Summary: After hearing that Neteyam is moving right before your confession, you have to do something.
Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, sarcasm, cursing, not proofread
bro is so fine omg
You two were so in love and everyone could see it. Except you and him couldn’t tell.
From the hugs that lasted a little too long, always trying to learn more about the other, paying attention to them most, staring at each other from across the room, and hanging out together the most often.
You were in love, undoubtedly. However, no matter how much people brought it up to you two you always denied it and called each other a bestfriend.
You both were in love with each other, you knew that much.
You’ve known each other since birth. You’re parents being friends with his, you grew up together. You two were inseparable with the other.
----
You heard the news of them moving to a different clan and freaked out. You’ve been planning for like a month now on how you would confess your love towards him. He can’t move now!
You go to see him at his tent.
“Hey Mr. and Mrs. Sully!” You greeted walking into their home.
“Hello Y/n” they both responded in sync.
“Is Neteyam here I need to talk to him about something” You asked them.
They gave each other confused looks, “Y/n dear he went to find you. At least that is what he said.” Neytiri responded.
You eyebrows furrowed together out of confusion. Why was he looking for you? You thanked them and went out looking for him, you couldn’t find him anywhere. You lost hope and went back home. Then that's when you saw him.
“Neteyam!” You yelled.
He looked behind him, he looks relieved. You ran up to each other.
“I have to tell you something” You said at the same time.
You gave him a look that implied he go first, as he did.
“I talked to mine and your parents and they said it’s fine if you come with us once we move!” He exclaims to you.
You smile and drop your jaw out of shock, “seriously?!” your smile getting wider.
You hug him around his neck while he pulled you closer by your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.
It lasted a minute long before you finally let go of eachother.
“Um, what was it you wanted to say again?” he asks.
Your eyes widened forgetting that you were about to confess your love towards him, knowing that even if he didn’t feel the same he would be moving and it wouldn’t matter anymore.
Now you were having second thoughts. What if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings? What if you make everything stupid and awkward.
“right.” you say, you clear your throat and start to speak, “ Neteyam, ever since we were kids I knew I wanted to grow old and weird with you. Though the longer I have gotten to know you the more in love with you I fell. Neteyam, I love you so much. I love you and I have ever since I knew what real love was.”
He just stood there, you didn't realise you started shedding tears while you spoke.
All he responded with was wiping away one tear with his thumb.
“Please don’t kill me for this later” he states.
He leans in and kisses you.
When he pulled away you felt a state of shock. He liked, or loved, you as well?
He whispers in your ear, “I think... I can love you too”
You smile and feel your cheeks heat up.
“I didn’t mean to fall for you” you told him jokingly.
“And neither did I” he agreed.
“...Fucking pardon me?” You repiled with a sarcastic smile and chuckle.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Joly/Bossuet Laigle
Characters: Joly (Les Misérables), Bossuet Laigle, Bahorel (Les Misérables)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, silliness abounds, Also cats, this fic contains cats, and dorks being stupid
Summary:
For most people, coming home means getting to relax and unwind after a long day. For Joly, it means a lot of very diverse things, but certainly never boring. It's not always a good thing.
Finally it’s here, my submission for the @lesmissamepromptficchallenge !! That one was fun to do !
Full text under the cut :
Bossuet entering his life had been both the best and most surprising thing to happen to him, and the promise of way more weirdness that Joly had first thought when they met. Not that he complained, of course. Bossuet was a ray of sunshine, and Joly was ready to endure anything he brought with him, be it laughter, loud music, muddy footprints or the complete destruction of their living room furniture (he had not been able to explain that one). And he was ready to go through way more, just for the sheer joy of being able to wake up in the morning and be met with a warm cup of coffee. Or in the middle of the night with a mighty need to move the bed around, and be met by an owlish blink and a helping hand.
But what made Bossuet so extraordinary was that he kept surprising Joly in many ways. Not all of them good, of course, not with Bossuet's luck and... ideas. Joly could come home to a beautiful new plant in the living room, a missing doormat, a black kitten, or something way more nefarious.
Like today, for instance. Joly was reaching the second floor when he noticed something weird and very unusual. Granted, a building with dozens of people living there, half of them students, was bound to be full of weird noises and smells of all kinds. But something like burnt rubber, that was a new one. As was the light smoke that he could sure he could see trail lazily in the staircase. And it seemed to come from the last floor, of course. Their floor.
He climbed the steps as fast as he could, which wasn't much, trying to convince himself that it wasn't coming from their flat. But he knew very well that the second flat on their landing was home of a very kind lady who only came home in the middle of the night and whose only vice was the old piano concertos she liked to put a little too loud. The third one had been unoccupied since the bathroom had been entirely destroyed in an event that Joly didn't want to know anything about. Which meant...
He had barely put a foot and the tip of his cane on the last landing that his fears proved true : the noxious smell and the smoke were coming from their flat. And even worse, he could hear some anxious meowing behind the door, and the sound of claws on wood. The thought that they were going to have to repaint the door again crossed his mind, very quickly crushed by a devastating feeling of dread. Why were they so scared ?
