#with sarge

[theofaronarchive]

John and Mick are at it again. John comes back for round two, and Mick intends to give it to him.

[theofaronarchive]

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

Since people asked, here’s the John/Mick from last night :O

[theofaronarchive]

When Ethan accidentally hits Mick and gives the other a concussion, things get awkward. This is a co written piece

[theofaronarchive]

Threesomes? Threesomes.

Mick: Nervous nervous nervous nervous. He's been with Jaime before. And he knows how this whole thing works. M's on top, everyone else on bottom. But...he invited the Wife. That's...he's not surre what to do abouth that. 

He's nervous with new partners, and well, he's not quite sure how to start except wait in his room. This is fun. This is great. This is making him panic. Oh well, time to get this started. 

Jaime: Jaime, unlike Mick, is nowhere near as panicked about this situation. It's almost like he's got more experience, which is a funny thought, indeed. He enters quietly after drying off once getting through the Door, and he just shrugged on a robe to move back to Mick's room. This is a surprise. He didn't expect this, but he's not opposed at all. Without hesitation, he shrugs his robe off and leaves it folded somewhere before stepping closer to Mick with a small, tentative smile. It's one that's an attempt to cut nerves, even if only a tiny bit.

Letta: Scarlett stepped in, a bit hesitant herself. She knew Mick pretty well, but this was sort of spontaneous. She's not opposed at all, but it is very different than what she's used to. They were cool naked around each other, so why not? She just kind of stands there, not entirely sure what to do with her life at the moment.

Mick: "Mind the chest hair, yeah?" He should have shaved while he waited. DAMN IT. "Okay. Deep breaths. I'm sure we've all done this before, right? It's...not a new thing," he says that, but he is damn nervous. Jaime's closeness doesn't exactly help. "I don't know your preference, Let. But I usually sit on top. I can switch if you need." Aww, that's considerate coming from him. Usually he just goes. "Jaime? You wanna start anything?"

Jaime: "You make this so awkward." Jaime's voice is lower than usual, a bit quieter. He's clearly concerned with getting the mood on track, since nobody else is doing so. That falls to him, amazingly, and he'll see if he can get things moving. More or less in a move to show Scarlett it's okay, he closes the gap between himself and Mick. He's comfortable with the other man now, as they're hardly new to this. His hand gently snakes out to rest on the other's side, and a few small kisses are planted on Mick's neck. He then pauses, murmuring. "Don't get stage fright now, the lot of you."

Letta: She nodded softly, taking in a soft breath before her own lips press to the side of Mick's neck, gently. It was different. This wasn't drunken sex they could forget about in the morning and blame on alcohol. This was something much more... closer?

Mick: Hello. HELLO. How often is he the center of attention? 

There's a startled noise from the Welshman, mostly because Jaime is doing his thing, and then Letta does her own. A hand snakes out to massage Jaime's scalp as he works, mostly as encouragement, before Mick turns his attention to the Lady. It's been a long time since he's been with a woman, years, really, and he seems to find his groove when his focus shifts. He bends down a bit, making it easier for her, hands exploring just a bit. He's also not used to regular people, though he's not sure what could be said for the construct. He assumes it'll be somewhat the same, she's not like Ethan, after all.

Jaime: He's a firm believer that things will work out exactly as they need to, and if he's to be the one to push things along, then so be it. He knows how much Mick likes his power trips, so he's going to accomodate. It's a funny exchange betwen those two, honestly, but it's not something he seems to mind...at all. To be honest, he definitely likes it. He wouldn't admit it, though. His lips wander, little kisses spattering a pattern before he pauses and hesitantly looks to Letta. Unless Mick steals him back, he goes for a gentle kiss, hand moving to tilt her chin up, just faintly.

Letta: A construct compared to human is like a beautiful statue that you can grope in the museum and no one will judge you for it compared to touching a somewhat normal person who makes you a registered sex offender otherwise. Her lips playfully nibble at his throat, deciding to stand on her toes so that he doesn't have to crane his neck for her. However, Jaime steals her for a kiss, a light smirk forming against her lips as they brush with his.

Mick: Ah, there it is.

"We're standing," he says it now that he's not to distracted to breathe, watching the two of them. It's what he usually does, plays observer, watches with rapt interest and gives a command or two. He's God in bed, his wish is his command, and there's a bit of wiggle room here. "You want to take her, Jaime?" Now the real stuff begins. The voice he uses here is light, barely filtered by his accent, it's something seductive, but it'd be uncomfortable if he talked like that outside the bedroom. "Show me what you can do with him, Let," Ooooh, damn it, Mick Rawson.

Jaime: That's as much room for her to get what she wants as it is for him to do the same. He knows how this plays out. This isn't his first time he's been in a similar situation. He doesn't seem bothered by the proposition, and instead focuses intently. He kisses softly along her neck and slowly lowers a hand, planning to get to business. His fingers trail down her abdomen and eventually slide lower still until there's a rubbing tease. His kiss hits her on the lips now, and it's a passionate one. That little rub becomes a bit more as a finger tentatively slides for entry, to test the waters.

Letta: Her hands run along his chest, fingertips through the light blond hair brushing ever so gently. Her neck slowly cranes with each peck upon it, feeling his hands get to business as hers do as well. Her hand wraps around the manhood of his, giving a slow but long stroke, from the shaft all the way to the tip, her finger circling the head as his lips press firmly against hers. She kisses him hard, especially as he teases her himself, biting at his lip as he slips a finger in.

Mick: "Mmm," Mick pulls out from where he's nearly smushed, turning around to the back of Letta. Jaime's gotten enough of him, maybe he's curious about her. He starts slow, mostly so she can focus on Jaime. First it's just her hair, hands working through tangles as he watches what she does to Jaime. There's a hum before Mick takes every angle not occupied by the Lord, grazing his teeth on every bit of skin he can. 

"Pump him, make him cry for you, eh?," the order is low, whispered into her ear as he resumes his place at the back of her head, Hand dropping. Jaime's busy downstairs, he has a spot up here he can work on. Long, slender hands cup a breast, and Mick's bringing himself closer now.

Letta: Her head barely turns as she feels Mick's hand course its way through her stringy hair that was still damp from the spring.. Her eyes delicately close though as his teeth press to her neck, her own hand grasping a little tighter around Jaime's cock, nearly squeezing as she keeps the agonizingly slow pace going at the speed it is. Her body still so incredibly sensitive, Mick and Jaime's advances are difficult to restrain herself. Jaime would at least know the clenching of her own throat that he saw nights before.

Jaime: Yeah, there it is. Jaime inhales sharply and has to force himself to stay quiet. He's good at that. As a matter of fact, compared to many, he's very quiet in this kind of situation. That stems from where he comes from, probably. Of course, a combination of Mick pulling the strings again and the pleasurable pressure, as well as the sights before him, forces a quiet groan from him, which he tries to stifle by turning it into humming kisses against her shoulder.

Mick There's a pleased hum, and his other hand goes to cup what his right can't. There's some searching with his mouth until he decides to give her a little mark, Ethan's known for sporting those around. He tends to give them when he's very, very happy.

"You're both quiet," he likes that, mostly because Ethan is so damn noisy. It's one of the few drawbacks of being with his husband. "How do you want her Jaime? Want me to lift her? Wanna enter?" He's laughing against her skin now, waiting for either an action or verbal answer. Can Jaime even give one?

Jaime: He can give one, alright. Mick hasn't destroyed his ability to answer, like last time...and the one before it. Actually, for once, he's not moaning into a pillow yet. That's amazing. One finger becomes two. His longing is clear, and he's been hard a while now. "Please." It seems like he'll act on however he's provided, but it's notable he won't act until Mick gives him the okay. He's completey under that one's thumb.

Letta: Her knees feel weak with just simple fingering, but how else was she supposed to feel? Her eyes are squeezed shut, her fingers even lightly vibrating against his member as one becomes two. Mick's viciousness was a pretty big help too, as much as Letta would never admit it aloud, she liked to feel like a toy sometimes.

Mick "Okay," there's a kiss pressed to Letta's neck before he trails his hands down, and then he lowers himself. He'll have Jaime's help, it won't be uncomfortable, but getting her up without a wall might be an issue. So he pulls them back gently until his back reaches a wall, and Mick gets down enough so that he can lift her. He's counting on Jaime's aid. Mick relaxes against the wall, perfectly content to do his job as a support. He really likes wall sex, it gets him excited.

"Rhyw iddi," ohhh, Welsh. Damn. This is getting a bit hot.

Jaime: He's not going to wait too long. He follows Mick and Letta back, now planting passionate kisses on her jaw and throat as he positions himself. It doesn't take him long, and after a brief moment to position he gives his first thrust. His sigh with it is borderline to a moan, and as usual he tries to stifle this noise into her shoulder instead. It's habit with him, leaving one to wonder just what else he's been pushed into before. It would be a lie to say Cersei was easy on him, as Mick quickly learned. He's a bit more used to certain things than would be expected. His second thrust is also brisk, and he pauses, breathing deeply. Finally, he begins to find a rythmn.

