spook Trep right back into his human form. It'd taken more than a little coaxing to get Trep to show Addison his real form - and Addison wasn't interested in letting Trep change back any time soon.
"So small," Trep said, the teasing in his voice obvious, even though it was a distorted rumble as it slipped from his abdominal maw - the only mouth he had, in this form. Trep slipped his hand away from Addison's - and the man nearly complained, until he felt that same hand wrap carefully but securely around his torso. Addison couldn't help but suck in a breath as Trep all at once lifted him.
"We can't all be giant Impostors," Addison answered. Trep's massive form shook with a laugh, even as he held Addison up and slowly began to settle the rest of his body against the ground. A heavy, balancing tail swept around to lie longways against Trep's body, and once the Impostor had laid down fully he tucked Addison close.
"Well, even you can't be perfect, Addison." Even as Addison settled against the cool, nearly reptilian skin of Trep's neck, Trep kept his hand cupped around Addison. It wasn't especially comfortable, sitting on the ground and resting against unyielding skin - but Addison kept his complaints to himself. Instead, he only laughed at Trep's quip, and let out a sigh of content as he relaxed against the Impostor. Idly, Trep scratched a claw against Addison's calf - and the impossibly gentle, careful gesture relaxed Addison even further, until he was nearly asleep then and there, wrapped in a massive, alien hand.
If you're still taking drabble ideas, I'd love to see a role reversal with impostor Addison and crewmate Trep.
So, I'm not sure if you were hoping for fluff - but my mind jumped straight to angst. Thank you for the idea!
Content warning for major and minor character death, depictions of stabbing, and suffocation.
Three left, and Trep couldn't pull his eyes away from Yellow.
Trep wasn't a people person - but Yellow had been one of the more tolerable ones. Quiet and shy, happy to work in silence rather than idle chatter. When Captain Red had been busy, Trep had often found himself partnered up with Yellow. That was why, he supposed, her betrayal stung and surprised. That gentle Yellow could be responsible for the string of quick, quiet, and efficient murders that had stolen the rest of Trep's crewmates - he almost couldn't believe it. It was near impossible to imagine her pulling a silent knife across Pink's throat, or stabbing Purple cleanly through the head, or somehow managing to suffocate both Green and Orange in their beds while the crew slept peacefully only inches away.
Still, Trep imagined it. He believed it. He let his own anger drive him until with a shout he lunged at Yellow and pinned her to the ground, his own knife pressed against her throat. No matter how surprising, it was Yellow - it had to be Yellow, because the only other option was impossible to consider.
"Please, please, it wasn't me," Yellow sobbed as she tried to push Trep away. "Cyan, I swear it wasn't me - please, it must have been Red -"
"How dare you?" Trep asked as he pushed the knife hard enough to make her squeak and go quiet. "Captain Red has done everything in his power to save this crew from you. And in your dying breath, you would dare try to drag his name through the mud?"
"Please," Yellow whimpered.
"Cyan." At the commanding tone, Trep felt himself still. He glanced over his shoulder, one eye still watching Yellow from his periphery. Captain Red was standing, his arms crossed as he looked at the scene before him. Angry - as angry as Trep was, just in the Captain's own subtle way.
"Captain," Trep answered, "it's Yellow…it has to be Yellow. Surely you don't think it's me? I thought we…" He paused to clear his throat. "Well. I thought we got along rather well, you and I."
"Move away from her, Cyan. Now. Or I won't have a choice but to believe it was you all along."
Trep stared at the Captain in disbelief for a long moment - before he finally pushed himself carefully away from Yellow. He got quickly to his feet, knife still gripped tight in his hand in case the woman decided to attack. She didn't, though - she only pulled her knees to her body and shifted further away from them both, tears still streaking down her cheeks.
"Captain, please…I promise it wasn't me. I would never - I can't even use a knife in the kitchen. I drop things all the time. I couldn't have. Please. You have to believe me. Please. Please." Yellow was sobbing again as she babbled, and the sight of it turned Trep's stomach in a windmill of anger. It didn't help when Red walked over to her, crouched in front of her, and reached out with careful, soothing hands.