It took him three tries to get the key in the keyhole. No sooner had he finally opened, that he was swamped by two very talkative beasts. Strangely, they didn't look too panicky, winding themselves around his legs, almost tripping him in their haste to demand their dinner right now. Good. At least the cats weren't in mortal danger. Joly could endure a lot, but harming Lucky and Tangerine would have been a dealbreaker. A couplebreaker. But they looked fine. Famished as usual, or so they pretended, but fine.
Joly took off his shoes and went to put his bag beside the desk. The cats immediatly rushed to the kitchen, where they were welcomed by a flurry of swears that were unmistakingly Bossuet, and another voice, more amused than annoyed. Bahorel was there, which both explained the strange smells and sounds, and didn't bode so well for their kitchen. Joly was half-tempted to turn away and run, but Tangerine was already in the room, meowing towards the door to get him to go faster.
- Joly ? Bahorel's voice rang. Is that you ?
There was a rush of metallic rasps and gongs that really didn't have any business to sound in any kitchen. Now, Joly was starting to have a *very* bad feeling about it, and the hushed whispers coming from the other room didn't help. He crossed the living room as fast as he could, almost toppling over the footrest that hadn't been pushed against the table in his hast to reach the door.
Bahorel and Bossuet both looked up at him with twin guilty glances that immediatly told Joly everything he needed to know. He didn't even need to look at the table covered with metallic parts of what was, this morning, a slightly battered microwave. Nor did he need to look at the light wisps of smoke lazily floating around the ceiling to understand what happened. With a sigh, he went to the cat's plates, which were of course perfectly full. He added a pinch of food in both, watched the two beasts rush to eat. Once assured they were fine, he turned to face the battlefield behind him.
And what a battlefield it was. The whole surface was covered with metallic parts still linked together by colorful wires. The glass plate was currently lying on Bahorel's lap, and all the tools they owned, plus at least a dozen others, were piled on the overturned metal cover. Bossuet was holding a soldering iron, the tip still smoking slightly. Joly appraised the disaster, then glanced at the culprits. It was almost amusing that they didn't look up again to meet his eyes, instead keeping theirs glued on their lap. If he had thought that the day would come when he would see Bahorel, a man who had laughed in the face of anti-abortion pickets and jump through clouds of tear gas like squares on a hopscotch, look like a scolded little kid...
Joly crossed his arms, puffing his chest up a little. He knew he didn't look that threatening, what with him being half as big as Bahorel, but it didn't hurt to try.
- Can I ask what happened ?
Bossuet and Bahorel exchanged a glance, probably weighting their options and trying to guess who was less likely to get yelled at. Not that Joly usually yelled at people, but he may give it a try. Or use his best weapon, the disappointed look. That one could work on them.
Bossuet finally decided to volunteer.
- I wanted to heat... (Joly frowned, and Bossuet hastily went on.) My coffee ! Because heating it with a pan is not good and.... Well, yes. I wanted to heat my coffee, and the microwave just...fizzled out.
- Fizzled out ? Joly repeated, alarmed. Did you get electrocuted ? Are you hurt ?
He was ready to dive forwards to check on him, but Bossuet stopped him with a raised hand.
- No, I didn't. It just made a weird noise, some kind of... "piouf", if you want. And it turned off, and didn't turn back on. No explosion, no big flash, no radiations.
At "radiations", Joly's heart did a somersault, and he almost jumped on Bossuet to make sure he didn't show any trace of radiation poisoning. But he needed to stay firm. No pity. He could always check later.
- And ? he asked. What happened next ?
- I figured that it may just have been a wire or something, I don't know, but we're not going to buy a new microwave if it's just something unplugged, right ?
He smiled again, and Joly had to fight the urge to smile back. He deepened his frown instead, knowing very well that it made him look like a pouty duck, but he couldn't let them think he was getting soft.
- So you decided to try and fix it ?
- At first, as I told you, I just thought it was an unplugged wire, and that I could re-plug it, and so you would come home to a very functionning microwave.
Joly couldn't help but be touched by the attention. So he refrained from remarking that he never used the microwave because he didn't want radiations to contaminate his food. Instead, he nodded to the mess in front of him.
- It doesn't look like a very functionning microwave.
- Well... (Bossuet sheepishly scratched his head) it hasn't really worked like I thought it worked.
- And how exactly did you think this worked?
- Not as easy as I thought it would be. I was hoping for a quick fix, just something to replace, but it's a bit more... I thought about calling Combeferre, but he just babbled something about magnets and he hung up. Then I thought about calling R, but you know how R hates everything that has anything to do with technique or science or maths. In fact, he screamed something about maths, so I thought it best not to disturb him more than needed. So then, in the blackest pits of despair, I turned to Bahorel.
- You are the most flattering of friends, Bahorel interjected, announcing to my very own face that I'm only your third choice !
He slammed his hand over his heart and made a show to keel over. Joly almost rushed to his help, but he sat back with a wink.
- Would you want me to say it to someone else's face ? Bossuet asked, unfazed.
- And risk me hearing it ? Really, Eagle, you're so cruel. Here I was, coming to your side in these dire times, bringing my tools and....