Letta: Letta is INCREDIBLY easy to pick up. It almost startles her when he lifts her up, but the sensation that the wall was near was enough comfort for her. A soft resonate purr rumbled through her throat with each passionate kiss Jaime could place upon her throat. The first thrust in alone got a pretty loud moan out of her, but her cheeks glow red with embarrassment as her arms slip around him, biting into his shoulder to keep her moans quiet as he thrusts again, and breaks into a consistence pace. Her fists clenched as they hang loosely over Jaime's back.-

Mick Mick has his arms around Letta, sure not to let her go. It's a good thing they chose tonight, or Mick would worry about stressing the baby. Especially with the odd condition of it.

There's a press of his mouth to her shoulder, and even Mick is rocking to what's happening. He's making a second mark there, deciding he could always mark Jaime later. For now, she's his focus. Mick's quiet now, posting to Jaime's thrusts to keep it comfortable for Letta. There's a few huffs from him but beyond that he's quiet, enjoying this as mick as he can. He could enter, but she's not prepped and he really doesn't feel like coordinating with Jaime. For now it;s just easier to rise and fall against the wall.

Jaime: Jaime's hand rests on Mick's shoulder, and his grip is tight. His thrusts increase in intensity and pacing, and he gasps quietly against her skin with warm, muted breath. The sheer fact that they're doing this is enough to make him feel scandalous, and there's nothing he likes more than that. His thrusts are a bit more ragged now, but he's holding himself back as long as he can, wanting to please her as much as he can as well. His angle is a good one, but each repeat shifts, ever so faintly, due to their position. Jaime isn't hard to make beg, and he's also prone to seeking out the pleasure of his partner, when female. In many ways, he's been trained well. It's convenient for all parties, and hardly a bad thing.

Letta: Her teeth were making their own marks on Jaime's skin as she groaned louder with the intensity growing, her body lifting with each thrust. If Mick weren't holding her she'd probably be on her toes the entire time, which are just now starting to curl as her fingernails claw lightly into Jaime's back. Her body would get slightly tighter around his cock with each riveting thrust he pushed within her being. "God, Jaime.. "

Mick"Come for her, Jaime," the words are low, but the order stands. The thrust are increasing, but Mick is doing the best he can. Jaime's grip is welcomed, knowing he probably needs it for balance. More kisses are pressed on her neck, and then those brown eyes are watching Jaime's every move. 

"My legs are sore. They're new but they don't last long," he relaxes his grip on Letta, almost pushing her a bit against Jaime.

Jaime: That's the only indication he needed. He stops trying to hold back the flood of pleasure and stops trying to make himself last. His tempo increases, and his quiet moans turn into sharp gasps as a flood of pleasure hits him like a wave. He reaches climax with a louder one, flushed and embarrassed at the noise out of habit alone. His thrusts don't slow until he's ridden it out, and only then does he ease his cock out of her, breathless and amazed at himself for ever agreeing to this.

 Letta: She trembles, grasping him as if she couldn't stand without help. She'd definitely be sore in the morning, but she'd admit it felt incredible. Better than anything she had ever felt in her short life. She stands on her toes, just barely as her legs lightly quiver. She's still out of breath.

Ser Meical Rawson Mick gently sets her down, being ridiculously gentle despite how in control he is. It's how he operates, and it seems to bode well in his favor. There's a brief moment of rest before Mick presses against Letta again, reaching over her to give Jaime a brief kiss. She's sandwiched in, but he doubts that's such a bad feeling. 

"Good boy. And girl," there's a hum against Jaime's lips for a moment, before he breaks and focuses his attention on Letta for a bit. For someone not used to threesomes quite yet, he's gotten good at giving each partner attention.

Jaime: It would be a lie to say he doesn't like how Mick treats him. It isn't that he's ever actually hurt, or afraid. It's the power exchange. For this moment, it's almost total. That isn't something he can get elsewhere, and never from other people. He loves it. The praise is welcome, and the form it's given in has the same effect on him. For the moment, he rests where he stands, happy to be pressed against Letta and by association, Mick as well.

Ser Meical Rawson This is good. This is...

"The bed?" The suggestion is more or less for rest, he's not in the mood anymore. Really, since his injuries, is he ever? But it seems he's been impressed enough to want to stick around, and clearly he's interested in what could happen next. And he's a cuddler, Ethan's been forced down to having the Welshman pressed against him. It's just how it works, and he tends to use that softness of his as a reward. There's some nudges, and eventually he's leading his partners to the bed he's gotten so used to. Still nothing compared to his sleep number.

Letta: She nods softly, her head pressed lightly into Jaime's shoulder, still breathing a little hard. She moves with them, gently lessening her grip on Jaime. She must've left claw marks in his back, and she feels a little guilty for that. She slips onto the bed with the two, finding herself relaxing almost instantly. This was good. She'd do it again if they invited her.

Jaime: Claw marks aren't of high concern at all. He moves with Lett and Mick to get to the bed with a quiet little exhale. He's happy to rest there, and he's definitely do it again. For once, too, Mick wasn't all over him. THAT was a change. A little break, which was needed. Of course, Jaime has no idea what a Sleep Number is. So he would never think about that.

Ser Meical Rawson: Content with them both, Mick is resting on his back. He didn't penetrate anyone but he's still a fair bit exhausted. He worms his way into the middle, still wanting complete control even afterwards. Once settled, he's working on sleeping. He's not sexual at all, despite his joking and his mannerisms, he honestly just rather sleep instead. Ethan woke some of that for him, but he seems pleased enough not to really care about sex anymore. But he did enjoy this, enjoyed seeing what Jaime did with Letta. They'd both be welcome to his bed anytime.

Letta: She snuggles into Mick, physically exhausted. Her hair pools around her head, but doesn't get in the way of anyone trying to sleep.. Her head settles on his shoulder as her eyes softly close. Her own hand slips for Jaime's, since Mick is in the middle, and she holds it as she drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

[theofaronarchive]

So we did an AU where Mick and Ethan met a year later than they actually did and of course it ended in smut. 

"Yeah. Already." Ethan is breathless, mostly, and what he does have left is easily stolen away by Mick. His response is as quick as would be expected, not a moment of hesitation between its inception as thought and his speech.

"Yes." That's clear agreement, and a bit more. "Only if you want." Mick has it made, and some would be jumping to take advantage of Ethan's position right now. Weakness is a good description, honestly. He's been saved, and he's vulnerable, and many would gladly take that offer without feeling guilty about it at all.

So where does Mick stand?

"Alright."

Ethan's in for a bit of shocked. Mick is...nice. Too nice for a man in his position. He's a bit over the top, but he's gentle. Exceot for when he's in bed. There he's controlling, though he used to be sheepish and scared after Azarov violated him.

He starts it slow, a kiss, something to feel Ethan a bit more. It's soft, but affection is there and it feels oddly...

Familiar.

"You want the top?" doesnt hurt to ask. Maybe he'll be more comfortable.

"I haven't in a long time." He replies honestly with a little shrug. "I'll be very, very rusty. But I'd be fine with that. You tell me. What do you want?" He's very accommodating, but this likely is not a surprise. He's become as much, at a minimum, simply to survive day to day dealing with his situation. He's been pushed out of his comfort zone and torn into pieces, and reassembled into someone new.

He doesn't need somebody to fix him or make it right again. He's comfortable as who he is. He needs someone who won't ask questions about it and patronize him. Mick seems like just that. His hands move to rest on the Welshman's sides, his return kiss intimate and very familiar, somehow.

"You."

Well then. That's...not the right answer. So he decides to lead, pushing Ethan back a bit until he's tipped against the bed. He's...a little harder than expected. Is that muscle? Or something else? He doesn't question it. Not when he's in the mood for the first time in a long time.

"Lay down. Get comfortable," he doesn't have a jacket on, and he feels awkward without the layers. Off goes his shirt, though he seems a bit self conscious about the body hair before he waits a moment. And then he dips for another kiss and focuses on his new partner.

The body hair doesn't seem to bother him at all. He strips off Mick's hoodie and his own shirt. He's muscular and his body hair is basically non-existent. That isn't surprising, given his ethnicity. What little wisps there are? Faint. He's well-toned in an odd sort of way that makes him stand out, and makes him instantly attractive. It's impressive, really, and his tattoos are amazing.

But regardless of the differences between them, he seems comfortable- more than, even. He meets the kiss and wraps his hands around Mick's shoulders to encourage him and pull him close. He wants this. He's making it clear.

Mick's going slow, mostly to try and see how Ethan feels. He's nice...Mick appreciates a body like that and he knows how to show it. His head his leaving Ethan's face to travel down, the Welshman exploring every shape here until he stops down at the pant level.

"You want this slow? Fast? Either or?" He's curious, tilting his head at Ethan's crotch like he's trying to imagine what all is there. He's a little excited, and who can blame him?

Ethan is hot.

There's a tug at Ethan's side to encourage his choice, Mick dipping down just to inhale his scent a little more. Usually he's nervous with new partners, this seems...perfect.

Ethan's scars are mostly hidden because of his position, and the one on his hand is hidden by a tattoo. Mick probably noticed them, but he may never say anything. Ethan is ignoring them for now. He's been very promiscuous in the past. Many partners, many short-lived relationships, far more one-night stands. It's just who he is. He's comfortable in his sexuality, and in his body.

