#spacedogs week

[reel-hannibal]

Signal Boost - #RareMeat: Spacedogs Week

“ #Spacedogs Week celebrates one of the most beloved #HannibaExtendedUniverse #RareMeat pairings! Nigel and Adam's love is forever written in the stars! Tag #RareMeat / @RareMeat_  in your old/new content and we will RT and share the love!”

Tag your works with #RareMeat to share the love and add them to the MonthlyRareMeat AO3 collection. Also, signal boost the post on Twitter to spread awareness!

[themadswanking]

Thunderstorms

So hello! This is just a short drabble I made for spacedogs week while it’s raining cats and dogs here. I know it’s a bit cliche, but still I hope you people enjoy... somewhat... Thank you and have a wonderful Spacedogs Summer everyone!  

Adam hates the stormy weather. He hates it because he can’t go out at night and look at the stars, he hated it because it’s always cold and when the thunder clap rolls he gets the frights. Even if he knows that it was just a scientific process, he can’t help but cringe into himself in bed, bundled up like a ball under the sheets, praying that the weather lets up as soon as it can.

The bad man from Bucharest truly loved Adam. He loved him so much that he would go to great lengths to do almost anything and everything for him. But as much as he devoted himself to his Little Spaceman, when work calls, work calls. From New York he had to fly off to Romania just to sort out the shit he left behind and piled up. The moment he set foot in his home country he set off to work, running around from places to places, talking to different people and making (or destroying) old partnerships and deals with said people. He was so busy that he ended up only getting to sit down and rest the following day’s wee hours. 

Nigel sat down, a bottle of piss beer in hand as he skimmed through the papers he had to check and recheck for loop holes and such. The tv was blaring in front of him, showing him the news update for New York. It was then when the weather update came up that he had to stop whatever important thing he was doing and listened intently to the weather report. It didn’t take him long enough to stand up, grab his coat and make his way to the airport. 

The day started off as nice and sunny, a normal summer day with the crisp air hanging about. The little astronaut was skeptic about the weather before, but as he ate his sandwich next to Harlan, he pushed his thoughts about it away and continued to eat. The telescope was already arranged next to the window in his room. He was going to view the celestial bodies tonight, as he did on many nights while Nigel was gone. 

That’s why when evening came, Adam was surprised upon hearing the first spray of rain outside his window. This only meant that there was no star viewing tonight. Adam then went about the usual routine, making himself dinner as he watched his favourite documentary in the hopes that the rain would let up afterwards. Already he has cleaned up and changed and the rain continued to pour, if at all it seemed as if it got harder. Adam then went to bed, his heart heavy as his hobby was inhibited by the weather. 

Then it came, the first flash of light illuminated the room and the roll of thunder echoed a few seconds afterwards. Adam’s eyes widened and he covered his ears and hunched into a ball in bed. He was scared, and he hated the fact that of all the days it could have had a thunderstorm, Nigel just had to be gone. He closed his eyes, trying to think of stars, of asteroids, and the smell of Nigel after he takes a bath in the evening. It calmed him for awhile before another thunderclap rolled and he heard himself squeak in fright. 

He turned around and reached for his phone. Nigel warned him about this happening before, and if it should happen he shouldn’t hesitate to call him. Nigel had that effect on him. He is able to calm and soothe Adam with his mere voice, and right now he was seeking that familiar voice. Dialling the numbers with shaky fingers, another flash of lightning illuminated the dark room before he could accomplish the task and bring the phone to his ear. “Pickuppickuppickupickuppickuppickup.” Adam chanted in his head like a mantra to no avail. Nigel’s phone kept on ringing but he wouldn’t answer.

Adam tried again and again until he grew to scared of the onslaught to even bring the phone to his ear. Curling up he buried his face to his knees and nearly sobbed when he heard the door to the apartment fly open and there was a squelching sound coming through as footsteps became louder and louder. Then there was a soft rustling sound after the footsteps came to a halt in his room. Adam didn’t look up, was too afraid too look up when he felt damp but warm strong arms wrap around him. He was pulled against a strong frame and his tension willed away as his face pressed against a bare chest. 