- And nothing else, Bossuet added, because you're even worse at electronics that I am.
- So what ? I'm bringing my lovely presence and support, and I haven't even broken any of your cups this time !
- That's fortunate, because I would have had to kick your ass, and then you'd have to kick my ass, and...
Joly cleared his throat, and they both looked at him, Bahorel sitting down from where he had gotten up to rub his fist on Bossuet's skull.
- Bahorel came to help you, Joly helpfully summarized, with a lot of tools, and you both...
His pointed look at the mess was enough. Bossuet shrugged with an easy smile.
- We both tried, but it seemed to be a bit more complicated than we thought. We had to bust out the smoldering iron, and it may make a bit more smoke than I thought. But maybe I'm using it wrong.
- No, Bahorel added. It does it all the time when I use it.
- This doesn't do anything to reassure me. But smoke or not, I think we got it ! See ?
He brandished a tiny screw that seemed to have been exposed to fire.
- I replaced two wires, welded them, and now I just need to put this there, and it'll work !
- Are you really sure ?
The worry in Joly's voice must have been very evident, because Bossuet gave him his patented smile, the one that told him that he didn't need to worry and that he was fine. Since he usually used it when he had just fallen down the stairs, or lost his wallet again, or the washing machine had decided to flood the bathroom, Joly didn't really feel comforted. But nothing happened as Bossuet put the screw back in place, then tightened it. He then put back every part he had scattered everywhere, carefully, adjusting them together under Joly's and Bahorel's attentive eyes.
At last, the microwave was complete again, standing on the table like it was brand new and just out of the styrofoam. If one was feeling forgiving and not take notice of the few scruff marks here and there, of course. Joly did feel a little forgiving, especially now that his table was almost back to its pristine state again. Now that everything was back in place, he could see that Bossuet had even taken the time to spread newspapers on the whole surface to protect it. How can he stay angry at him when he did things like that ?
Bossuet proudly put the newly assembled microwave back on the counter, plugged it in again.
- And now, let there be more light !
He turned the bouton with a flourish. The scene turned into black and blinding white for a very brief second, before all the lights went out and Bossuet yelped in pain. Joly tried to make his way to him, but slammed in a chair and almost toppled over. He leaned on the table to rub at his aching leg.
- Don't worry, Bahorel's voice rumbled something near his elbow, I've got this.
His steps rang through the kitchen and out in the hallway. Joly tried to find Bossuet, but no matter how he opened his eyes wider than saucers, he couldn't see anything. Anxiously, he followed the edge of the table, feeling every inch of the floor for another obstacle. He had reached the corner and was trying to find a way to crouch, when a small glow appeared on the doorway. Bahorel had somehow found the bathroom, the candles stacked on the bathroom - on the far edge of the bath, where they could fall only in water -, a lighter, and used them to bring them more light. How he knew so certainly where to find some would be a riddle for the ages. But it allowed Joly to locate Bossuet, sitting on the floor in front of the sink. He didn't look too hurt, and judging by the way he was blinking against the light, he was conscious. Good.
Bahorel put the candle on the table, bent down with an ease that made Joly slightly jealous, and hoisted Bossuet on his feet as if he was nothing but a dropped sack of flour. He went to grab the candle again, but Joly was faster than him. His glare was enough to dissuade Bahorel to try and balance both things at the same time.
They settled in the living-room, carefully putting Bossuet on the couch and the candle on the table. Joly immediatly pulled the emergency pack from where it was stashed under the coffee table and set to work. Luckily, it was not too bad, certainly less that he had thought.
- It's nothing, he said with relief while applying salve to the wounds. You see ? Just a few burns here, on your fingers. It could have been way worse. You could have been electrocuted ! Or worse !
Bossuet certainly knew the litany that was just waiting to burst, because he wisely refrained from asking what could have been worse than being electrocuted. Instead, he let him fuss over his hand as he saw fit, adding this and that until his skin up to the wrist was coated in salve. Joly was wrapping a very long bandage around the fingers when the lights came back on, and Bahorel strolled in, looking very proud with himself.
- Did you touch the fuses ? Joly asked, immediatly on alert.
Bahorel prevented him to jump on him to make sure he was alright, by spreading his arms and spinning on himself, almost knocking down the lamp on the process.
- Nothing on me, Joly-coeur, I'm good as new ! Just fucked around and found out.
- Found out what ?
- That all the fuses were fine. I just needed to turn the right button, and voilà ! Fiat lux ! And now, dear Eagle, and dear baby bird too (Joly stuck his tongue out), I will see myself out and let you to your own devices.
And with this, he skipped out. Bossuet watched it retreat until the door slammed, then sighed :
- What a friend, to leave me to get the brunt of your anger. Truly, I'm very lucky. No, sorry, he quickly amended. This is not nice. He came to support me in what was a stupid endeavour.
- He could have stopped you, Joly objected half-heartedly.
- It's not his job and you know it. Bahorel supports us in whatever we do. No, listen, Joly-coeur. I'm an adult, I'm able to make my own choices.
- And you chose to try and fix a microwave !
- You wouldn't scream at a wounded man, now, do you ?