"I like it hard. Memorable. Passionate. But whatever you want to give." Does he really? Does he REALLY like it rough? He might, from the right person, but from how smoothly he submits, it's easy to guess there's something left over from the situation he was in. He's vulnerable, but he does seem to really want this from how he's clinging to Mick.

His hips raise and one hand moves to work at getting his sweatpants to begin to slide down.

Mick helps them, waiting to go a bit quick with this, but also he does get the passion. Mick doesn't care about sex much, the intimacy gives him something, but beyond that, it's not much.

Mick slides his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and sweatpants, pulling them both off. Ah, yes, he approves. Mick toys with Ethan for a moment, his hands more or less playing with the organ to see what it does to him. Foreplay is important, he want to be sure Ethan wants this and is ready for it.

“You ready?"

Ethan's cock is average in length, but a little bit wider. It's very nice, to say the least. There are tiny hints at a little trail of hair below the navel down to the spatterings of darker hair at his crotch. It's obvious from how he handles himself that he's very experienced, and unlike Mick, he enjoys this activity very much for the pleasure alone. He's been with one partner for quite a while now, though, and this is very different.

Foreplay gets a good response. He really does want this. It might come across as concerning he's not asking about lube, or it might leave Mick to wonder just what state he's in that this is a problem at all.

"Yeah." He nods, his pulse flying.

"Good. Relax."

Mick brushes his nose against it, clearly pleased with the organ before he looks around, not sure if....ah, there it is. Complementary lube, not the best, but it'll work for now. He's taller than Ethan, and just tall enough to be able to kiss him and prep at the same time.

His kisses trail to Ethan's jaw before he works a massaging finger, incredibly gentle and slow with the rhythm before he can finally slide in. The lubricant might be cold, but Mick isn't letting Ethan make noise about it. Not yet.

A second goes, and then the tries a third, trying to keep him loose enough. The excitement is too much for a moment, and Mick actually leaves a bite on his jaw before he sucks a mark. Everything about this feels so good.

The kisses hypnotize him, and the finger gets a quiet exhale. He's covered in bruises, but they're hidden well by his skin tone. Only now that he has Ethan naked and close beneath him would he realize it. His wrists and ankles are scraped, suggesting restraints for an extended time, and likely far too tight. There's no denying he's been abused, and for quite some time.

A second finger gets hitch in his breathing, and the third gets a muffled whine. He loosens easily, knowing how to push his body to do as such quickly, and also highly turned on. The bite makes his chin incline and his eyes close, the mark one he'll wear happily.

He's ready.

Mick straddles him now, making sure everything is fine. He sees the bruises and he takes it a bit easier, taking his time before he slowly enters. Ethan is warm and that alone has Mick shuddering a bit, so unused to the situation but trying to keep his new partner as comfortable as possible.

"Thank you."

For what? He doesn't elaborate. Mick leans down, hands sliding down to twine his fingers with Ethan's Fingertips brush the scrapes but it's a strange caress that's as soft as the open mouthed kisses Mick leaves on his collar.

And then he makes his first thrust.

He's slow, so worried about hurting Ethan, but that stops once he realizes it's alright and he can find a rhythm. He's back to Ethan's lips now, keeping his body lose so he can shove Mick off at any time.

That moment of pause before the first thrust leaves him breathless. The first little flash of discomfort fades quickly enough, and he's clinging to Mick in anticipation. fingers interwoven, kisses along collarbones, and he lets himself be washed away.

The first thrust gets a hitched gasp. His grip, intertwined in Mick's hands, tightens. He's sore, but not from Mick. He still wants this. He wants this very badly, in fact, and that's obvious by how he shifts and readjusts, welcoming the other to continue and telling him it's okay with a little moan he barely stifles. It sounds like one of pleasure over anything else, although he's become a very good actor.

"Ah...ah...fuck..." His toes curl and he whispers the next few words. "Fuck me."

Mick does exactly that, breathless as he picks up his pace, losing his control for a moment because of how cautious he's being. He lets out a cry against Ethan's mouth, the pressure already building too much too quickly do to how long it's been. He's so terrified he's hurting him, though he doesn't understand why the concern is so bad.

Mick breaks from Ethan's mouth to brush his forehead against the other man's, resting there and shifting with his pace as he slides off to Ethan's neck, burying his head there to focus on pleasing his partner more than anything. That's what's important.

"I'm...Sorry," the words are dragged out, and he's apologizing for slipping so easily. He's vulnerable here with the loss of control, and it terrifies him. But it's for Ethan.

He's the only one who would ever see him like that.

The abrupt roughness makes him cry out sharply, but he's still receptive and clearly loving it. His nails dig into Mick's hands and his eyes squeeze shut. He's hurting worse than he wants to admit, and the pleasure isn't masking all of it. His body language shows he wants this, but he can't hide that the slip did hurt him.

"No- no, I'm sorry. I- ah!" Words cut off by a gasp of pleasure. Oh. That's good. That's nice. He bites his lower lip and raises his hips, rocking against Mick. "I want this. I really do. I'm sorry, I'm just..." Hurt? Sore? Bruised, torn up, aching?

"Please don't stop." He'd feel horrible if Mick did. Not only that, he really does want this. He kisses along Mick's jawline before moving his attention to the other man's neck in soft pecks.

Mick does stop, just a moment.

He takes a minute to breathe, ignoring the need to keep pushing because of the pressure. He heaves before he's finally calm enough to continue, sighing. Ethan's encouragement helps, and he settles a little lower to return the encouragement.

"Okay," he starts again, regaining his control and still under the intense pressure from before. Now it's more, but he's keeping the paces regular and the kisses planty to keep him comfortable. He knows he aches, but now he wants this too.

He wants him.

"Ethan," God, it feels good to say his name. It rolls off Mick's tongue like he's said it over and over before. The pressure builds enough to where he can't hold it much longer, and he just goes to kiss Ethan to silence the noise.

And then he comes It's not as violently as some would like, and it's rather pathetic, but Ethan doesn't know about his injury yet. But it feels good.

It's enough for him. He's been with all types of people. Those who hit orgasm early, those who have porn-star worthy organs, those who are rough, those who make love to even a stranger, those who have kinks to strange they've made him question whether he's anything but a sex toy to them. So nothing Mick does will drive Ethan away from him. He doesn't rank sexual experiences, either, which means Mick shouldn't fear seeming weak next to whoever has been with him before. He's so very rarely submissive that he wouldn't have much to go off of here, anyway.

The thrusts, the kisses, the use of his name. That last one is refreshing, and the kisses, too. When Mick reaches climax, he frees a hand to stimulate himself a bit before he, too, reaches his peak with a low moan of Mick's name. When it's over, he's just left clinging to his partner in silence.

It's quiet.

Mick can hear the cock ticking and it's driving him mad because of the silence accompanying it. He just lays there for a moment, soaked in swat and trying to catch his breath. Eventually, he slides out, weak by the experience but none the less pleased.

He just lays there on Ethan's chest, ready to move if he's shoved aside but he's rather content to just lie there. He sighs, resting just a moment more before he lifts himself up and offers a kiss to Ethan

"Thank you. Sorry for the freak out. I lose control and sometimes it gets the better of me. You okay?"

[theofaronarchive]

Oops

He has no idea what Ethan's doing. But he does know they've been at this Inn for a long time...and haven't done anything. Nothing besides hang out, which Mick is all for, but there's times he craves a little extra, rare as they are.

"You wanna do something?" It's a bit abrupt. Everyone is asleep in the Inn for now, or so Mick thinks, but really, what's the harm? "I mean...you know what I mean, right? It's been a while. And I've missed you these past months since I've been here. Now that you're here..."

Oh, that's what he means. Mick know it'll be a yes, but he likes it when Ethan's excited about it. He's kinda cute like that, and it means he's still interested. He never considered the old thing that married couples lose interest, even though it's just a mere label, he can't help but be a little paranoid.

"I mean, we are outside of the apartment," there it is. "And I figured you'd like to try something new with me for once."

That was a surprise. Ethan rolls over on the bed where he's laying down, reading comics. Punisher, to be exact. Given that he's fought the man before, his affection for those stories is very funny. The book is lowered, and as Mick's words start to make more sense, his expression twists into a grin.

"I'd have to be sick or completely exhausted to turn that offer down. What's so special and new besides the location? You got a kink you're gonna admit?" He sets the book on the nightstand and sits up, expectantly. "You know I'm game."

“Ohh, boy, you’d file for divorce if I told you my kinks,”....what. “I thought we could...invite someone? That someone being a very, very important knight. Who I owe a wedding gift to. I just wanted to be sure you were okay first before...y’know, we go all rumpy pumpy.”

Since when did he start saying that? “I invited Jaime last night but I was too tired. If he’s still up for it, I thought you would like to get a piece of the action. He’s said yes already, but I wanted to check with you.”

Aww. How considerate. "I haven't had one of these in a long time. And you know I like Jaime, but I thought it'd be fun, eh?"