“Hush now gorgeous.. I’m here.” Nigel spoke softly into the warm curls of his Adam as the younger man wrapped his arms around his frame and pressed himself into his heat. The bad man from Bucharest effectively enveloped the astronaut and rubbed soothing circles down his back as he calmed down and relaxed in his arms. Adam then finally looked up and saw Nigel looking at him with a soft gaze, shirtless and embracing him. His hair was stuck to his skull, damp from what he could guess was from the rain.  “Why is your hair wet?” Adam asked curiously before another flash of lightning came and he had to hide his face against Nigel again. Nigel sighed but smiled still as he nosed his hair and pulled him even closer. 

“I ran from the airport and came straight here.”

[themadswanking]

Cold Nights

Adam hates sleeping alone, he hates it when Nigel has to stay out late at night and he has no warm arms wrapped protectively around him. He often comes to bed, staring at the empty space where Nigel would usually lay and he imagines he i there. Unfortunately it doesn’t help much and he just curls up into a ball under the covers feeling cold for most nights.

In the morning however, he's glad to always find that the bad man from Bucharest is snoring softly next to him, half naked with his arms wrapped around him, nose pressed to his curls and his chest pressed against his cheek. Cold nights rewarded with warm mornings. 

[darkdreamsofhannigram]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The little spacedogs fic I put up here, posted on AO3.

Nigel has a new idea for Adam.

[the-bees-patella]

fem!spacedogs, “curiosity”

So unfortunately school has caught up with me and I had this WHOLE THING planned, but then of course I didn’t do it, so here’s an abbreviated drabble including fem!Spacedogs for Spacedogs Week. Dedicated to @granpappy-winchester, to whom we owe this whole (fucking) thing.  

Notes: Adam has become “Eve,” for self-evident reasons up to and including that I think I’m hilarious, and apparently “Nigella” is a real name, so I’m running with that. This is an alternate universe in which Adam and Beth are just friends, and Adam doesn’t move to California, finding a job with a private space exploration company office in New York instead.

                                                       &

Eve stumbles outside, ears ringing with too much noise, the thumpity-thump beat of the bar’s music still jarring her bones and the nonstop chatter cluttering her ears. She’s uncomfortably drunk, just this side of too much, but she feels the sloshing of her stomach as acutely as she feels everything—that is to say, too much. She wraps her arms around herself, feeling the uncomfortable stretch of the jacket across her shoulders.

Beth had coaxed her out tonight. “Come on,” she’d said, pushing gently at Eve’s shoulder. “You’ll have fun. Just an hour.”

“I’d have fun at home,” Eve retorted.

But Beth turned up at her door at nine p.m. sharp, dressed to the nines in a short, glittery dress, her lips pink and glossy, and, well, Eve didn’t want to disappoint, is tired of disappointing, so she’d sighed and let Beth put her into the heels she’d worn to her mother’s funeral and drag her to SoHo somewhere.

Now, with the sugary-sweet remnant of an overpriced cosmopolitan or six on her tongue, she’s outside. While she’d been hunched at the bar, Beth had caught the eye of some guy with very white teeth, and then the air got too tight and her skin felt like every nerve was a needle.

She takes deep lungfuls of the dirty New York City air. It’s better than the scent of sweat and desire inside. There are people milling outside, but the important thing is that none of them are looking at her. The wind has a nip of cold in it, but it’s refreshing. Her hands come to rest at her sides, curling and uncurling compulsively. It feels good. Somebody gets too close for comfort but she closes her eyes and breathes. She’s gotten better at this; at pretending that the world is just as smooth to her as it seems to be to other people, voluntarily filing away the edges.

“Hey,” the person next to her says. “You just gonna ignore me?”

She turns to look. It’s a man, in a light green polo shirt that’s too tight for him. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You alone?”

She stares at the space between his eyebrows. Her hands curl and uncurl. “Yes. Right now. I came with a friend. She’s inside.”

“Your friend as pretty as you are?”

Eve frowns. “That’s subjective. She is very symmetrical, but I haven’t done a comparison.”

He seems to be looming over her. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”

“Probably not.”

“C’mon, baby. Smile, for me?”

Eve’s frown only furrows deeper and she turns to look at the gutter. “For you? I don’t owe you anything. I don’t even know you.”