Joly's only answer was to poke him sharply in the ribs, until Bossuet collapsed on the cushions in a fit of giggles.
At last, they were comfortably settled on the couch, under the warmest quilt they did own. The cats had joined them, laying all over their legs. Joly kept fussing about Bossuet's hand until he was assured that it was fine and that the fingers were not going to spontaneously fall off. He finally let go, leaning his head against Bossuet's shoulder. They sat in silence for a few minutes, gazing at the flicker of the candle still on the table.
- Are you still mad at me ? Bossuet suddenly asked.
Joly grabbed Lucky and pressed the cat's fuzzy head against his cheek, enjoying the low, soothing rumbling of the purr.
- I'm not mad at you, he answered at last.
- But you were.
This wasn't a question, and so Joly didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His behavior had been crystal clear for someone as apt as Bossuet at reading him.
- I'm sorry, Bossuet said. I put myself in danger, and...
- Don't, Joly sighed. I'm not mad at you. You're an adult and I don't get to scold you. I'm... worried. What if one day, something happens to you ? Something worst than a few burnt fingers ? What if I come home, and because no one could come to help you, I find you...
He chocked on the next word and had to bite back a sob. Bossuet gently unstuck his arms from between them to wind it around his shoulders and hold him close.
- I'm sorry, Joly-coeur. No, really. I didn't mean to worry you, I just wanted... no, that's not important. I didn't mean to worry you, period. If it makes it better, I solemny swear that I will not, now and never again, try to fix anything here. No microwave, no floorboards (Joly shivered at the memory of the last time Bossuet had had a hammer in his hands), no faucets, not even a potted plant.
Joly nudged him as hard as he could, which wasn't very much, squished as he was against Bossuet's side.
- No, Bossuet added. I'm serious. I won't do anything dangerous again. I really mean it.
He lifted Joly's hand to his mouth, placed a kiss on his knuckles.
- Not worrying you is more important than being a Mr Fix-It.
Joly stretched up, supporting himself on Bossuet's cat-free knee, and kissed him very gently, effectively cutting the apologies short. Bossuet's hand immediatly moved to the back of Joly's head as the other went to his waist, holding him close as he kept the kiss, not trying to push it farther. It was light and warm and hopeful and comfortable and theirs, and it made Joly feel perfectly alright for the first time since he'd left for the hospital this morning.
They let go after a few moments, and Bossuet leant his forehead against Joly's, their noses almost touching.
- See ? Bossuet asked. I'm fine. There's no way I could kiss you if I wasn't.
- You kiss me even when you're hurt. Or, he added after a second, you would never kiss me !
- You scoundrel ! And here I was going to be a good boyfriend and ask if you wanted to watch some Dr Who reruns. I may even have located the non-canon movie. But since you're so cruel with me...
- Too late !
Joly grabbed the remote from between the cushions where it was stashed, out of reach from curious paws, and brandished it.
- I am now owner of the remote, and I get to decide what we watch !
- Oh well, I surrender. Allons-y, then !
Joly comfortably settled back against him and turned on the TV, quickly navigating the menus until he found the movie. As the first notes of the vanity plate rang through the room, he nestled more against Bossuet, enjoying the warmth of his cup on his fingers, and the comforting, solid presence at his side. And if he sometimes abandonned the Doctor to his Daleks to check on Bossuet's hand, its owner was delicate enough not to say anything and to let him do to his heart's content. And for that, he would always say that he was the very luckiest man in the world, to have found the unluckiest and most adorable boyfriend in the world.
Summary: When Princess needs his help Murder Panther undergoes a trial by fire and comes out soft and gooey. Like a marshmallow. A really sexy, highly dangerous marshmallow.
WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and 'the code is more like guidelines' outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???
NO SMUT, usage of names, mild groping (he’s still Diego), illness and medical establishments, plus size woman+fit man, secretly competent Diego!, helpless Princess, bad boys with too much money and not enough impulse control, secondary OCs, excessive swearing (???), illegal business dealings... I mean, its DIEGO
A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!
I'm not a fan of "plot" so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.
Diego had received the normal text from his Princess, a simple and efficient 'here' attached to a selfie. This Friday the selfie was in his bed, that mane of ringlets tossed up over the pillow and those deep blue eyes half closed in relaxation. There was nothing sexual about it, hell, he couldn't even see her lips, and it still made him half hard. What if I could see that every day? In person, right next to her? I must convince her to quit that stupid little job.
Groaning softly, he flips the phone to be held horizontally in his left hand while the right presses the heel of his palm into his burgeoning erection. He cannot wait to bury himself into that soft little body; fingers, tongue, dick, anything. She is the softest woman he has ever touched, even her tiny little feet are soft, it is maddening. He slouches down into the backseat to relieve some of the pressure from his pants.
"You want me to stop anywhere, boss?" Bastian asks from the driver's seat. Bastian is a good kid, he follows orders, he is efficient, he even anticipates needs like this, offering to get food on the way home. He looks nothing like his uncle. Julio always did say that his little sister liked blondes and Bastian was living proof.