Trep's breath was quickening as he watched. How could the Captain believe Yellow over him? It was he and Trep who had conversed long into the night. It was Trep who had wrapped Red's wounds when a fit of fury at the situation had driven the man to punch a wall. Still, Red reached to comfort Yellow. Still, he trusted her word over Trep's.
"Capt -" Trep began in an angry huff, but he was interrupted by Red himself.
"It's alright, Yellow. I know it wasn't you," Red said, even as his hand reached around to grasp the back of the woman's head. "For what little it's worth, I'm sorry."
Then, in a movement so quick Trep near missed it, Red drove a sharp-edged tongue straight through the middle of Yellow's head.
Trep could do nothing but stare as the tongue slipped back into Red's too-wide mouth, where it was surrounded by razor-sharp teeth and tentacles that tried to writhe their way free even as Red pressed his lips together. The Captain stood, and Yellow slumped to the ground as he let her go. Then, he turned, and as Trep looked Red in the face - into crystalline, shimmering white eyes - the human slowly brought his knife up.
Red laughed, the sound an echoing rumble that Trep felt all the way to his core.
"You've got guts, Cyan, I'll grant you that," Red taunted as he took a couple of steps forward, "but you'd have to be quite a bit closer to have even the chance of cutting me…and I can reach you all the way over here." He paused where he was and tilted his head.
"I thought we got along rather well," Red mimicked, and Trep felt himself go tense.
"Fuck you," Trep spat, "You…I can't believe you would do this to your own crew. To me. After all those evenings, those talks - and it was you all this time. Fucker."
Trep expected more banter, or maybe that same sharp-laced tongue and a quick end. What he did not expect, however, was for Red to suddenly move - faster than Trep could track, and certainly faster than he could prepare for. There was a crack as he hit the ground, and he couldn't help the dazed groan that escaped him as the world danced in front of his eyes. He couldn't breathe - but he quickly realized that was not because of the fall, but instead because of Red. The Impostor had his arm pressed heavy against Trep's throat. As his body began to scream for air, Trep thrashed and beat at the creature holding him down - but he might as well have been smacking a brick wall.
"I'm sorry," and despite everything, Red sounded genuinely sad, "you really were…something of a special human, Cyan." Trep could just barely feel Red's fingertips trace along the sensitive skin of his face, felt as one - and it felt sharp - brushed at the tears Trep hadn't even realized he was shedding. He bucked again, the movement weak as his body numbed.
"Quiet now," Red murmured, "it'll be just like going to sleep." His voice was distant as the blackness in Trep's eyes filled his vision entirely. The last thing he could remember was something soft pressed against his forehead, and the echo of Red's words in his ears.
addison’s first impression of trep when he first meets him (before knowing hes an alien & trusts him as a normal crewmate) and maybe little things trep did that made addison have a small crush on him/become more fond of him?
This one got away from me a little - both in length, and the fact that it ended up more as Addison's point of view of their first journey together. I did still try to incorporate interactions between them, though, so I hope you'll enjoy! Thank you for the idea! :)
Addison had been a captain for a number of years, now, and by all accounts this crew was…average. Not especially experienced, but hardly green - a mix that could prove easy to work with, so long as they were at least competent.
As Addison sat at the meeting table and swept his gaze over the lot, he also considered the worst case scenario. He always did - or, at least, had done so since the first time one of his crews had been infiltrated by an Impostor. It never got easier, though - even now, he just couldn't imagine any of this crew, all of which were chatting amicable among themselves, being bloodthirsty monsters.
"Are you going to be giving introductory remarks anytime soon, Captain?" The drawled voice came from his side, and curiously Addison turned his head to look. A man in a cyan suit was sitting there, and he had his helmet resting casually in a palm, visor turned in Addison's direction. At the rather bold question, Addison felt an eyebrow raise - even if the other couldn't see it.