She can feel the heat of him as he steps even closer. She closes her eyes against the fleck of spit that flies onto her cheek as he snarls, “What the fuck, bitch. What kind of—”

“Hey.” It’s a clear voice, with a lilt of an accent. They both turn to look.

It’s a woman, leaning against a streetlight. Her elegant hands are holding a cigarette, the filter stained with the rich plum of her lipstick. She’s made even taller by her high-heeled boots, legs long in skintight leather pants. Her mouth is twisted in an odd little half-smile, points of her teeth glimmering against the full sweep of her lips. “Why don’t you fuck off?”

“Fuck you, bitch,” the man says. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Doesn’t look like she was fucking talking to you, fuckface,” the woman says casually. “Were you, sweetheart?”

Eve stiffens at the endearment, but shakes her head.

“So why don’t you do us all a fucking favor and fuck off.”

“Fucking cunt. Fucking slut.”

“I don’t think the number of people I have sex with is relevant,” Eve says, watching as the woman laughs, an exhale of thick smoke. She drops the cigarette and crushes it under a sharp spiked heel.

“It’s never fucking relevant,” the woman agrees. “So why don’t you get your tiny-cocked shitfaced ass out of here, before I have to make you?”

The man sways with alcohol and belligerence. “You gonna make me?”

“Oh, with absolute fucking certainty. But I’m giving you a chance to do it on your own, yeah? You’re testing my fucking patience here, fuckface.”

He lunges at her, and in a movement so fast Eve doesn’t catch at all, he’s suddenly pressed up against the streetlight, arm twisted in a painful, unnatural angle behind his back. “I fucking told you,” the woman says in her low, rough voice, still conversational.

“Fuck you,” the man spits, and Eve flinches as his face is slammed full-on against unforgiving metal. His nose makes a sick cracking noise, and he’s bleeding profusely from his face. Eve hasn’t seen that much blood outside of movies.  

“Most definitely fucking not,” the woman says, the edge of a snarl at her mouth. “Now, why don’t you make like a good little fucking boy and fuck the fuck off.” She throws him into oncoming traffic. There are only a few cabs drifting past at this time of night, but there’s still a nasty screech and honking horns as the man reorients himself to make it across the street. Eve screws her eyes tight at the sound.

The click and fire of a lighter as the woman cups her hand around another cigarette and takes a deep drag. “Pity,” she says, then turns to Eve. “You all right?”

“I—I’m fine,” she says. There’s blood drying on the pavement, and she tries not to look at it.

“Fucking assholes,” the woman says. “Can’t fucking stand them.”

“Do you always swear so much?” Eve asks.

The woman laughs, a real, bright thing. “You’re fucking something else. So, you gonna thank me, or what?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Eve points out.

“That’s true.” The woman’s eyes are burning into her, two uncomfortable pinpricks of attention trying to catch her eyes. “Hope I didn’t barge into a romantic-ass conversation with your fucking soul-mate.”

“I disagree with the concept of a single soul-mate,” Eve says. “And I’m not romantically attracted to men in any case.”

“Oh?” A lift of an eyebrow. A pause. Then the woman holds her hand out. “Name’s Ella.”

Eve looks at her hand. It’s calloused, with short clean nails. She thinks about that hand on the back of the man’s neck, the crunch of his face against the streetlight. She keeps her hands pressed to her sides and says, “My name is Eve.”

“Come here often, Eve?”

She shakes her head, still resolutely looking ahead. “My friend wanted me to come with her. I didn’t want to.”

“Why did you, then?”

Why. It’s not a question that’s asked very often, and it’s not one she likes. Explaining the mechanics of her mind has never been easy, much less to a stranger. As she contemplates the quiet tick tick tick of the quartz in her mind’s eye, she’s still hyper-aware of Ella’s gaze. “It’s what friends do,” she says finally.

“What did you want to do instead?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“Fuckin’ curious, is all.” Ella drops the cigarette butt into the gutter. “You don’t have to answer them.”

“I’d rather be at home,” Eve says. “I got a new book I wanted to read.”

“You wanted to read?”

Eve nods. “The Wright Brothers, by David McCullough. It’s about aeronautics—the history of flying, the development of the plane—not astrophysics, which is what I’m actually interested in, but I like reading about history, too. Although I prefer Doris Kearns Goodwin as a historian.”