"No, I will see what she wants to do first." Diego wants to get his hands on Princess more than he wants food.
Julio chuckles from the front seat, "His dinner is already at home, eh?" He's been with Diego for twenty years, he knows how this goes down.
"One can only hope." Diego mutters as he flips through the 'Pretty Princess' photo album in the phone's gallery. Sure, there are the expected compromising pictures (much to his delight, she enjoys posing seductively at any level of undress), but many are shots of her laughing, being excited at a new restaurant, snuggled into his side at some scenic location perfect for a couples' pic.
A couple. Is that what they are? Does he want that? (Yes) Can I have that? (I will). He hasn't wanted any of what used to be his regular girls in… six months. Sure, Franchesca and, and whatever-her-face-is accompanied him to some club events, he even let Franchesca blow him in the car. But it wasn't until he closed his eyes and saw another gaze, drowning blue and dark as ink, that he came. Vocally. Franchesca at least knew better than to comment. That was the last time.
He wants this. He wants Princess. His Princess. How, he has no idea, but he assumes he'll figure it out. He has figured out how to survive his sister and his profession all the way to age 42. He has figured it out so far and he has no plans to stop now.
That book about relationships and autism spectrum really helped, maybe there are other similar books that he can get. Is there a book on how to get women to admit feelings? There has to be a book on something so… unusual, yes?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The elevator dings and he steps out before the doors are fully open. The common area is dark and quiet. "Princess?" He calls. Nothing.
Maybe she is still in the bed waiting for me. The image throws him into rapid motion; the jacket is tossed over the back of the sofa and he pulls the gun out of his belt to place it on the breakfast bar as he passes by. With huge strides, he hurdles up the stairs and into the bedroom.
The small lamp on the nightstand is at the lowest setting, turned to a faint aqua color. She does love fiddling with the ridiculous color options. Her bag is on the floor in front of the closet along with her purse, shoes, and a trail of clothing to the bed.. Odd, she always places everything just so. Never just, just dropped… anywhere.
Princess is in the bed… but she is asleep.
Diego pushes his shoes off and pads over to her side of the bed. Her glasses are on the nightstand and next to them the gemstone ring he gave her is threaded onto one of the diamond tennis bracelet for safekeeping. It makes him smile, how thoughtfully she cares for his gifts.
"Princess?" She winces at his soft rumble and cracks one eye open. "What's wrong?" He reaches out to touch her hair and she flinches away. Ouch, what the hell?
She holds out a hand, he takes that instead. "Baby?" Her voice is so quiet he can barely hear her. Something is very wrong.
Kneeling to the floor, Diego rests his chin on the bed directly in front of her face and waits. He has learned that if it's something physical that is bothering her he can simply wait her out. Each time that he has tried this it resulted in a shorter wait period the next time and a less agitated Princess. He's not sure if he is training her or if maybe it's the other way around.
Her fingers curl around his thumb, small but strong. Finally, she opens her mouth, "I have a migraine. Was fine earlier, but police lights. On whatever bridge. We sat for like ten minutes, Bastian couldn't get out of the traffic. I took medicine, but I need to sleep." She pauses, her eyes closed tightly and brow furrowed. Her breathing is shallow, like she is trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, baby." She whimpers, and then a real tear does escape.
"No no no, Princess. No crying. Please do not." The absolute last thing Diego can deal with today is that pretty little face all red and messy with tears. She sniffles but doesn't move away when he wipes the tears with his thumbs. Those blue eyes are watching him very closely.
"Are--" she licks her lips and tries again, "Are you mad at me?" Her high voice cracks at the end and she blinks back more tears. Apprehension is coming off of her in waves.
Diego cocks his head, trying to understand where this question comes from. "You… think I will be mad at you for being ill?" Slowly, he leans closer to her while she nods tightly with a tiny 'mm hmm' of affirmation. When she huddles into herself, almost hiding under the covers, understanding begins to bloom. "Have other people gotten mad at you for becoming ill?"
Princess swallows hard, her eyes slide away from his. She is embarrassed. Someone has managed to shame her into feeling guilty about a hereditary illness she has no control over. He can feel rage climbing up inside his chest.
"Y-y-yeah. It's really inconvenient. I ruin p-plans like this. I'm sorry." Her voice is muffled by the covers. She picks at the stitching on the sheet, snapping her nail back and forth over the threads in a nervous tic.
Right now, I am doing the training because this needs to be broken. Immediately. He takes a deep breath, "No, Princess. No one can be mad at you for suffering from a condition you cannot control. That is ridiculous. I could never be angry at you for getting sick." He tries very hard to sound soothing and not like he's about to reprimand a ludicrous child. Slowly, he pulls the sheet down until her entire face is visible. Her eyes flick back to him, then away again. "Aqui." She obeys the command thoughtlessly, locking on his gaze. Diego raises a brow in question.
Princess huffs a soft sigh, then whispers, "Okay." Her face smooths out, eyebrows straightening and lips relaxing back to their normal fullness. Her little nose even unwrinkles as she eases. She must decide she buys it, because next she timidly asks, "Will you bring me a Coke?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diego gets her settled with her phone (which he silences) and the small bottle of Coke (opened downstairs so the noise doesn't hurt her). When she pulled herself upright to drink he realized she was still dressed so he got her into pajamas, it was odd putting clothing onto her instead of taking it off. She kept her eyes closed and allowed him to move her around like a ragdoll, relaxed and trusting.