"Jay's hot as hell. Of course I'm fine with that. Besides, I might as well be in on the bachelor party action, since I might not be around for that itself." Ethan grins mischievously. "I haven't had any rampant, wild threeways or orgies in a long time. Don't go getting me hooked, now." He's actually excited at the prospect, and the little gleam in his eyes shows it. The knight is hot. He's unashamed to say so.

"He really agreed? I'm actually amazed. I guess he's been more open about it, since the general consensus is so chill 'bout that around here." He's confident about himself, and Mick knows this. He won't get performance fright or be self-conscious. He's about the farthest thing from a virgin anyone will ever find.

And he knows Mick loves that.

Mick does love that.

“Good. I’ll be back,” he gives Ethan a wink, before exiting out the door. He’s gone for about five minutes before he returns, with the lion in tow. “Jaime, Ethan. Ethan, Jaime. Though you two know one another it’s good to be friendly.”

The room isn’t as big as Mick would like, but the bed is wide enough to house all three of them (and handle Ethan’s weight), so he doesn’t see a problem.

“Yeses all around? Out loud so we can all hear?” Consent is so important. “E, how should we start? Should we welcome our new friend?”

"Friend is one way to put it. He's supposed to be our fearless leader." Ethan's voice slips to that little sultry purr it tends to become when he's trying to woo a stranger. It so rarely fails him, too, and combined with his fluid movements and generally seductive demeanor in the bedroom it's a knockout. He stands from where he's been sitting, striding towards Jaime with no hesitation. An arm wraps about the other's waist, and he reaches up with one hand to cup the other's chin and give his cheek a brush with one thumb.

"So, Jay? What do you think? Should I welcome you first?"

It's all new and somewhat intimidating for Jaime, but Mick is familiar, and very much so. His good hand instinctively moves to slide under Ethan's arm and spread across the man's shoulders. He might as well be bold. He leans down and steals a little kiss before replying.

"Sure."

“This is so different from how you were our first time,” Mick’s impressed, and amused. He’s watching for now, taking the role of observer for now. Eventually he’ll join in. But for now?

“E? You should help Jaime undress a little. There’s only so much a one handed man can do,” he’s still playing the role of a dominate, but he’s letting the two get used to each other first. Mick’s toes are already wet in both waters, anyway. Mick licks his lips, actually starting to get a little twitchy. But he’ll let them have the dance first.

"You've been teaching me since then." He reminds Mick with a tiny, more confident smile. Ethan's peppering his jawline with kisses now, clearly looking forward to this. The words from Mick get not a word of agreement, but he does act. It...might not have been what was expected, though. While he initially moves to get Jaime's shirt at least partially off, his hand trails down instead, boldly sliding right into the front of the other's pants.Jaime gasps when there's a grab, the quiet noise more than enough to tell Mick exactly what happened. Ethan then actually does go for the shirt, and it doesn't take long. His free hand gently grabs Jaime's right arm, above the false hand and the vambrace that holds it in place. He'll take care of that later. For now, his kisses trail down the knight's chest until he's lowering himself a bit more...and more...and his kisses reach the other's waistband.

Mick watches with rapt interest, before Ethan’s movements get to be too much. Good thing Jaime knows his place here, and Mick stand from where he was sitting on the bed, moving a bit closer before a hand brushes into Ethan’s hair, stroking him there for a while, nails and all.

“I have haven’t I?” his eyes are on Ethan, watching him work while his hand scratches on his scalp. There’s a small smile there before Mick’s eyes flick back to Jaime. “I think E approves. You still need to impress me.”

Mick’s hand leaves Ethan to focus on Jaime now, teeth grazing on the knight’s jaw before he brushes his nose against Jaime’s. “You ready, E? Or do you want him for yourself for a while?”

The control is making Mick crave it. That’s what he likes, not the pleasure or the feeling. The absolute control he has over these two. It’s...satisfying.

“I’m ready whenever you are, love." Ethan's words are a murmur. He stands again, enjoying teasing the hell out of the knight. One hand turns, and his palm presses and rubs in just the right way at Jaime's crotch. Talk about being blunt about what he wants.

As much as Jaime would like to lean into the sensation, he also now has Mick to the side, demanding unspoken things from him that should remain as such. He's picked up on a lot lately, and Mick's been able to mold him into exactly what was desired...lucky for him.

"So, how can I do that?" His words are quiet. He's always been softer in this setting.

“First, you can convince me this is what you want,” his voice is low, accent blurring his words. “Both of you. Come on.”

Oh? Mick’s letting them work it out? That should be fascinating. He pulls away, tugging Ethan so that he was where Mick wanted him. Mick undresses himself, not exactly giving into that self consciousness he usually has when shirtless around strangers. His clothes are tossed in a neat pile, and then Mick climbs on the bed, laying on his back with his knees bent. There they can clerly see those scars he’s not fond of, jagged and mismatched with replaced skin. There’s also that long, pink jag that scrawls his right side.

“Should be easy. I know Ethan has experience in this, but I want to see how creative you can be, Jay. Copy him if you have to. I want to see what makes Cersei scream.”

Oh. Okay. Ew.

"This will be fun. Ethan steps away from Jaime and shrugs off his shirt. He shrugs off his sweatpants, leaving just his underwear on before he crawls onto the bed, moving Mick's right side. He trails kisses down Mick's abdomen with care, a soft little hum on his lips.

Jaime gently unlaces the vambrace and leaves the gilded hand to the side safely. He reminds himself that he does, indeed, want this, at least for the new experience. He quickly enough drops his pants and steps out of them, ever so softly biting his lower lip in a way that shows he's still nervous. Finally, he climbs onto the bed. There's brief hesitation while he decides what to do, but Ethan moves to give him room, watching with a grin.

Jaime might as well fill that request, but what he does might surprise Mick. He speaks, his voice low and warm, just above a whisper.

"It's always in secret- so carefully planned that not a soul will find out. Of course, they just can't. And it's that passion that makes it so memorable." Slowly...ever so slowly...Jaime leans in to plant a soft kiss on Mick's chin. There's a pause, and then he trails a long, lazy path towards the nape of the man's neck. He has to balance on his good hand, so what he's up to is more careful, and plotted. He moves so he can rest on his right side, his hand sliding down...down...down just a bit more...

"Secretive is always....always the preference," he replies, making a small noise at Jaime's touch. Ethan is met with caresses of Mick's hand, head, shoulder, whatever he can reach. He'll pay attention to both, that's the only good way to do it. "Here no one cares, you lose that edge that can be brought when you just might get found out. But there's other ways to find the desired affect."

Mick knows all too well.

The touches get him to squirm, for once reacting as both of them made their marks. Literally, in some cases, he was sure. There's a moment of hesitation before he brings whoever is closest to him to his face, already breathy from trying to form a reply.

Ethan's letting Jaime do the heavy work right now. He's the newcomer, after all, and they'd all be lying to themselves if they tried to call him anything other than a plaything. He doesn't seem to mind that, however. At all.

Jaime is drawn down towards Mick, his forehead connecting with the other man's. His breathing is steady and warm, and his touch is, as well. In many ways, he's thankful to have been afforded this opportunity. In others, he's baffled that he's let it happen. It should be shameful, shouldn't it? To be absolutely bent to the will of Mick? Whatever. He doesn't care anymore. The rebellion can wait. This? This can't.

Ethan busies himself with just teasing Mick, until Jaime is more or less drawn in. Then, his attention turns to the other man, unless told not to. Jaime abruptly gasps, the few inches he is from Mick's face, eyes widening as Ethan's fingers slip down to the small of his back, and then a bit farther for a gentle massage.

Mick's pleased with the change, watching Ethan touch Jaime in that way he has. He forgets sometimes Ethan is generally the lead, but here it's welcomed and he's enjoying seeing what the cyborg can do here. Mick puts in the extra effort, turning this on Jaime and leaning up to connect his mouth with his, trying to see if Jaime can handle the distraction of Ethan while still focusing on what Mick told him to. Much of this is experimentation, and he's finding he's enjoying it. A thumb brushes down Jaime's cheek, but those brown eyes are locked on Ethan.

"Is this your first one?" Casual conversation when Jaime's getting double treatment. He means the threesome, but Jaime is a noble, he just assumes he's dabbled, even with his oaths. "You'e doing well."

"With women, once." He admits it quietly, breath hitching as Ethan gets a little cheeky with a finger. "I haven't e-" There's a gasp, which entirely cuts off his words. It's easy to guess why, by the grin on Ethan's face.

"You talk too much." Ethan's smooth little purr is accompanied by a slow movement of his hand, suggesting the pump of a finger. "That's what you do when you're nervous, isn't it?" He's not looking for an answer, but he'll have Jaime weak in the knees before too long, knowing what he likes to do.

“He’s on top of me. Let me crawl out before you fuck him into oblivion, yes?” He’s laughing, amused with Ethan’s abruptness. “That’s my boy, making Lords all whiny and shaky. He’s going to take good care of you, my Lord.”

His last words are a purr before he distracts Jaime for Ethan, letting him get the knight prep. Mick wont be participating that way, DP might break the knight and he’s quite comfortable where he is. Jaime’s reactions have Mick laughing against his skin, finding this too good. Damn, Jaime smells so nice...

