#this fandom needs fluff

[arwenkenobi48]

You Came Back For Me: A Talion/Ratbag Oneshot

Inspired by these songs <3 Every fandom needs fluff-fics :)

The day had started out as it usually did. Clans of Orcs from across Mordor were after Talion, every single one wanting to bask in the glory of killing him. This might sound like something that never happens, but for Talion, it was part of a grim routine. He was running, sprinting across open plains, the wind whipping through his short straight black hair. Only one companion ran by his side; a small, scrawny excuse for an Orc named Ratbag. "We can't outrun 'em, ranger!" Ratbag's voice rose a few octaves as he struggled to speak while hyperventilating from exertion. A group of archers were pursuing the two fugitives, bows and arrows at the ready. Every now and then, an arrow narrowly missed their heads, making Ratbag flinch in terror and Talion's heartbeat quicken. "For once, Ratbag, I agree with you!" said Talion. "We're sitting ducks out here in the open!" "We gotta find some cover!" Ratbag's yellow eyes darted this way and that, before settling on an outcrop which had once been a stone fortress. The unlikely allies headed towards it.

Dashing behind a stone wall, Ratbag was unable to stop himself from trembling. "What we gon' do, ranger? They're gonna kill us!" He squeaked in terror. "Ratbag, listen to me," said Talion calmly. "Stay out of sight and don't move. Those Uruks want me and that's who they'll get," He drew out his sword. Ratbag smirked, confident that Talion would slaughter their adversaries. "Splendid. You can count on me, ranger," "I hope so," said Talion thoughtfully. He emerged from behind the wall, sword in hand. "The Gravewalker!" Shouted one of the Uruks. Sword at the ready, Talion let out a roar as he charged at his opponents. As Ratbag crouched behind the wall, he waited in anticipation, listening to the sound of metal colliding with metal. He could hear the cries of Orcs as they gurgled their last breaths, before falling dead by Talion's sword. Then he heard the screams as the surviving Orcs retreated and emerged from his place of refuge, Ratbag saw Talion standing there, surrounded by corpses. The mysterious man sheathed his sword. "Well done, ranger!" Ratbag grinned. "You got 'em good, you did!" The small Orc could never have anticipated what came next.

All of a sudden, they both spotted a figure slip out of sight atop a stone platform. His weapon ready, Talion steathily climbed up to face the new foe. Ratbag watched from the ground, his heart pounding. As Talion raised his sword, his pale blue eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to detect something, anything. Ratbag saw it before Talion did. A lone archer fitting an arrow to his bow. "Ranger, look ou-!" It was too late. The arrow hit its target. With a gasp, Talion plummeted to the ground. "RANGER!" Almost fainting with terror, Ratbag ran to his companion's side. "Talion! Oh, shrakh! Can you hear me?" Ratbag desperately tried to lift Talion's body with his weak arms. The man's eyes were closed and he wasn't responding. Ratbag felt fury surge through his body. "Come on, ya bastard!" He shouted, tears springing to his eyes as he shook Talion's limp form. "Come on! Get up! Talion, wake up, you glob! Don't do this to me!" His anger gave way to despair. As tears poured down his sallow cheeks, Ratbag cradled Talion's body, whispering over and over again: "No, no, not you, ranger. Not you, of all people. Talion, please. Please don't leave me. Do something, say something, anything! Please, wake up!"

Through the eyes of the wraith that inhabited his body - Celebrimbor - Talion watched as Ratbag sobbed hysterically, begging the lifeless corpse beside him to move. "Do you think this was a wise decision?" He asked the wraith. "I should have informed him this was going to happen." "Keeping Ratbag on the outside was critical," Celebrimbor coldly replied. "It was his reaction that sold the archer. Now word will spread that the Gravewalker has been killed, the Orcs will let their guards down, giving us the perfect opportunity to defeat them." Talion glared at Celebrimor. "We shouldn't have done this!" He hissed. "It's one thing to use an Orc, but they're not mindless minions for us to control! Look at what this plan of yours has done to Ratbag! He's brokenhearted!" They both watched as Ratbag, exhausted from his own tears, lay down beside Talion's corpse and closed his eyes. "If you weren't the key to my survival, I would prefer not to see you again," Talion glared at his companion. "This plan will grant us great power," Celebrimbor tried to reason with him. "But at what cost?" Talion demanded.

"This war my cost us valuable alliances, but we will forge stronger ones," Celebrimor insisted. "Our goal is not to play a political game!" Talion pointed out. "If we lose the trust of what few allies we have, our goals will be harder to achieve. I'm going back. I can't stand to watch Ratbag suffer any longer." "Do what you must," Celebrimbor murmured. Talion inhaled deeply and felt his soul slowly entering his body again. He was so used to travelling between the Wraith world and the human world that he hardly noticed it anymore. He wasn't doing this for Celebrimor anymore. He was doing it for Ratbag.