The tightness in his chest only worsened when she crawled into his lap and nuzzled into him with a plaintive, "Hold me." Princess wasn't really a cuddly type of girl, so he knew this was bad. After ten minutes she was done with the 'mushy stuff' as she referred to it. He let her get situated then went downstairs with instructions to check on her in two hours.
Diego spent the time researching migraines, her medication, and other possible treatments. Julio came and went with dinner, cheesesteaks that Princess had mentioned long before the police strobe lights.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The required two hours have passed, Diego swears it was two days long, so he heads upstairs to check on her. Princess is on her stomach, head turned to the left, and her mouth hanging open. His hand lands softly on her shoulder while he calls her, "Princess?"
Nothing happens.
He tries again, just a little louder, "Princess? Hey, mirame." Still no response. She is a light sleeper, this is highly unusual. And he is beginning to be concerned.
Diego nudges her shoulder, then, when he gets nothing, pushes until she rolls over. She doesn't even make a sound. Shit. Shit shit shit.
"Hey! Bicki! Wake up, come on." Her lashes flutter and she makes a whiny noise. Sitting on the bed, he hauls her into his lap so she leans back against his left arm. Tapping her cheek with his right hand gets a semi-verbal response.
"Dieg.. Where. I'm. Can't." She slurs and burrows into his chest. "Too brigh. Is brigh." Her voice is so quiet he can barely understand her. Her tiny hands are fisted in his shirt, hanging on for dear life.
He grips her jaw in his right hand and turns her head to face him. "Princess? Can you tell me?" She's struggling through his name, like her tongue is too big for her mouth. "Yes, it's me. It's your Diego. We're home, in bed. You're safe." Her brow furrows as she processes this information. It takes three times longer than it should, he hasn't seen anyone this fucked up in a long time. Its terrifying.
Finally, her hands in his shirt ease their grip and she looks around the room. "Diego?" She is squinting hard, blinking slowly.
"Right here, Princess." Turning her to face him, he can see that her eyes are completely unfocused, pupils so small they're barely visible in a sea of grayish blue. Her hands come up to touch his face and she makes a tiny noise of distress.
"Baby. Can't see. I can't." Her whisper fades as she goes limp, eyes rolling up. Her breathing stays even, if shallow, so he doesn't panic. Yet. She said she does this, that she will black out. Her whole family does it. Her sisters, her niece, her mom… HER MOM.
Hit by sudden inspiration, Diego whips around to her phone on the nightstand and snatches it up. Her mom. Her mom would know what to do, right? Easing her deadweight back to the bed, he makes sure she is breathing easily, then turns back to her phone. He unlocks her cell with his left hand while digging his out of his right pocket. There, at the top of her contacts labeled 'Emergency', Mom. Dad. Diego. He ignores the sharp flutter in his chest at seeing himself as her emergency contact, and opens up the Mom item. Before he can second guess himself, he taps in the number in on his own phone and hits the green button. She better know who I am or this is going to be a disaster.
It rings twice before a remarkably similar voice answers, "Hello?"
Shit, now what?
"Hello, is, is this Kat?" Fuck. Shit. Damnit Diego.
"Yes…?" It really is startling how similar their voices are.
"I do not know if you know who I am, my name is Diego and I--"
"Diego! Ohhh, I know who you are." She laughs lowly, just like Princess. He notes the fact that she recognizes him instantly for later discussion.
"I apologize for calling like this, but I need your help." He tries not to sound scared. He does not get scared.
"What's wrong? Is she okay? Are you okay?" Apparently he failed. Her mom, Kat, knows instantly that something is amiss.
"She said she had a migraine and took her medicine. Now, I cannot get her to wake up fully and she keeps repeating that she can't see. I don't know what to do, I've never seen her like this. Please." It all comes out in a rush, he hopes she can understand his rapidly thickening accent.
"Okay, first of all, take a deep breath." Do I sound that panicked? Should I be panicked?!? "This isn't that unusual for her more severe migraines. As long as she keeps breathing. Is her breathing fairly normal?"
He watches her chest rise and fall at regular intervals. "I, err, yes? It's a bit fast, but even."
"Good. That's good, Diego. She is not going to like this, but you have to take her to the ER."
"Okay. I can do that. Yes." Wait, what do you do when you take someone to the ER?
"Okay, listen. You have to tell them that she's had these since she was a kid. She takes the highest tablet dosage of imitrex, tell them what time she took it. She needs the shots, yes she has had them before, no drug allergies. Under no circumstances do you tell them that she blacked out or they will admit her. Also, no chance of pregnancy, they'll ask that. If they think she might be pregnant then they won't treat her."
THEY WHAT.
"What do you mean? Won't give her the shots? If she might be pregnant? What shots?" Diego is very confused. This is a lot of information in a very short time and all of it is very important. Why would that matter?