“Smart fucking girl, then.”

Eve shrugs, dares a quick look up at Ella. “I like reading,” she says, and it sounds awkward, even to her.

Ella oozes confidence, with her bold lipstick and straight posture and easy smile. Her cheekbones are carved and high in the glow of the city at night, sandy blonde hair in a sharp bob that does nothing to hide the black outline of a tattoo across her throat. “Why are you talking to me? What do you want?” Eve says bluntly.

Ella looks at her with genuine surprise. Her smile slips for a second into a cold mask, the angles of her face almost cruelly geometric. Eve takes an involuntary step back, but draws a shaky breath and looks Ella in the eyes for as long as she can stand. Her eyes are amber, like a jaguar’s in a deep forest.

“Fucking curious, is all,” Ella says, smiling again, and Eve looks away, down at her shoes. The pointy toes of her shoes are clean, which is a miracle, considering how often she’d felt trodden on inside the bar. The toes of Ella’s boots are maybe seven inches from her own, and smeared with grime from the pavement. Her pants reveal a sliver of ankle, and Eve traces over the slim curve of bone with her eyes for as long as the silence stands. She can’t read the quiet at all, and it bothers her more than usual.

“There you are!” It’s Beth. Eve looks up. She’s dragging the man with very white teeth along behind her. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

Eve eyes the man. Beth’s lip gloss is smeared. “Sorry,” she says.

“You Eve’s friend then?”

Beth stops short and looks Ella up and down. “Yeah. And who are you?”

“Nobody—”

“This is Ella,” Eve blurts. Her hands curl up against her sides. “She helped me. A man was—harassing me, and she…” She looks up at Ella for reference, but gets no help—the blinds have shuttered across Ella’s face again. “She got rid of him.” It’s not inaccurate, Eve reasons with herself. A lie of omission.

“Well, thanks,” Beth says brusquely, openly staring at the tattoo across Ella’s neck. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

Eve nods, the exhaustion hitting her all at once. All she wants is water, and maybe an ibuprofen to soothe the pounding that’s already starting in her head. Beth steps off the sidewalk, still tugging the man along behind her by the hand, trying to hail a cab.

“You know, that shithead was wrong,” Ella says. Eve looks back up at her, focusing on the dark stain of her mouth. Her teeth are crooked. “You aren’t pretty—”

Eve turns away. Even she knows that’s not a kind thing to say, and it doesn’t make sense. Ella asked questions. Ella was curious. Effing curious, even. She flinches when a large hand cups her jaw, gentles her face back up to meet Ella’s eyes. Eve blushes terribly at the contact and looks away immediately. Ella’s skin is dry and slightly chilled from the night air, touch pleasantly light. “—You’re fucking beautiful,” Ella says.

A smile ambushes Eve out of nowhere, and she fights to keep it down. “That was—that was cheesy.”

“But I thought you liked fucking—astro-stuff. Don’t you know the moon’s made of cheese?”

Eve tilts her head. “Are you—mocking me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” Ella shakes her head solemnly. “Never.” But the crinkle of her eyes gives her away.

Eve huffs a tiny laugh but says nothing. She is keenly aware of the warm hand against her cheek, aware that it should repulse her; this hand stained with cigarettes and blood. Instead, it’s comfortable.

“Hey, listen,” Ella says, a low urgency in her voice that makes Eve look back up. “Tonight—just—just fucking remember, okay, that you don’t ever have to fucking do something you don’t want to. Fu—got it?”

Eve frowns. “I know that.”

“Do you fucking understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Eve!” Beth calls from the road. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Eve draws breath to say something, but instead steps away, looking over her shoulder once as she walks to the cab. Her face is cold in the shape of Ella’s hand against her face.

Beth and the man slide into the cab, and Eve follows after, squeezed in. Beth tells the driver their address, and Eve watches as Ella fades into the distance, replaced by the blur of city streets.

[imagine-hannigram]

Spacedogs Week Day 6A(Final)

Imagine Adam and Nigel are in a long distance relationship.

Imagine their first meeting.

[hollymartinswrites]

In which I make Spacedogs Week just under the wire...