“Is he ready, E? You want him?” He’ll find some other way to entertain himself, seems like Ethan’s ready to go.

It probably would break him. Best to ease him into something like that. As far as Cersei has pushed him, that would be a first. He stays quiet, save for a little gasp when one finger becomes two, becomes three. He remains situated over Mick, although he's virtually resting on the other's chest at this moment in time. He tries to quiet noises of pleasure into Mick's shoulder, but it might not work out very well.

"He's ready." Ethan's silky voice is full of excitement. "If I don't wear him out completely, I've got an idea that you and I can't do because of my weight." He gently pulls Jaime down towards him a bit more, spreading the other's legs a bit further. The knight is flushed and clearly wanting. It won't take much to make him turn into a wreck.

Ethan isn't going to wait. He positions himself once he's removed his hand, and his first thrust is abrupt and fast. Jaime is jolted forward a bit by it, the breath drawn from his lungs

Mick keeps Jaime on him, feeling what Ethan's doing and maybe feeling just a little jealous. Then again, it's perfectly reasonable why.

Mick takes Jaime's face now, kissing him to try and tear him away from Ethan's thrusts. Eventually, he'll just let Jaime rest on him, and Mick's hand goes over him to touch Ethan, hand resting on his tattoo as his other moves to claw Jaime's hair. The closeness is odd but Mick doesn't mind how Jaime feels on him, or the friction.

There is a moment, though, that Mick claws his nails into Ethan's skin, cradling Jaime as Ethan does his thing. He wants Ethan to wear him out, and by the sound of it, he's getting there.

Jaime lets himself be buffeted by all of this, more or less driven to being a wreck. Ethan's relentless. He's forcing moans from Jaime and making sure he'll remember this clearly. He loves it when Mick plays with his hair like that, and it's all at once relaxing and incredibly erotic.

Mick's nails get the exact expected response, and as Ethan gets closer to a climax, he drives the pace as quickly as he feels comfortable doing so. This leaves Jaime feeling close to collapse, but Ethan holds his hips to keep it from happening entirely. Jaime's overwhelmed, not really working on kissing or pleasing Mick right now. Ethan's pushing him hard, and considering it's the first time for them, too, it's impressive. It probably leaves Mick to wonder what he's like with other partners, and just how rough and dominant he can get.

Jaime, on the other hand, seems to belong in the exact role he's stepped into. Cersei's had years to train him well, after all.

Ethan is close, and he murmurs the warning into Jaime's ear before nipping at it and pushing to climax. His moan is loud and his movements more frantic as he reaches the peak of pleasure. The sensation gets a whine from Jaime, who ducks his head against Mick and works to keep from panting too loudly. After all, nobody's actually reached that inside him before. The sensation is odd, but he loves it.

Mick’s pleased enough feeling them both, Ethan’s shoulders tensing and then relaxing, how loud he is, and Jaime’s own relaxing. There’s some wiggling on Mick’s part, but that’s so he can manage to lean over Jaime to get to Ethan, giving him a reward before combing his finger through Jaime’s hair. He’s working to guide Ethan beside them, manipulating him to that he’ll be exactly where he wants them.

“He’s good, isn’t he? Our first time, he was much gentler,” Mick’s focused on his scratching, trying to keep Jaime from moving where he is. Though he doesn’t exactly think the knight is going to be quick to move. “I’m impressed.”

High words of praise from Mick Rawson.

"Very good." Jaime is breathless, and he just rests where he's wanted. The scratches in his hair are nice as his body remains on high alert from what just happened. Ethan happily moves beside them, grinning, although catching his breath. "Almost too much."

"Just you wait until I have a few hours with you some day. You'll be begging by the first twenty minutes, and you'll be a wreck by the end." That's ominous. Ethan does like to tease and play, though, nearly as much as he likes to be at Mick's mercy sometimes. E glances to Mick, a brow raising. He doesn't know if Mick has something else planned or not.

“Wot?” He glances over to Ethan, and then looks down at Jaime. “You wanna pry him off I could do something for you. But I think he’s about done.”

He snorts, hand moving from Jaime’s hair to pull Ethan closer, paying him a bit more attention with a few kisses. Mick could go for a round, but he could also use the closeness. He doesn’t mind either way.

“Your back good enough for you’re side?” Oh, is he trying to initiate a cuddle session? Probably. “If not we could adjust. Either way.”

There’s more kisses, and he’s paying Jaime no mind, completely lost right now in what he’s giving Ethan, as slow as it is.

[theofaronarchive]

There's no cure for what I'm going to do to you - RP Fic

Nathan Akiyama and Sebastian Castellanos: AU

He's been out of the hospital for one month now, and he's doing alright. The medicine he's on has weakened him, but he's combating it well and is slowly getting back to where he once was. He's truly good at this, forcing himself back into a role he may no longer be able to fill. This is no different. At least, it shouldn't be. But something feels wrong- so horribly wrong that he can hardly bear it.

His dreams are gristly images and blood, and he can't understand why Ruvik's world is haunting him so horribly. While cooking dinner one night, he's struck by the thought of how easy a sharp knife can pass through flesh. A chill runs down his spine, and he moves on.

But as days pass, the memories grow more vivid, troubled, and jumbled. He can't stop thinking about them, which only makes it worse. And just when he thinks he's hit his cracking point, he reaches for the bottle. At first, it's contained and quiet. But surely Nate begins to notice the smell on him, just like Joseph did long ago.

That's exactly what he's going to do tonight as he heads home from the liquor store, bag in hand. He climbs the stairs with effort and finally gets inside, leaving the door unlocked and settling in. His coat is hung up neatly and his sleeves pushed back before he sits at the table with a glass and the bottle.

Time passes, and the fluid content decreases.

Nate's used to just walking in. Why not? He basically hangs out whenever he can. And maybe he's just noticed that Seb's been a bit odd. He expected him to be fucked up, but he thought it'd be better when the news that Azarov was dead came about. The Welshman wasn't kidding when he said he was going to rip him apart. The body was mangled and in shreds. Either way, some form of dirty justice was served.

But apparently something else has been bothering him. He's been acting odd. Maybe he needs Nate to stay for a few days, keep an eye on him. It helps they're colleagues, at least.

"Hey, Seb?" He's just walking on in, not even knocking. Ronan's nowhere to be found, probably doing some cat thing, but the sight of Sebastian drinking gets an alarmed sound.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? You trying to kill yourself?" He sounds harsh, but he's just worried.

Seb pauses in his drinking, surprised at Nate's appearance. He's bleary-eyed, and they're red. He's been crying. He doesn't find the words at first. He just sets the glass down and folds his hands together before they break apart again. Now he's hugging hugging his arms against his body in a sure sign of insecurity and distress.

"Nate, I..." How much has he had? "Nate, I'm scared." What's going on? Is it the disease, or something else? "I'm sorry. It just numbs things sometimes, and I..." Oh, he's in a bad place, alright.

"Okay, okay." He's a bit too upset to get angry at him right now, but Nate gingerly takes the glass and bottle away. "You can't drink. Jesus, what's gotten into you?"

He expects it by now, but that doesn't make his concern any less. He's been on booze patrol, even pledging sobriety to see if it helps. It means more energy drinks and less sleep for Nate, but he's making it. He's Seb's only friend here, and the least he can do is gentle push him where he needs to be.

"Sorry about what? What's going on, man?"

Sebastian doesn't want to give up the glass or the bottle. Eventually, though, he does, and sinks back into himself. He's very upset, and that doesn't take much to see. So what is it, then, that has made him this way?

"Nate, I...oh my god, I..." WHAT? "Nate, it's been...way too long. I just...I've hurt people." Well, that's one way to describe the job they're in. "I don't know how and I don't know why or...oh, god, Nate..." Well, that's definitely not about their job.

"Dude, Seb, that was in your head. STEM, remember? All of that wasn't real." His voice is low and he's talking quietly, trying to keep him from being hysterical. He's thinking Sebastian is referring to what happened to him while he was missing, and as far as Nathan understands it was just a nightmare. Though really, he doesn't know how all that works.

"Just relax, you need to chill out. This is what happens when you mix alcohol with your meds." Is it? He doesn't take medication, never has. He wouldn't know.

"No, before...before that. Months before. before. I...god, Nate, what did I do? I can't remember." He looks beyond disturbed now, panicked and heartbroken. "Nate, I think I hurt people." He keeps insisting, and he's terrified. "More than once. I think I did something bad." Is this the alcohol talking, or him?

"I...fuck. Fuck, no." He shakes his head and then leans forward, folded arms serving as a pillow on the table for his head. "I used to go to Elk River alone at night and I don't know why. I remember driving. Not all the time. Just sometimes. I just keep remembering seeing this dead deer in the road and blood on my hands, and..." Elk River? Isn't that where the serial killings Sebastian and his partner were investigating kept being found? It was also the site of many missing persons found dead in Beacon, and the site of a cult-like church.

He's heard about that, read them in Seb's files before he had been on duty in Detroit for too long. There's a meow that distracts Nathan for a moment before he focuses back on Sebastian, confused but feeling bad for the bastard. "Look, Seb, that's a cold case. Maybe it's from when you were investigating. Maybe you hit roadkill. I wasn't there but there's a logical explanation.