"Hospitals will not give medications to pregnant women. Only tylenol, generally. And that isn't going to help." Her mom sounds like this topic has been thoroughly debated in their household.
"Okay. No pregnancy. No black out. Have been having these her whole life, need shots, have had those before. I have the bottle of ...imitrex? I should take it along?" He ticks each item off on a mental list. "Actually, could you text all of... that?" He most definitely does not want them to admit her.
"Of course. And taking the bottle is perfect, that's quick thinking. What time did she take it?"
What time did she take that?? She had already taken it when he got home. "Sometime before seven…? Yes. Between six and seven."
"One last thing, I want you to be prepared. Its two shots, a sedative and a pain medication, but they'll put it in her butt."
That's… interesting. "In her butt?? She won't even let me put something in her butt." He mutters petulantly.
Her mom is sputtering with laughter. "Oh, I see why this relationship works. Wow. This is perfect."
"Err, is there anything else? I've never been to an ER, so. Um." Something about the way she sounds just like Princess puts him at ease, like he doesn't need to worry about impressing her.
"No. I'll text you the list after we hang up. Just let me know how she is tomorrow, okay? I know you'll take care of her, Diego."
"Yes, I will. Thank you." He ends the call and texts Julio to get up here now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ER is pandemonium and Princess is extremely unhappy to be there. She is curled into his side, trying to hide from the noise and the light, while Bastian fills out forms for her. Julio thought to bring her purse, it was a very good idea since her entire identity is in there. When Bastian hands over the forms to the desk the nurse sees Princess's hospital work badge in his hand with her ID and she magically shoots to the top of the waitlist.
The nurses come to take her into the back, they bring her a wheelchair which she grumbles about but goes willingly when Diego pushes her into the seat. He wants to go with her, but he isn't family. If this were anyone else he would do whatever he wants, but this is his Princess. The thought of breaking her trust by violating her privacy is unbearable, anything like this has never been discussed.
They barely disappear around the corner before a nurse comes right back.
"Alright. Which one is Diego? She will not shut up and she will not calm down. Come with me." The nurse grabs his arm and practically drags him for a few steps until his longer legs catch up.
They go into a curtained room where one nurse is trying to manhandle yoga pants down well-rounded hips and another is opening prefilled syringes. Princess is swiping at the unfamiliar hands on her body, unbalanced and jumpy. Little noises of fear escape from her lips in high pitches, her head is down and her eyes are closed tightly against the florescent lighting. Diego suddenly remembers that she can't see. She is terrified.
"Princess?" The second he touches her with one hand she dives into him. Her own little hands claw into his shirt and she tries to mold her body to his. "I'm here. You're safe." Wrapping arms around her, he holds her still tightly. She nods against his chest and relaxes a tiny bit.
The nurse with the syringes looks pointedly at Princess's butt, then back up at him. Oh. Right. Sliding one hand down her back, he inserts fingers into the back of her pants and eases the elastic waistband down. "Its just me," he whispers into her hair as she trembles in his hold. The strong muscles of her butt twitch, but she doesn't fight him. She trusts me.
Its over in under five seconds, both shots and both bandaids, one set on each side. She jumps with each injection but can't seem to process what happened fast enough to respond appropriately.
The nurse doesn't even bother to look up from cleaning the table. "Okay, take her home and put her to bed. She'll sleep for the next eight hours."
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's it?"
"Yep, thanks for your help."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Princess succumbs to the sedative halfway home and Diego has to carry her to bed. She really does sleep for most of Saturday. He keeps going in to check on her, she is completely limp and doesn't change position once. Its a bit disturbing how helpless she is like this. Has she had to do this alone before? Or, worse yet, with the awful ex?
He stays right beside her after that.
When she finally wakes her eyes are normal again and she immediately reaches out for him. "Diego?"
Her little question makes him smile warmly.
"Right here, Princess. Welcome back." He rumbles softly, unsure if sound still hurts her. Stroking one hand down her back makes her arch up into his caress. So beautiful.
She squints up at him through the curtain of her hair. Slowly, Princess rises to all fours, then eases back to sit. "I…" she blinks at him. "I have to pee."
Okay, so awake but not totally coherent yet. She requires a little assistance in the bathroom, mostly a steady arm to lean on, but they manage it with only mild to moderate giggles and one bruise-inducing bump to the corner of the counter.
She stumbles back to bed, collapses face down, sticks her left arm out in his general direction, and wiggles fingers at him then back at herself.
"Take the stupid bandaids off. Shit itches."
Oh yes, finally time to touch the butt.
Diego sits on the bed beside her, one hip pressed up against her own. He firmly strokes both hands down her back just to hear her deep moan of pleasure. She arches up when he reaches the curve of her ass. Oh good, she is feeling better. Fuck that, she feels amazing, he chuckles at his own joke but doesn't pause in gently groping her. The silky panties slide easily over her cheeks, the sight makes his mouth water. The pale skin is only marred by the bandaids, so he pulls them both off in rapid succession then smooths fingers over the red marks.