"Have some patience," Addison responded, "I thought you would all appreciate the chance to talk amongst yourselves and get settled in."
"It's been a long ascent, I'm sure what we would all appreciate is being free to rest."
"Are you telling me how to do my job?"
At that, Cyan lifted his head from his hand - and even through the impenetrable glass of his visor, Addison was sure the other man was giving him a calculating and possibly scathing look.
"Do I have to?"
For the principle of the matter, Addison turned his attention away from Cyan, and let the conversation around them continue for a few minutes. Only then did Addison stand and draw the crew's attention. His spiel was the usual thing - a welcome, an explanation of the various parts of the Skeld, task assignments, and of course the implementation of the buddy system.
Addison wasn't sure what he was bringing on himself when he requested that Cyan be his own buddy - but, somehow, it seemed the obvious choice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Addison slipped the headset from his head and blinked as his eyes failed to readjust to the bright lights of Weapons. It took him a few long seconds to realize that was because there weren't any lights to adjust to - the room around him was pitch black. Frowning, Addison set the headset down and got to his feet. He turned towards the door - and immediately came to a standstill when he was suddenly face to face with Cyan.
Addison didn't jump, but his heart caught low in his throat. The other was standing there in the darkness, looking at him - they'd briefly split so Cyan could finish a task in Navigations, but Addison hadn't realized the other man had returned. In the dark, Cyan was…imposing, somehow, although the sudden shock of it faded a bit when Cyan tilted his head in curiosity.
"Apologies, Captain, did I startle you?" Cyan asked - and the way his voice lilted in obvious sardonic humor went a long way to easing Addison's oddly fried nerves. Addison let out a huff of a breath.
"Yes, Cyan, most normal people would be startled to find someone lurking in the dark behind them," Addison retorted, "how long have you been there?"
"Not long - the lights went out, so I came to be sure you were alright. Although," Cyan paused and tilted his head, "I guess I should have been more concerned about whether or not you'd died of fright."
"I'm fine," Addison said firmly, "I'm not that easily spooked by the dark, of all things -"
"No, just lurking men," Cyan quipped back, and Addison couldn't help but scowl.
"We need to go see what's going on with the lights. Come along and make yourself useful," Addison said. He sidestepped Cyan as he flicked on the light of his helmet and headed for the door. For a few seconds, Cyan didn't move - but before Addison could turn and see what was going on, he heard Cyan's footsteps fall into line behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And, sure, Pink had a point - it was suspicious that he'd seen Cyan near Shields. Especially as the other had been meant to complete a task in Navigations. Yet Cyan's calm assurance that Pink was either lying or had misremembered the color he'd seen was a stark contrast to Pink's angry, spitting accusation.
Besides - it'd been two weeks. How many opportunities had Cyan had to kill Addison? The answer was too many to count - and that was the assurance Addison gave his team. Addison was still alive - Cyan simply couldn't be the Impostor.
Cyan's clear relief and genuine gratitude - emotions so different from his usual sharp sarcasm - only further reassured Addison that he was right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Addison knew he had to hold it together - his team, what little was left of it, needed him. They had fought Black, had managed to send the alien into space - and, yet, just that day they'd found Purple slit open top to tip. The panic on the ship was heavy and palpable - and Addison's crew needed him. He had to put up the front of competent captain - even though with every death all he really wanted to do was slip into some hole and hide until it was over.
"I think we're all missing a very important possibility," Green said, their voice stiff as they got to their feet. They swept a gaze over the small remaining crew - only five of them now - and then promptly pointed at Addison. "Maybe it's the captain! Maybe it's been him all along!"
Addison grit his teeth and forced back the words he desperately wanted to throw back at the other crewmate. Bit them back, swallowed them away - Green wasn't wrong, after all, they should be considering every possibility. Still, the accusation stung, especially when all Addison had been doing was trying to solve this. To protect them.