Night had fallen and all was silent. Ratbag, who had cried himself to sleep, was awakened from a horrific nightmare - in which he was forced to watch Talion being executed in public while his fellow Orcs laughed - by a hand stroking his cheek. "Ratbag, it's alright," Ratbag opened one eye and look up at Talion, who was sitting upright beside him. "It's just a dream," he mumbled sadly, rubbing his eyes. "No, no, it isn't," said Talion gently. "I didn't die, Ratbag. That was only a nightmare," Ratbag sat up and pinched the back of his hand. Finally, he realised that he wasn't dreaming. "Talion!" He flung his arms around the ranger in a tight hug. Talion gasped as the breath was almost squeezed from his lungs. "Don't scare me like that, ya big glob!" Ratbag glared at Talion, then as his emotions shifted again, "You really had Ratbag there, ranger. Thought I'd lost you 'n' ev'rything," He scrubbed the tears from his eyes, desperately trying to conceal his emotion. "Shhh, it'll be alright," Talion murmured, stroking his cheek again. "You don't have to be scared,"

Shaking slightly, Ratbag asked "Talion, y-your death, was it really just a bad dream?" "Yes, yes it was," Talion replied, wrapping his arms around the small Orc in a warm hug. For a few minutes, silence fell over them both. Ratbag lay with his head pressed against Talion's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He'd never been so relieved to hear it; that sign that someone was alive. Physical affection wasn't something that Orcs were big on, to say the least. But all of his life, Ratbag had been starving for it. Just that feeling of being held by gentle hands whenever he felt small (which he often did). And now Talion, the closest thing he had to a friend, was holding him. He might not be the best at expressing his emotions, but Ratbag would lay down his life for Talion. The man was dearer to him than anything in Middle Earth. "You know something, Ratbag?" Talion's soft baritone voice broke the silence. "Yeah?" "That's the first time you've called me by my real name," Ratbag smirked. "Figured I had to," he muttered. "Bit confusing when there's other rangers in Mordor. But you, Talion, you aren't like the others," "How so?" Talion asked. Ratbag smiled. "Because you came back for me," he whispered.

~The End~

[carminesbodycollecter]

The Antiviral fandom needs more fics so this is the brain child of a night spent trying to convince myself to go to sleep and failing miserably. I regret nothing.

Waking up to a freezing, rather bare apartment had become increasingly normal for Topp, not that he minded. It was cute. A small smile spread across his face as he looked over at Syd, who, as usual, had stolen nearly all of the pristine white blankets (well not so pristine any more, not after the previous night) and wrapped himself up in them. All the other man could see of Syd was a tuft of disheveled red hair and the gentle rise and fall of the covers.

Their relationship had been secret from Lucas for years, confined to conversations in line while they waited for merchandise. Interoffice relationships were forbidden which made things difficult. However, now that Syd had taken a job at Vole and Tesser, that had changed. Sure, consorting with the employee of a rival company was frowned upon, but not an offense that would get either of them fired.

"Wake up, kid," he chuckled, reaching over and giving Syd's shoulder a small shake, or at least the part of the mass of blankets Topp was pretty sure his boyfriend's shoulder would be. It was hard to tell what body part was what when Syd went into 'March-mallow mode.' The other absolutely hated the phrase, but it fit so well that Topp couldn't help but tease him.

A small, muffled groan answered him, followed by a loud sneeze. Instantly, the technician was on his feet, pulling on a discarded pair of grey sweatpants. He couldn't remember any major celebrities being sick at the moment (a small blow to his chosen career path, but it would pick up, it always did). However, with Syd's thin body and almost complete lack of functioning immune system, the kid had probably picked it up walking down the street.

Topp moved to the other side of the bed, kneeling down and placing a hand on Syd's forehead. "You're on fire," he said, half concerned, half chastising.

Syd peeked out from his mountain of blankets to give Topp that pouting glare he was so good at along with a series of muttered words that sounded disturbingly close to "I'm fine" and "Leave me alone."

With a small shake of his head, Topp stood and walked into the sparse kitchen, digging in the cabinets for something to help. Considering the myriad of pills, there had to be at least one thing that would make Syd's fever go down.

"Don't you have work?"

Topp spun around to see Syd leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like he was about to collapse. One strap of his white tank top fell off one of the younger man's thin, much too thin, shoulders while his black sleep pants clung to the pale, sharp hips for dear life.

"Not for another hour," Topp replied, finally pulling out a bottle of antipyretics, "go back to bed. I'll make breakfast."

He glanced up to make sure that Syd was heading back toward the bedroom. No such luck. Instead, the younger man did the exact opposite, silently stumbling over to Topp and taking the pills. He swallowed them dry, the barest traces of a grimace on his face. Next, he moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice and a prepackaged egg salad sandwich.

"Oh no you don't," Topp interrupted, placing a hand on Syd's and slipping the 'meal' out of his grasp. "What did I just say about breakfast?" Honestly, the kid could be so stubborn sometimes. For his effort, he received another annoyed pout that then turned to Syd's usual aloof expression.

"This is breakfast," the smaller replied, trying to take the sandwich back, but Topp was faster and pulled it out of Syd's reach. In his half awake, ill state, the redhead didn't have the energy to chase after it so simply leaned against the counter. Everything was spinning and his whole body felt as though it was pitching slightly to the left.

Topp shook his head and smiled, leaning over to kiss Syd's cheek. The younger male gave him a small glare but didn't pull away, simply brushed his fingers over Topp's. This was the closest thing to an intimate action Syd performed outside of the bedroom and, after so long, Topp had become very good a reading his lover's subtle expressions. "Now go steal all the covers again, I'll be there in a few minutes."

For a moment, Syd looked as though he was going to protest, then a violent coughing fit shook his body and he gave Topp a weak nod. The other man gently helped Syd stumble back over and made sure he was laying down before returning to the kitchen.

The smell of eggs, bacon, and toast filled the small apartment as Topp cooked. Soon, he had a small plate filled with food, and, before turning to the bedroom he grabbed a small bottle of orange juice.

When he walked in, he could see Syd curled up under the blankets again, facing the opposite wall. Smiling softly, he set the plate on top of the mini-fridge Syd refused to get rid of, along with the juice.

Leaning down, he pressed a small kiss to the sleeping man's forehead. However, he could have sworn he heard a muffled "thank you" as the bedroom door closed behind him.