"It makes sense, right? You like animals." He assumes, given that he has an asshole cat he keeps around. "You were probably upset. It's okay, dude. I know you. You wouldn't purposely hurt someone."

Does he really, though? Sebastian's only been in his life for a few months after being missing for a year. There's no telling what happened during that time before.

"It wasn't the deer. I didn't touch the deer. Why would I touch a dead deer?" He laughs softly, bitterly. "I never liked Elk River...Myra always wanted to go t'church, raise Lily right. We never went back after the funeral. I swore I never would. Why did I, Nate?..." Strange. "I need water. I should just rest. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't remember why. So many cuts." That's...strange for drunken babbling. "So many cuts it got dull."

"You're freaking me out." He likes being honest with Seb, at least. But he's off to the fridge, grabbing a water and hanging it over, hoping it'll help. "It's the booze, alright? Your illness doesn't work with it. You promised you wouldn't drink."

He sounds disappointed, but once Seb's got his water and settling down, Nate's deciding what to do. "I'll stay over. Make sure you'll alright. Ronan might be pissed I'm taking his spot on the couch but I need to make sure the alcohol doesn't fuck with your system anymore or make you sick, okay?"

He's not talking no for an answer. "We have copies of the files. We can look tomorrow, and you'll see that the murders aren't tied to you. You good to head in on your own?" He's there, ready to be support if he needs.

"I guess." He's haunted, shell-shocked. How long has this been on his mind? He stands from the table and heads to his bedroom, clearly intoxicated but able to move on his own. "I'm really sorry. I just can't shake the feeling I should remember, something horrible." He rubs at the back of his arm and eventually closes the door softly behind him. He needs to rest.

A trip to the bathroom later and he's in bed, still clothed and too exhausted and inebriated to worry about it. He curls up and hugs a pillow to him in a sure sign of insecurity and passes out hard until the following morning. Chances are he's going to have to be woken up forcefully.

He's acting weird, and Nate doesn't like it. Neither does the cat, apparently, who's decided on standing and jumping on and off Nate's chest for a majority of the night. He doesn't leave, however, too concerned for Sebastian's safety and a bit confused. Where did this come from? The illness must be messing with his head.

Though...Sebastian was a survivor. Gone for an entire year, and before then, who knows? Always drinking, it's only because of Oda he was allowed to keep his spot on the force. And being an officer would be an easy way to- No. Sebastian isn't a killer. It doesn't make sense...does it? He's not so sure anymore, really.

When morning comes an angry meow gets him awake, and only a second later does his phone vibrate. Odd, he didn't remember setting an alarm. Pulling himself up he's wiping his face and heading towards Sebastian's door to wake him up, just barging in and not even caring.

"Seb," there's a tap to Sebastian's leg before he yawns. "Work."

Not a morning person, obviously.

"Hmmph." Sebastian isn't a morning person. When nudged, he gets up slowly, curling on one side and then pushing himself up. He slides out of bed, not really caring how the bed ends up looking after the fact. Why would he? All he does is pass out in it.

"God. No more drinking. I'm sorry. About last night, I...STEM and reality just keep blurring together." He sounds like he honestly believes it was his error, now. But the doubt is there, and Nathan can't ignore it, now. "I know I shouldn't. I'm just using it as an excuse to fall back on a bottle. No more, okay?" Without much care, he's stripping off his shirt from the evening prior and changing it. There's a nasty bruise on his hip, suggesting he probably had a bad fall. He's dressed quickly enough and splashes his face with water before heading out with Nate to get moving for work.

"Good. I figured. You knew better anyway but I don't fault you for relapsing. I'm still having problems too." He yawns, not even bothering to change once he's up and ready to go. "I'll drive. Not gonna lie, I don't trust your judgement much after last night. No offense, Sea Bass."

At least he's doing better, and hopefully when they get their heads into a case Seb might be a bit better off. His mustang is waiting in the lot and he's headed straight for it, and Nate's checking his wallet to see if he has enough to stop for coffee. Opening the door, he lets Seb leave first and gently presses his foot on Ronan's side when the cat tries to run out. After that, he's headed down the stairs, ready to go.

"That's okay." He won't argue about driving right now. Funny, this echoes something Joseph did, making him hand over the keys and take a step back. In that instance, though, he showed up to work drunk. That's a bit different. Quite frankly, it's a miracle he didn't report Sebastian then and there. And it's also debatable if what ensued later was really Seb being preyed upon in his weaker and saddened state or not. Whatever the truth may be, he doesn't regret it.

Sebastian follows Nate to the car and gets in, the Mustang hardly his normal style of ride. It's ridiculous. He won't comment, though. At least it isn't a beetle, or a Smartcar.

"Hey. Can I buy you coffee this morning? To thank you for keeping me out of trouble?"

"I'd appreciate it. Can't really afford it anyway." He snorts, tuning the station to a morning show and driving off. Their scheduled has been changed a bit. Nate doesn't mind mornings too much, and sleeping at Seb's had has been a good transition. He's also going sober, so the night helps with his insomnia a bit.

"Panera? They have great coffee." They do, but the writer is still pissed at the company. "Actually, since you're paying, Starbucks? We have an hour, I can run our next case by you and get you up to speed. Keep your mind off last night. How's that?"

He's not taking no for an answer. He's getting his fucking frappachino, Goddamnit.

"Starbucks it is." Sebastian agrees and checks his wallet, finding enough cash without a problem. "So long as you don't make a 20 dollar drink." It's possible. He's seen one up in the forties due to espresso shots online.

"Once again, I'm really sorry about last night. I'm being so unprofessional around you. I don't mean to, but...things have changed for me. And I'm doing the best I can." It's an honest, heartfelt apology. "If there's a problem, don't be afraid to tell me to my face. I want to work through it instead of being fired, if possible."

"It's fine, dude. Just...remember your health. I care about that more than you being in a bender." What a nice sentiment. He pulls into the parking lot, seeing the drive-thru full and having no need nor want to be waiting so long. "If something happens we'll work around it. I have no reason to report you, and it wasn't like that was interfering with your work."

Seems good enough for him. "Just lose the booze, alright? Smoke if you have to, but don't risk your health over something that isn't real." He's being hard, but hopefully Sebastian understands why. Once inside he places an order, just a regular coffee, and pays for his own pastry while Sebastian gets what he wants. Man loves food.

"I'll do my best." That's all anyone can promise, and at least it's sincere. He follows inside and gets the same. He's not out for anything crazy today, and just needs the boost. It's far better than what they have at the station, anyway. He pays and waits patiently until he has the warm cup in his hands. Time to doctor it. A bit of sugar and a dash of creamer- there, perfect. He's good to go. Satisfied and happy about it, he lets out a long exhale and looks to Nate to see if they'll be leaving or staying here a while. He double-checks to make sure he even remembered everything he needs today, glad to find that it's all there. He doesn't remember grabbing his phone, but thankfully it's in his pocket.

Nate takes his straight. He gets enough sugar with the bear claw. He hasn't been working out much, that makes him a bit obsessive with what he consumed and how he does so. He nods towards a table and takes a seat, hoping Sebastian will follow suite. They have time to piss about for a while.

"So basically, I figure you'll want to work the murders we've got here. Lots of gross shit, dude. Like, mutilations, some of them are missing parts. It's a bit gruesome so the faster we get on it the better it'll be. I have the files all on my desk at the office."

"Mutilations?" That makes him frown and sit up a bit straighter as he takes a cautious sip. He'll probably burn his tongue anyway. He always does. "What, are they connected? I'm really hoping that's a no. If we have a serial case...God, the last one of those I was on..." Left him prisoner in a mental hospital, brain damaged, and as of last night, feeling guilty.

"How far into those are you, and when was the most recent?"

"Sorry, but I think they're connected. Similar MOs, all the work of someone very skilled in cutting and ripping people apart. But I'm not that far. I kinda glanced them before I got let off. The most recent was a young woman in her twenties found in the more woodsy areas a few weeks ago, just a bit older than me. Lots of deep cuts and it looks like she was tortured before she was killed. Really gruesome. I'll show you the crime scene photos when we get to the office." They are eating breakfast, so no sense in spoiling it with gross stuff.

"It's the last of a few bodies we've been finding recently. It was more before you were captured by Azarov and then it stopped for a while. The killer must be starting back up, probably takes a break every few murders."

"Shit." The description causes Sebastian to pause and rub at his neck in insecurity for a moment. That sounds brutal, and familiar. He's not so sure he wants to get too deep into this one, but he doesn't have a choice. "Well, if we think they're starting up again, we'd better hurry. I'll do what I can, but if you notice me zoning out or slipping, just gently get me back on track." Sebastian savors his coffee in silent thought before he offers something else.

"Back in Krimson, when bodies started showing up mutilated...well, the descriptions in the paper and on TV were graphic, and people were saying it was too much. But we toned it down. It was so bad that a lot more than rookies were losing their lunch. Even in the morgue, people kept having to take a step back. Worst of all, we were never able to convict anyone. And knowing what I do...nobody ever will be."