This features fem!Adam, named Abby, as inspired by a wonderful little fic by @fallin-for-youreyes on tumblr. This isn’t a sequel; I simply borrowed her use of the name Abby for fem!Adam, which she kindly allowed me to do. Cheers!

So please enjoy and do be aware this is unbetaed in my haste to post this in time for Spacedogs week. xoxo

"Someone wants to see you, boss." "Tell 'em I'm busy." "Yeah, but—" "Just fu- tell 'em!" Nigel growled as his stupid bartender shrugged and walked out of his office, closing the door behind him. Cecilia giggled, leaning her head back against her father's chest and Nigel tightened his grip around her soft toddler belly. "Can't get a moment's peace," Nigel grumbled, clicking through the numbers on his computer, his eyes scanning the month's bills and profit. "Peace, peace, peace," Cecilia sang to her stuffed dragon, flapping its wings. "That's right, baby girl, that's what your Tata never gets." "Dada!" "Tata." "Dada." "Tata." "Love you, Dada." "Okay, you win. You can call me Dada." Nigel leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter's curls before returning to the numbers on the screen.

They were both silent for several moments, aside from Cecilia's singing to her dragon (or maybe he was singing, who knows?), when there was another knock on the door. "I'm busy!" Nigel barked. "Boss?" That idiot barkeep peeked his head in again and had Nigel's arms not been filled with 19-month-old toddler, he would've thrown something at his stupid head. "That woman keeps insisting to see you." "What woman? She looking for a job, tell her we're not hiring." "No, she says—" "And tell her I'm in the middle of a phone call." "Ring ring!" Cecilia chirped. "That's right, little girl, the phone goes ring ring." "Yeah, but—" "Just throw her out on her ass. I'm busy here." "Okay, just—" "Where is he? Is he back here?" Nigel froze. He wondered vaguely if his synapses were broken and he had finally lost his mind. Then he realized Abby would probably tell him synapses can't break or something and it wasn't until he heard Cecilia going, "Ow, Dada!" did he realize he was holding her too tightly. "I'm sorry, baby, I—" "Nigel?" Oh fuck. He turned in the chair, his arms protectively encircled around his daughter, and tried to steady his breathing. She was right there. Right fucking there. "Gabi," he gasped. She was still beautiful, pale and with long hair, flaming red. Her eyes were wide and Nigel knew they must've looked comical, staring at one another silently, with only a toddler between them. "It is you," she breathed. "I can't believe I found you." Nigel stood up slowly, his grip on Cecilia tight. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "How—" Gabi took a small step and then hesitated, her hands falling to her sides. A tentative smile crossed her lips and Nigel realized he couldn't remember what they tasted like. He swallowed. She shook her head and huffed a laugh. "Whose baby is that?" Nigel gripped Cecilia even tighter and she whined in response. "Mine." Gabi raised an eyebrow. "Who—" "What are you doing here, Gabi?" he repeated. "Where's that cock- where's what's-his-name?" Gabi smiled tightly and shook her head. "Gone." "Dead?" "No!" Gabi sighed. "It wasn't meant to be. It was just..." "A way to escape me." "To escape Romania," Gabi said. "You did, too." "And how exactly did we both wind up here?" "I got a job," Gabi said. "A pit orchestra I met up with in Germany. We're going cross-country." "But how did you find me?" Gabi smiled again. "Darko," she said and Nigel growled again. He would have to have a conversation with him soon. "Said you were in New York and owned a bar but didn't give me much to go on. But there aren't many Romanian bar owners with a shit tattoo on his neck and a bad attitude." Nigel felt his face heat up, looked down, and pressed his lips to Cecilia's hair. She giggled and he closed his eyes. "And what are you doing here in my shithole bar?" Nigel asked. Gabi reached into her torn shoulder bag and for a wild second, Nigel panicked that she had finally come to kill him. Then she pulled out sheets of paper. "Here," she said, handing them to him. "A gift." Nigel shifted Cecilia to his hip and grabbed them. "The fuck is this?" he mumbled. "Divorce papers." Nigel looked up in shock. "It seems about time, don't you think?" Gabi said, sighing and running a hand through her hair. "Unless we are still death to us part. Though," she nodded towards Cecilia who smiled widely in response, "I doubt that." "Gabi, I...what..." "Where's her mama?" Gabi