"Mmmmm," she moans with the gentle treatment, "Thank you for taking care of me. That's the first time someone other than my parents did that for me. How did you know to take me to the ER, anyway?" Her voice is muffled in the pillow, soft and sleepy and content.
Diego absent-mindedly runs a finger down the crack of her ass, feather light. "Your mom told me what to do when I called her."
"YOU CALLED MY MOM?!?!"
Judging by her volume, apparently no, sound does not hurt her anymore.
“I just don’t want to. Please don’t make me. Please”
“Snow, stop being a drama queen and get dressed or I’ll drag you there in what you’re wearing now”
I’m only wearing a towel. I don’t think I believe him but it’s best not to push Baz too far when he wants to show off a look. I do not want to show off a look. I want to sit on the sofa in my Harry Potter pyjamas, drinking hot chocolate and watching Arthur Christmas. Or maybe Wallace and Gromit.
“Can’t I just wear my normal clothes then?” I’m willing to compromise a bit.
“No Snow, your clothes are largely horrible and belong to other people. This is a party. I know the theme is hellish but we’re all suffering the same”
“Your not fucking suffering” I can’t help whining like a brat “you look amazing”
He does. I mean he always does. But tonight more than usual. Penny has spelled his hair lilac and he’s wearing a mint green leather jacket with tiny silver studs over a white t shirt. The absolute bastard has had the cheek to wear light pink jeans and blue oxfords. He looks like a delicious macaron. He looks like a classy sweet shop. I absolutely do not want to wear what he’s chosen for me. I’ll look like a twat.
Baz
I wanted to make him a bit uncomfortable and I wanted to have a bit of a fight. These are things I very much enjoy doing to Simon. It will make for more fun later. Also the outfit I’ve chosen for him is gorgeous and I’m dying to see his arse in black leather trousers. I went simple for his look. You don’t need to do much with him, he’s too beautiful to be allowed out anyway.
He’s grumbling but getting dressed finally.
Bunce sticks her head around the door “Ready? Let’s get this over and done with”
“Coming now” I slap Simon on his leather covered arse and I wish I hadn’t, it’s too tempting.
Shep looks like a care bear. Pastel is not his thing. Penny looks dangerous and pissed off. She wasn’t sure about the black corset but it looks divine on her. She’s yanking at her fishnets hard enough to rip even more holes. Penny hates dressing up almost as much as Simon.
Crowley only knows why we accepted the invitation to Agatha’s stupid pastel/punk party. Then Simon comes out with his hair slicked back, thin black v neck t shirt loosely tucked in his leather trousers and I remember why.
Hmm..random question! What type of roller coasters would each merc like?
Oh! Nice question
Scout: Any kind!! He and his brothers used to go to a little carnival that came to his town every few months, he loved the adrenaline rush he gets. He doesnt really go on any as often anymore except for when he manages to convince the other merc to stop by the occasional fair or amusement park while on the way back from an out of town mission.
Pyro: Pyro likes roller coasters cuz they go really fast! But he isnt really allowed on them anymore after he almost set one on fire. So he just rides the merry go round instead
Demo: Not to much of a fan of roller coasters anymore after he rode one and got horribly sick everywhere. So he just rides the bumper cars instead.
Soldier: Like Demo, Solly used to like riding roller coasters but he doesnt ride them anymore after an incident where a certain scottish Cyclops "promised" he "wasnt drunk" only to get sick on the ride with solly right next to him. He now chooses to ride bumper cars with Demo instead.
Engineer: He doesnt really enjoy roller coasters or any type of ride for that matter. He's got a pretty weak stomach when it comes to fast moving rides. Though he might ride the merry go round with Pyro every so often.
Heavy: He's never ridden one due to his large size, plus he's just a little bit afraid of heights so he prefers the ground.
Medic, Spy, Sniper: These three however Despise roller coasters They very much prefer to stay on the ground where its safe then ride in some metal cart of death at 100 mph. Though Scout managed to convince Spy once to give a coaster a try. Spy no longer trusts scouts judgment.
This story is driving me nuts. So I turn to Photoshop. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I'm losing my mind
Don't leave me behind
We need a bit more time
You don't have to be the brave one every time
I know you wanna make it right
You wanna make
It's a lie for a lie and I'm getting tired
On the other side, on the other side
Jack likes to randomly give you chaste smooches on the cheek to cheer you up.
You’re not sure how he seems to know when you’re feeling a bit more exhausted than usual but a little peck seems to help give you a little booster to help you make it through the day.
It’s really nice and gives you a little injection of gleeful butterflies in your stomach.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Characters: Tony Stark, Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Jarvis (Iron Man movies)
Additional Tags: Fluff, References to Norse Religion & Lore, I Don't Even Know, i just wanted to write this, FrostIron - Freeform, Tony/Loki - Freeform, Arguing as communication, It was stuck in my brain and I wanted to get it out, I hope someone else enjoys this
Summary:
“So don't let me down again, praise me, free me
So don't let me down again, you're key to my disaster
So don't let me down again, blame me, bleed me
So don't let me down again, you're key to my disaster”
-Seether, My Disaster
Takes place after "Let Me Heal". A tiny bit of world-building, but mostly just dumb fluff.