What does Seb mean? He's confused, but he's already gathering up his trash and throwing it away. When he returns, he gives Sebastian a confused look. Knowing what he does? Being a detective? That's an odd thing to say. But then he's also thinking about what Sebastian said the night before. Seb's his friend, but he wont hesitate to bring him in if something's wrong. Obviously his attitude about that has changed since the accident with Azarov.

"We're gonna take a trip to the morgue and see the latest body. A lot of the cuts match the ones from Krimson, but I'm hoping you can help put it together. And if you start to freak out I can handle it, but I wanted to have you by my side again." He grabs his coat, waiting for Seb to get rid of whatever trash he has and gets ready to lead them out. They have to get to work on time, of course.

"Okay." He appreciates it, obviously, and he quickly stands to follow. He's savoring what's left of his coffee, but if Nate doesn't want it in his car he won't bring it. "That's one way to start the morning. If it matches Krimson, I'll know on sight, I'm sure. I spent way too long on those cases to do anything else." It's confidence, or at least him trying to show that he's useful. Either way, he's making a valiant attempt.

"Nate...? About last night? Thanks for making me stop drinking."

"It's either let you drink yourself dead or try and keep you from going off the brink." He doesn't care if Seb brings his in so long as he doesn't spill it. "I promised I'd help, Seb. Your disease will be hard to deal with but eventually you'll make it. That's why I'm trying too. Both of us could use it. You ever start needing a drink, just call me next time, alright?"

About thirty minutes later, they've checked in and are heading into the morgue. The mortician a slightly overweight, older woman with a pleasant smile. Odd, for her profession.

"Hello detectives." She has a southern accent, something that kind of throws Nate off. "This one's not as bad as the others. Cut up and ragged, though, but she fought him pretty well. We think the unsub was maybe weakened by something."

There she is, tarp pulled, and she looks rather kept together, but there's some deep cuts on her pale body.

Sebastian's blood runs cold. Absolutely, horrifically cold. And as he stares down the body, he feels a wave of nausea wash over him. He takes a step back and looks away, steeling himself, before he glances over again. Tentatively, he strides closer and takes a peek again. He speaks, quietly, and keeps his gaze locked on the body.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Can we talk alone, please?" He looks to her, pleading. Hopefully she takes it to mean he's just embarrassed to seem this weak.

"O'course." She departs, leaving the two of them alone and not caring the reason why. She's used to it by now.

Nate's concerned. Seb's freaking out again, and he's already moving to cover the body back, thinking it's making the detective sick or something.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Nate steadies a hand on Seb's shoulder, gripping him for support and watching with worried brown eyes. He's oblivious to the body, all eyes on his partner, hoping he's alright.  "Want me to handle this? I can do it myself, you can head back and rest. What's buggin' you?"

"No...no, Nate....fuck, Nate, I..." His voice cracks, and when he looks over, his eyes are brimming with tears. "Nate, I KNOW her. I've SEEN her before. I don't KNOW her, not personally, but I've SEEN her." His hands are shaking as he leans on the metal table. "Nate, I fucking KNOW her."

That's a strong reaction for a man who probably just saw her at a store at some point, or in a parking lot, or on the street...or at night, alone.

"Okay, okay, Seb, calm down." He's hysterical, and the best he can do is try and get Sebastian calm. "What do you mean you know her?"

Nate's his only friend. He knows this. But he could have met her in the hospital or bumped into her at some point. Something had to explain it. He's trying to keep up with Seb as back he can, loosening his grip and trying to project that Sebastian can trust him. He probably needs it, in his state.

"No, Nate, I...I...don't KNOW." The panic isn't falling. "I don't know." His words break off and his eyes shut tightly. "I...remember some things. I don't know. Like what I told you yesterday. Nate, I...think..." He straightens up and hugs his arms across his chest. What he says next is a quiet whisper.

"I...I'm scared I've hurt people, Nate. I can't remember how, or why, but..."

"Fuck," oh, clearly Nate's not handling this well. "Seb you didn't do this. I know you dude. I...I know..."

Does he, though? Does he really know him? He's known Seb for two months, and most of what he actually knows about him he read in a file. But Sebastian's his partner, his friend. Maybe he's overreaching and maybe he just wants to pretend that Seb doing this isn't real and that he's freaking out over nothing.

"Do you want to make sure? There's testing we can do. Forensics has some smudges and we can test your weapons. You have that big knife with you, right? Show you you're just freaking out."

He's basically asking if Sebastian wants him to take him in, but he's not wanting to arrest him. He has no reason to. Seb's confession could just be crazy talk.

"Th...my knife?" There's a puzzled frown as he thinks about it. "I...don't remember where I left it." Uh, oh. That's not a good sign. "I haven't seen it since before Azarov got me. It might be at home, I guess, or...somewhere." In truth, he has no idea what became of it. Would that survival knife match with these wounds? The only time he ever used a knife like that on a person was in STEM, and it was for quick kills to the head, nothing more, or beneath the jaw. He has no idea what the one he bought once freed would do to a person.

"I...Nate..." He looks anguished now. "That night, with the deer. And the blood. Nate, what did I do?"

"I don't know, Seb." He's quiet, like he's thinking. "We can still get some things checked. Boot prints, there's half a finger print. Show you they don't match. Then we can get you on leave." He's trying so hard to help his friend. It's obvious Nate cares a lot about him, but he's still a bit skeptical. The killings did stop when Seb was in the hospital, and this one was a lot sloppier than the others.

But he couldn't have.

"Don't worry about the deer. It was a dead deer, that's all. There's an explanation, Seb. There always is. Come on, let's get you checked out, okay? Put this mess behind you. Get you focused. I can't have a partner who's freaking out. It'll stop the case for both of us."

"Yeah. I don't wear boots." He gives the weakest smile, taking some kind of glad relief in the statement. "Okay. Let's do it. I'm not going to be able to sleep unless I know. I...shit. This reminds me so much of Krimson. Back then, there was a partial print, one time. But the evidence got...destroyed...in a..." And the faint hope drops.

"...in a fire."

Oh.

Seems good. Nate thanks the coroner and leads Sebastian out, driving back to the station. It's a big process and Nate has a hard time explaining it to the forensics why they need a comparison of the prints. But he's the detective, and if he says it's evidence, it's evidence. It takes a while. Nate offers to get them lunch until the prints are ran. There's a 80% chance of accuracy with the finger print, they just hadn't ran it yet with the overflow of work going on. Detroit, always stuffy with work.

Eventually, Nate gets a text and has a file transferred to him. It's by late afternoon, and when he checks his messages, he feels like his entire world shattered.

It's a match.

Sebastian's prints match the bloody smears on the body.

Oh God.

Sebsatian, of course, can't see the message. He's distracted with the lemonade in his hand, gaze out the window and grip tight on the frosty glass. They've been quiet for a long time now, so the break in conversation doesn't get his attention until it extends for a long time. His gaze turns to Nate now, blank and concerned...and that's when he reads the look on the other's face for what it is, and his stomach plummets. There's a quiet, shaky exhale as his hand falls away from the glass. He doesn't know what to say. What DO you say?

He pulls out his wallet, leaves enough to cover the meals and then some, and slides it away before he quietly speaks.

"Do we...need to go outside?" He'd rather be cuffed out of large public view, is what he's really asking. And he looks heartbroken.

"I'd rather not do this...I just...It doesn't mean anything." It means everything. "But...I need to take you to the station, Sebastian. I...I'm so sorry."

What is he sorry for? Clearly, Seb knows what's happened. That it was a match. But Sebastian's his friend.

"We do this quietly. Nobody sees. I don't want you humiliated. I'll...I'll read you your rights in the car." He's not expecting Sebastian to fight him. And in his state, Nate can easily overpower him. But he's serious about keeping this clean. He feels like he's betraying his closest friend. He's really moments from crying. He tried so hard to convince himself that this was all crazy talk.

He's going to lose his only friend.

He leads him outside, unlocking his mustang and waiting until they're inside and out of view of anyone before he speaks the Miranda Rights, knowing Sebastian knows them, but it's protocol. He doesn't cuff him. He's waiting until thy return to the station. At least Nathan is the one handling this. When they arrive, there's a look of sadness in Nate's face that shows exactly how he feels about this. He doesn't get out yet, just looks tiredly over at his partner. "I'm so sorry, Sebastian. I just...I thought...I thought this would make it easier."

He's letting him take his time before they go in.

Sebastian is quiet, and no trouble comes from him. For the ride, he's silent, labored breathing betraying that he's near tears. His hands ball together on his lap, palms sweaty and mind whirling a thousand miles a minute. He can't look at Nathan. When they arrive, he sinks into his seat and closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. There's a panic attack on the horizon, but he isn't going to try to bolt. He couldn't make it, anyway. He knows that.

"I'm sorry." It's a quiet thing, the words almost breathless. "I'm sorry. I don't remember. I don't know why. I...fuck." There's a tear or two. His eyes flick open and he reaches up to clean his cheek and keep his eyes from brimming over. "I don't know. It's just this burning, in my head, and I...I remember her. I remember her, and...and Krimson..." Oh. Oh, no.

"The serial cases in Krimson. Oh, God. Nate, did I...?"