asked abruptly. Nigel looked up and blinked rapidly. "She's at class right now." "She's a student?" Gabi asked, wrinkling her nose. "Yeah, I mean, no, I mean she's thirty-three-years-old. Getting her Master's degree." "And is she...do you love her?" Nigel found himself smiling and he nodded. "Yes," he said softly. Gabi smiled. "I am glad," she said. "But it is time to move on, yes?" "Yeah," Nigel said, clearing his throat. "What do I have to do?" "Sign and I will get it filed." "Really?" "Yes. You can trust me." "I know but—" "You'll be notified when it goes through. I promise." Nigel nodded and looked back down at the paperwork, already bearing several of Gabi's signatures. "There wasn't much to divide between us," she said, "after you gave the club to Darko." He nodded. "You can take whatever is left," he said. "I already did," she grinned. Nigel quirked an eyebrow at her and then put it on his desk. "How long are you going to be in New York?" "Until Tuesday." "Let me read it over. Then I'll get it all to you." "You promise to sign it though?" she asked. "Yeah, I will. I promise." He grinned. "Anxious to get rid of me?" "I think you should be, too," she said, motioning to Cecilia. "You love her Mama, don't you?" Nigel nodded. "Now you can marry her. You always liked being a husband." Nigel swallowed and nodded. "I'll get this back to you by Monday. I promise. I'm here by noon." "Fine," Gabi said. "But don't fuck with me." "Fuck!" Cecilia sang. Gabi grinned as Nigel growled at her. "Hush, Cecilia, you know that's a bad word," he said. Gabi laughed as Cecilia nodded solemnly and then she leaned up to kiss Nigel on his check. He blinked. "Never thought I'd see you as a papa," she said. "Enjoy it." She turned and walked out of his office. From the open doorway, Nigel was able to see a young man waiting for her at the end of the hall. He reached out his hand to take hers and together, they left the empty bar. Nigel swallowed and looked down at the papers on his desk. "This is our secret, alright, Cecilia?" he said. Cecilia nodded. Abby was typing feverishly on her laptop when he and Cecilia arrived home. "MAMA! MAMA!" Cecilia shrieked directly in Nigel's ear. Abby looked up and grinned, standing to take Cecilia in her arms. "Hello, my love, but we mustn't shout in Daddy's ear," she said, kissing their daughter gently. "That's alright, wasn't using it anyway," Nigel sighed. "Where is dinner?" Abby said, watching Nigel slowly take off his jacket and hang it up. "What?" "Dinner. You said you were going to pick up dinner from that new Italian restaurant down the street." "Fuck, I forgot." "Nigel, you know not to swear." Nigel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. "I forgot about dinner," he repeated quietly. "Well, it's alright, I can make us macaroni." "Fine," he huffed. "I'm gonna take a shower." "Are you alright?" Nigel turned to look at Abby. She was staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes as Cecilia played with the necklace he had given her three years ago on her birthday, humming happily. "I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Headache." "Take some aspirin." "I will." "Maybe a cup of tea?" "Fine." "Nigel?" He stopped on his way down the hall to turn back to Abby. "You didn't kiss me hello," she said. Nigel frowned and nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her gently on her lips. "I love you." "I love you, too." "Love you!" Cecilia repeated happily. Nigel smiled and headed into the bathroom. Abby was asleep beside him. Cecilia slept quietly in her room, her tiny sighs coming in over the baby monitor. Nigel suspected she was too old to have one but he was still afraid of not being able to hear her as she slept. He sighed and sat up. He managed to get out of bed with very little noise but of course, Abby always knew what he was doing. "Nigel?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. "Where are you going?" "Just to the kitchen for a bit. Go back to sleep." "Are you hungry?" "Headache again," he lied. "Again? I'm worried about you." Nigel bit his tongue and looked back at Abby—she was staring up at him a brow furrowed in concern. God, he hated himself. "I'm fine," he repeated. "Allergies. Go back to sleep." "But—" "Abby, please." "Are you upset with me about something?" "No! No, darling, not at all." In two long steps he was beside the bed and leaned down to kiss her firmly. "I'm not upset with you. This is all me." "Then you are upset with something." "No, not exactly just...confused." "Perhaps we should talk it out," Abby suggested. "I just need some alone time. Alright, sparrow?" Abby swallowed and nodded. "Promise you're not upset?" she whispered. "I promise. Now go to bed. You've got studying to do tomorrow." She nodded and laid back down, watching him leave the bedroom. