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11 and 16, ednove and tamluc for whichever number

fuckin u picked hard number/ship combos wtf dickhole

11.

the party stalks back to where they’d last made camp, all silent after a particularly demanding encounter with a band of rebel mages. tam pressed his forearm his side, thinking maker if i bleed out and die in the fucking hinterlands… by the time they’d made it all the way back, he was light-headed, dizzily throwing himself into one of the tents. he sat for a moment, head spinning, trying not to pass out before even beginning to think about addressing the gaping wound right below his ribs. he let his eyes close, tipped his head back and just breathed in the rusty scent of drying blood.

“that was pretty fucking idiotic.” tam hadn’t heard anyone come in, but he opened his eyes to see jean-luc, armor all still on except for the helmet. he looked weary, gaunt and pale with dark and puffy eyes.

tam looked up at him. “could’ve been worse,” he noted. “could’ve been you.”

something changes about jean-luc, something in his eyes is suddenly different. he regards tam with a certain intensity, a slight furrow in his brows. “you don’t have to protect me,” he says. he looks like he wants to add something else, something he can’t quite articulate.

tam sighs, “yes, i do,” and there’s so much more than just those three words, so much hanging palpably in the air that goes unsaid. but jean-luc understands.

16.

“i did a pregnancy test,” jean-luc announces, coming out of the bathroom holding a plastic white stick.

tam smirks without looking up from his laptop. “was it positive? are we gonna be daddies?” and then suddenly, his head snaps up, smirk gone and replaced with a more serious look. “wait, shit. seriously was it positive? because that could be ball cancer. fuck, do you have ball cancer?” he said it all lightly, still joking but with an undertone of anxiety, an unnoticeable base of what if?

jean-luc begins, “it was…”

a pause.

jean-luc straight-faced, tam narrowing his eyes slightly with the beginnings of possible panic.

“…not,” jean-luc continues, breaking character. “it was not.”

tam throws the nearest thing his hands can find (a water bottle). “asshole! fuck, don’t scare me like that.”

(later, jean-luc asks, “were you, like, for real scared?” tam answers, “i don’t know, i guess not. still: dick move.”)

#these are both garbage but u brought this on urself #pick other ones for ednove n i'll do those too tho #tam luc.#(t)#rabramovich #also fyi the first one is inquisition au in case u couldnt tell

you spend the better part of an hour shaking and swallowing down your nausea. avery, with her head tucked into the crook of your neck and her arms wrapped around your waist, says, "you know you don't have to do this now."

"no, i do. it's important."

she hums. "you're right, it is important. but you don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

you don't reply. swallow hard in response.

she says, "do you want me to come with you?"

"yes. please."

///

avery holds your hand while you ring the doorbell. squeezes gently when your breathing gets uneven.

jean-luc opens the door. lucky. you try to think of it as lucky. take your small miracles where you can get them these days. jean-luc grins and you manage a shaky smile. "hey, guy!" he goes in for a hug. stops when you back out of his vicinity.

"is alek home?"

"no, why?" lucky.

"i need to talk to you."

avery lets your hand go, says, "do you want me to wait outside?" you nod. she taps her ear, and you nod again.

you step into jean-luc's apartment. he shuts the door behind you, asks, "are you okay?"

not really, you tell him. you pace a little. your hands shake. you wish you'd had a drink or ten like you always did at jean-luc's apartment, you wish you could get that comfortable again. (but, you tell yourself, a drink or ten means you don't have to deal with your emotions. and that's the whole problem.) you pace a little more, and the whole apartment has a somewhat threatening air to it now. you can't bring yourself to sit.

you look at jean-luc and your chest gets tight. "i have a problem. a drinking problem." the room gets hot. your stomach churns. "i had a drinking problem long before we met. and i didn't destroy any families or anything, but i probably got close." you inhale a big jagged heave. "i... put myself in danger. i blacked out a lot and ended up in... completely other universe. for weeks sometimes. it was irresponsible. i was irresponsible." your face gets hot. your eyes well up with tears. "i didn't want to deal with my shit, you know my life and my feelings and whatever--" (you think: i don't have to explain this to you. but you do.) "-- so i drank until it didn't matter. and then i picked up smoking and binge eating. and it was all okay because it was funny. because i made it funny. because i made the jokes. but that didn't make it okay." your chest gets tighter. constricts around your lungs. your heart beats fast. "and now i'm trying to get better. i fucked up and i'm trying to make it right again. that's why i have to tell you this. that and because i love you. i really mean it, fully sober." tears stream down your face without your permission. "and our whole fucking relationship was based on drunk me. and, you know, that's not right. you know what i mean?"

[...]

#tam.#tam luc.#(t)