"I understand the concern," Addison began, his voice much steadier than he felt, "but I assure you -"
"I've been with Captain Red nearly all this time," Cyan stepped in, his own voice calm and smooth, "I'm confident I would have noticed if he were slipping off and killing the crew. Besides," He paused, and Addison could feel Cyan's gaze on him, "after we found Lime, the Captain very nearly destroyed the card reader in his grief - I can't imagine anyone being able to fake a reaction like that." Cyan stood as well and crossed his arms as he studied Green. "Not to point fingers, Green, but that you would even try to blame the Captain - our best bet at making it out alive - is a bit alarming."
"I'm just saying...we should consider everyone," Green said, immediately cowed as they sat back down. Cyan's answer was a nod as he slipped back into his own seat. Bolstered by the trust of at least one of his crew, Addison took a breath and gave the others their new orders.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Addison was exhausted - all he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn't make himself turn away from the sight ahead of him, though. Cyan was standing at the massive window that lined Navigations - he was staring out at Green's disappearing body, a hand laid heavy on the glass. They had made it - but only they had made it. Surely, Addison thought, that guilt and pain was dragging on Cyan, too.
So Addison called for Cyan, walked up to stand beside the other man, and on a whim reached out to lay a hand on Cyan's shoulder. It said something, Addison thought, that Cyan didn't try and move away. Addison stared out into the abyss of space - but he could feel Cyan's eyes on him.
"Are you doing alright?" Addison asked, and immediately he berated himself for the lackluster, stupid question. Still, Cyan nodded.
"Will be, now. I only wish we'd found the second Impostor before losing so many."
"Agreed," Addison said. He felt the muscle of Cyan's shoulder tense beneath his hand. Worried that he'd upset the other man, Addison hurried ahead. "The ship is on track for home. I think I'll try and sleep the rest of the journey. You'll know where to find me if there are any issues."
"Of course, captain. Rest well." Cyan's response was simple, and short, but Addison thought it genuine.
"Make sure to get some rest, yourself," Addison answered, the words feeling awkward even as they left him. He slipped his hand away from Cyan's shoulder, waited a heartbeat for any more response, and then turned to head for his quarters.
Addison's guilt over the demise of his crew was thick, painful, and nearly all-consuming. It was tempered, though, even if only an infinitesimal bit, by his relief that Cyan, at least, had survived.
I know we got that drabble with Trep showing Addie his true form a bit more but... what about a little drabble about Jamie seeing more of Skitch's true form? Y'know... when Skitch isn't busy almost dying on a Medbay bed. 👉👈
Your wish is my command! Thank you for the prompt! And secondary thank you to @ambathy because once again I am using their monster fanart as a starting place for this scene. I hope you like it!
With a soft grunt, Jamie pushed the couch the last little bit until it was flush against the wall. Then, he straightened, dusted at his hands, and then turned to face Skitch.
The Impostor was standing in the middle of the living room in the large and empty space they'd cleared. Skitch looked around and squeezed his hands together - and his clear worry brought a light frown to Jamie's face.
"Are you alright?" Jamie asked, and Skitch's immediate answer was a nod. Jamie waited a few seconds, and sure enough Skitch continued.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Skitch signed, the question leaving a slight shakiness in his hands. "I don't know if this will go the way you think it will."
"If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do this," Jamie said firmly as he moved to stand closer to his boyfriend. "That's that, end of conversation." Jamie reached out, laid a hand along Skitch's arm, and squeezed - and when Skitch looked at him, Jamie gave him a smile. "You're not going to scare me, though, I promise."
Skitch studied him for a long second before, with a breath, he nodded. He gestured away with his hand, and Jamie obediently took a few paces back, moving to stand at the edge of the room. Jamie watched as Skitch looked down at his hands - and continued to watch, even as Skitch's form began to change.