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to steady her rapid heart rate and quell the sudden rising tide of nausea. Three days later, Nigel had read and re-read the paperwork from Gabi. One of the less shady lawyers he had dealt with when he got the bar went through it and they agreed everything was in order. He signed it and handed it over. It was filed. It was done. Gabi smiled stiffly. Nigel stared at her and realized with a start than he had long stopped thinking of her as his wife. How odd. He hadn't noticed it before. "Now you can marry your daughter's mama," she said. "Yes." "Are you going to?" "I don't know." Gabi cocked her head to one side. "You ought to," she said after a few moments regarding him. "You are calmer now. Better. She has done a good job with you." He looked away. "What about him?" Nigel asked after a few moments, nodding towards the man waiting for her at the bar, the same man who walked her out last time. Gabi glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, Dietrich," she said. "He is in the orchestra, too. A good man." "Yeah?" Gabi nodded. "Well, I'm glad. For you." She smiled and nodded. "Where is your baby today?" "At home with her mom." "She is very cute." Nigel smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. All her mom's doing. Looks nothing like me." "I would not say that," Gabi said. "I saw your eyes in her." "She has blue eyes." "Yes but deeper. They reminded me of you, even without the color." Nigel swallowed and felt his heart constrict with a sudden intense desire to see Cecilia and hold her. "Goodbye, Nigel," Gabi said. She leaned up to kiss him again and he sighed against her lips. "Will I see you again?" he asked. Gabi shrugged and stepped back. "Dietrich and I may return to Germany. We may not. You are lucky; you can marry a US citizen now and get a green card." Nigel started. He hadn't thought of that. "Go home, Nigel, to your baby and her mama. You look sad." Nigel quirked a half smile and kissed her again. "La revedere, Gabi," he whispered. With a parting smile, she was gone. "DADA!" Tiny feet scampered to him before he had a chance to take off his jacket. "Hello, little bird," Nigel greeted, picking Cecilia up effortlessly and kissing her repeatedly on her chubby cheeks. "I missed you all day." "Missed you, too!" she repeated, rubbing her nose along his scruffy jaw. "And where's Mama?" he asked. "I'm right here," Abby said, appearing in the hallway. "Cecilia and I were just studying the properties of dark matter." "Sounds fun," Nigel grinned, leaning down to kiss Abby. "Now, can you hold her for a minute, I'll be right back." "Where are you going?" Abby asked, taking Cecilia back in her arms. "Bathroom." "Are you alright?" "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back." Abby held Cecilia close and watched Nigel disappear down the hall. "Your dad has been acting very strange, lately," Abby observed to her daughter. "Come on, we've got massive particles to study." Cecilia clapped her hands as her mother carried her back into the living room. Nigel splashed cold water on his face and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fucking fuck. Just get it together, old man." He scrubbed a hand over his face and winced when he realized he desperately needed a shave. He was about to reach for his razor when he determined he would just be procrastinating even more. Besides, Abby and Cecilia loved his scruffy face. Nigel leaned his head down on the sink and steadied his breathing. It's okay, he thought, you've got this. Of course she'll say yes. She's yours and your hers. Right? Nigel closed his eyes and reached down into his pocket and felt for the tiny velvet box. With one more deep breath, he stood up and pulled it out, opening it to triple check that the black opal ring was still there. Fuck, he hoped it was the right size. He snapped it shut and placed it back into his pocket and wiped his face with a towel. Okay, he thought, time to do this. He willed his feet to move out of the bathroom into the living room, where Abby was sitting on the couch, Cecilia sprawled in her lap, and the coffee table littered with papers, textbooks, and her laptop. Before he gave himself a chance to think, Nigel went down onto one knee in front of her and locked eyes with Abby. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Does your leg hurt?" "No, my leg doesn't hurt, sparrow," he said. "I'm kneeling because I have to ask you something." "Nigel, you have bad knees, you shouldn't be kneeling on a hardwood floor." "I can for a minute or two." "But—" "Just let me finish, alright?" Abby nodded, her eyes still concerned. "Abby, I have loved you since the moment you opened your mouth and started telling me about stars and constellations and black holes and black matter—" "Dark matter." "Dark matter and these last few years together have been the best of my fucking life." "Nigel!" "Sorry. But it's the truth. You not only gave me love and a purpose; you gave me our daughter and I never thought someone like me deserved so many miracles but I'm so grateful that everyday I get to wake up next to you, with Cecilia across the hall." Abby blushed. "I'm grateful, too," she said. "There's just one thing that's missing." Abby cocked her head and stared at him, questioningly. Nigel swallowed and reached into his pocket, retrieving the little box. With shaking hands, he opened it and presented the ring to Abby, suddenly nervous that she would be offended at not receiving a diamond. "Will you marry me?" he whispered. Abby gazed down at the ring, wide-eyed. "Nigel," she gasped, "it looks like a planet!" "I know, that's why I picked it out," he said. "Would you rather have a diamond ring? I'll get you one." "No, no! It's just..." and Abby suddenly looked sad. Nigel's stomach dropped. "We can't get married. You are still married to Gabi." Nigel grinned and shook his head. "No, we just filed the divorce papers. I saw her this week. Just a couple months and we'll be able to get married, you and me." "Really?" Abby breathed. "Really. I'll show you the paperwork and everything. Abby, we can do this now." Abby stared at him and then a wide grin broke over her face "Is that a yes, sparrow?" "Yes, Nigel, I'll marry you." Nigel's grin widened as he took out the ring. "Lemme have your hand, love." "Wait, I can't." "What? Why not?" Abby nodded down to Cecilia and Nigel blinked, suddenly realizing that Cecilia was not resting in her mother's arms, but nursing, being supported by Abby's left arm. He barked a laugh. Abby frowned. "Christ, I was so nervous, I didn't notice," he said, still laughing. "First time I ever didn't realize a woman's tit was out." Abby pursed her lips and tried valiantly not to smile, but failed. "It isn't out," she stated. "Not completely, anyway." "Well, when you're done, the ring is yours," Nigel said, and wondered if he would ever stop grinning. "But Nigel, I..." Abby trailed off and bit her lip nervously. "I don't know if I should take it yet." "Why the hell not? You don't like it?" "I love it! It's just... well, you remember how my fingers swelled up when I was pregnant with Cecilia," Abby said. Cecilia, at the mention of her name, looked up from her mother's breast and sang, "Mama!" "Yes, I'm your mama," Abby said and caught Cecilia's flaying hand with her own free one and kissed it. "You remember, right, Nigel?" "Well, yeah, but what does that—" Nigel stopped short and forgot, momentarily, how to breathe. He stared at Abby, beautiful, perfect Abby, and abruptly dropped the ring in his hand. "Nigel!" "Abby," he said and grabbed her by the shoulders, his hands shaking. "What are you saying?" "You dropped the ring." "No, before. About your fingers." "My fingers swell up when I'm pregnant." "Does that mean," Nigel said slowly, his heart racing, "that you're pregnant again. Now?" Abby smiled and nodded. "I was waiting to tell you for your birthday next week but..." she shrugged and Cecilia giggled. "Surprise." A strange sound escaped Nigel—he wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a sob—before he launched himself at her and kissed her firmly, causing Cecilia to erupt in shrieks of laughter as she found herself squished between her two parents. "Dada!" she cried. "Dada!" "Oh, Christ, I'm sorry, little bird," Nigel gasped, pulling back from the still smiling Abby. He leaned down and kissed Cecilia, running his hand through her hair. "My little bird is going to be a big sister." "Yes, she is," Abby agreed. Nigel sniffed and gazed back up, blinking away the tears in his eyes. "Abby," he whispered, cupping her face in his hand. "I fucking love you." "Nigel, you know better!" He laughed and kissed her again. "Forgive me?" he whispered. "Always," Abby smiled.

[imagine-hannigram]

Spacedogs Week Day 5A

Imagine Alpha!Nigel and Omega!Adam.