Everything had happened so quickly on the Skeld - Jamie hadn't really seen Skitch change, then, as he’d been more distracted by the fighting Impostors. Now, though, he was witnessing it in real time. Skitch's pale skin began to rip and boil - and quickly gave way to glimmering, ink-black hide. He crouched forward, and when he touched the ground it was with massive clawed hands. Everything about him began to elongate - his face, his body, his legs. When all was said and done, Skitch's human form had given away to something massive, long, and definitely alien.
He was laid on the ground, four separate sets of legs and clawed feet tucked beneath him. A tail - thick at the base, but long, whiplike, and sharp by the end, was curled around his body. Another set of - well, Jamie wasn’t sure if they’d be classified as legs or arms, but either way, they jutted upward from near Skitch’s shoulders and hovered above his torso. Skitch’s head was almost canine-like - with a long, rounded muzzle and set upon a thick and elongated neck. Although the especially long, piercing teeth that jutted from the top of his mouth down below his chin gave him a thick air of danger. The ears on his head twitched and angled like a dog’s might - but the shape of them were much more reminiscent of bat ears.
When Skitch ducked his head slightly, as if more unsure than ever, Jamie realized he should do more than just stare. He moved quickly over to the Impostor and, once in front of him, Jamie reached out and laid his hands on either side of Skitch’s muzzle. This close, Jamie could really appreciate how big Skitch was - between his hands, the Impostor’s muzzle was like holding onto a thick tree trunk.
Jamie had expected fur - but Skitch’s skin was cool, thick, and somewhat rough to the touch. As Jamie drew small circles with his hands, he could feel minute imperfections and wrinkles snatch at his skin. With a soft hum, Jamie dragged his nails gently down along Skitch’s muzzle - and then trailed his hands over the two visible teeth. They were deadly sharp - no doubt could cut through anything - although Jamie knew that was true of all of the incisors lining the inside of Skitch’s mouth.
A sudden breath of air startled Jamie, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the sensation of it brushing over his face and hair. He looked up to find one of Skitch’s amber eyes - now nearly the size of Jamie’s head - watching him. Even in this form, Jamie could see the apprehension and worry there - so he gave Skitch a bright smile, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Skitch’s nose.
An explosive purr escaped Skitch’s body, the sensation enough to vibrate at Jamie’s feet. Emboldened, Jamie trailed a line of kisses along the side of Skitch’s muzzle, and as he got closer to the Impostor’s neck, Skitch curled in on himself. Jamie felt Skitch’s tail press against the back of his legs, and a massive claw wrapped gently around the back of Jamie’s torso. Skitch dipped his head down, and when he nuzzled his nose against Jamie’s abdomen, Jamie couldn’t help but pull back with a soft giggle.
“That tickles,” Jamie complained without any real heat, eyes going up to the smaller pair of arms above Skitch’s head. Sure enough, it seemed their purpose was largely communication as they began to sign Skitch’s answer.
“You tickled first,” Skitch responded, and Jamie felt his face split into a grin.
“Are you telling me that the big, scary Impostor is ticklish?” Jamie teased, and he reached to tickle at the underside of Skitch’s jaw - and despite his question, he was genuinely surprised when Skitch wiggled slightly at the sensation and wrapped his tail around them both a little tighter still. With a soft growl of protest, Skitch dipped his head a little further still, until he was pressing the top of it against most of Jamie’s body. With a soft laugh, Jamie acquiesced and moved his hands to rub softly at Skitch’s ears instead.
“You really are something, you know,” Jamie said quietly as he watched himself massage Skitch’s ears. “The way your skin glitters, how bright your eyes are, all these claws and teeth - you’re gorgeous, Skitch.”
“Flattery,” Skitch responded, even as he pressed his head a little more firmly still against Jamie.
“Truth,” Jamie retorted, leaning forward to press another kiss to Skitch’s skin. “I love you, Skitch. No matter the form you take.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
And as a little bump, I'm still 100% open for more. ;) (Of any of the ensemble - I'll write about Trep and Addison all day long but happy to play with Skitch and Jamie or even the others too!)