Shoot yourself. He hasn't disarmed you yet because he trusts you. Go for your gun. He'll either take you out or you can fire on yourself. Blow your brain out. Do it. Do it and end this. DO IT.

The urge strikes him, and he wants to act. But his body is frozen in shame at the very idea.

"The evidence against you is really strong Sebastian. I...They haven't made matches yet. I'm praying you have an alibi for her ToD, because I wasn't with you. But...with how similar the cuts are...you might have."

He clears his throat, trying really hard not to lose it here. He holds his hand out, waiting for Seb to surrender his weapon before he leaves the car to unlock the door and walk him in. He won't handcuff Sebastian yet, not unless he tries something. He respects him too much, even now, to do it.

"Come on."

"I don't know." He's not just saying it to feign mental instability, either, and he won't have to. He's been lobotomized, for christ's sake, and even if Krimson was him, they can't kill him for it now that there's no arguing he doesn't have the mental capacity of a normal person. This will cause horrible repercussions to those who let him keep his job, too. He unbuckles his seatbelt and holds up his left hand in plain sight as a sign of surrender while he slowly moves his right to unholster his weapon and hand it over, fingers nowhere near ready to put the weapon to use. Once the pass-off is done, he goes for the extra mags he carries and hands them over as well before his hands fall again.

He gets out slowly, almost losing his balance as he does so. There's a moment's pause as he reaches to his belt, gaze averted as he hands over his badge. He'll either get it back, or it would be taken from him, anyway. He's surrendered.

Nathan's quiet. He didn't expect this. It...saddens him above everything. Gently, he grabs Sebastian's arm for support and leads him in, not wanting to spook him more than he already is. This has to be killing him, and Nate doesn't know how to process it.

Seb needs to be fingerprinted and photographed, and Nate leads him in for it, but before anything happens Nate gives Seb a gentle pat on the arm. He was originally going to go in for the hug, but he sees that might be a bit awkward considering he's the arresting officer.

"I'm sorry." It's all he can say now. God, what is he going to do? There's no way Seb will get his job back, not from being a killer, and this now links him to every single death recorded in Krimson and Detroit. What's worse is he's not part of a vigilante group. He can't skate out of this one or call a portal and break out.

Once Seb's getting his stuff one, Nate finds a waiting area and just drops to a chair, sinking in until he leans forward and starts to sob. He trusted Sebastian. He looked up to him and grew to care for him deeply as a friend. Hell, the man even took his virginity. He's messed up by this quite a lot, and he doesn't know if he can recover.

Sebastian holds it together for processing and photos. But the instant he's alone in an interrogation room, that composure breaks. There's only so far his hands can move chained to the table. He hunches over, forehead resting on his fists, and he sobs. The pain is so great that he wishes he could die. He doesn't want to face this. He doesn't want to have to go through this. Why can't they just shoot him now and get it over with?

Obviously, Nate won't be the one to face him first. And it's hard to say whether he'll be allowed to be on the case at all, everything considered. If he wanted, Nate could slam him with unprofessional conduct, too, what with their one night, that one time. Sebastian wouldn't even care at this point. He's lost everything now, and he just wants to die before guilt has even been declared.

He holds together as best as he can for the initial interrogation once there's a lawyer present. But it doesn't take much to make it clear he isn't going to try and deny his guilt. The lawyer knows it, too. They want to stave off the death penalty, when it all comes down to it, not get him off the meat hook.

Hours of dizzying questioning pass, and he's being slapped with charges for other murders in Detroit. Confused and broken, he never changes his story.

"I know her. I don't know them. I swear to god, I don't know them. I didn't do that. I didn't. I killed her, not them. Oh, god. Please. Please believe me."

But nobody will.

Nate's on forced leave, and the first place he goes is home and he calls Vic, not wanting to be alone. He would have called Mick or Ethan, but they're on vacation. He just doesn't want to be alone.

He follows the trial, watching as Sebastian gets held accountable for the murders in Detroit...all of them, as a serial killer. He won't be tried for the ones in Krimson until he's transferred. Nate doesn't tell anyone about the drinking or the one time fling when he's interrogated, instead just says he never expected this and he cared for his partner greatly, just that there was something wrong with him.

Unfortunately, the detectives on the case aren't so kind.

Sebastian is found guilty for several counts of murder and is due back for a transfer to Krimson. Nate was told to stay away, but he can't help but show up and say goodbye. He's a wreck over it, and it shows with how red and tired his eyes are. He wasn't allowed visitation but the minute he hears Seb's leaving, he does his best to get in.

They have an hour for visitation. Hopefully Nate's lucky.

Sebastian is a wreck. Somewhere along the line to at least look presentable in court, he cleaned up a bit. Shorter hair, an actual attempt to shave. Of course, stubble's coming back now. He's spent the last two days curled up on his bed, unmoving unless forced to. Bags under his eyes speak volumes for his exhaustion and fatigue. There's a tremor in his hands, too.

He's not expecting Nate when he's left alone at the table for visitation. He expects some reporter, maybe someone to explain what's going to happen, even though he already knows. He's hunched and defeated, and he rarely makes eye contact anymore. When the door opens, the footsteps are familiar. Dull, bloodshot eyes flick up...and he feels himself break all over again. Nathan's the one he's let down the hardest, and it eats him up.

"Hey." It's quiet, forced. "They're...sending me to Krimson." Nate probably knows that, but he offers it anyway. "There will be some...days in cou...court, before..." He knows where he's going to end up. And the look on his face says it all. "I don't want to go back there." Would they really be so cruel, as to imprison him in the same place he fought so hard to escape from? It's been completely renovated, and it's under new control now. "I'll kill myself if they make me go back there, Nate, I...I can't..." Quiet tears, now.

"I didn't...I didn't touch the others here. I didn't. Just her. Not them. B...but my lawyer said it would be easier if I just..."

"Yeah," hes quiet, dressed in civs. He's unshaven and looks really tired, and with how clean his face usually is it's amazing he even has the stubble he does. Must be the Brazilian in him. "I wanted to see you off. They refused to give me any details. I know you didn't hurt everyone else. I can feel it. But they wont let you off."

He wants so bad to break him out, but that would put his career on the line. And it's not right. Seb would want him to follow the rules on this. He sighs, digging in his pocket and handing over a little ziplock bag. "Best part about being a cop is, if you don't have metal they usually don't care what you have. They're dino shaped. Thought you could use some. They might be cold now, though."

He...he snuck in chicken nuggets. Well, he did want to give him a parting gift, and he really doesn't know what Seb likes outside his odd food choices though he doubts the man is up for eating. He won't be allowed to take them back out. "Ronan's been unhappily staying at my place. But I didn't want to send him to a shelter. I...I know you'll have the trial. But I'm..." He snorts bitterly. "Because I technically arrested the Elk River killer, they're looking into promoting me. I've tried turning it down but the chief isn't having it. It'll be a while before I can visit. I'm sorry. But Ill try. Krimson is only a few hours away."

"Congrats." It's honest, although bitterly so. The little gift gets the briefest and faintest of smiles, but it falls quickly. "I...don't remember what I did back then. I honestly don't remember. I don't remember a lot, these days. The headaches are getting worse." He shuffles with the cuffs and gets a nugget, not about to turn it down. He probably won't be able to get more than one down, but he might as well.

"You can just let Ronan go. He's...ah, shit." There's a brief chuckle, fake though it is. "You already think I'm crazy. And that's because I am. He's not just a cat, Nate. You've seen weird things. This is just another. Let him go. He'll be fine on his own. Trust me. He can't die." Did Ronan know about him, and what he's done? Either way, he doubts the man is going to keep him company. Why would someone who died by a serial killer fraternize with one?

"The Elk River killer...fuck...such a stupid name." He takes a bite, expression humorless. "And I'll never hear the end of it. It's like that one character, on that show. They call him Kingslayer all the time. This will be mine. Except all I did was horrible, horrible things that I wish they'd just kill me for now so they'd save me the trouble of finding a way later."

He's serious. He's suicidal. Will Nate report it?

Not just a cat? It's weird, but it makes sense. He likes to meow a lot and turn on the electronics, and wake Vic up constantly. He never could figure that out.

"Okay. If you're sure he's okay. I just really like animals. I don't want him to get hurt." He snorts, though he frowns again when Seb mentions how suicidal he is. That worries him, but he won't report it unless he has to. He respects Seb and expects him to be at least rational.

"If you need anything, call me. I can go or Vic or whoever I can send. They can help you. Even...even for that." Oh, that's a strange offer. But it's made. "I'm sorry all this is happening. First the kidnapping, then your illness, now all this, I know you didn't mean to hurt her. You're sick. Mental health isn't easy. But I wish...I wish Krimson wasn't fighting to keep you there. If you were here it would be easier, y'know? Or...something. I just didn't want any of this."

"Nate...they're not going to let me make phone calls." He smiles softly, the expression weak but thanks to the offer. "You know that." He'll be cut off from the outside world, and he knows it. "Just...just promise me. If I haven't...within the year, I can get help to." Oh. Oh, god. He's set himself a deadline. And he's serious about it, too. Will Nate actually assist him like that?

But the life he's going to have to live now will be heavily-medicated, constantly monitored, restrained, and going through therapy. It isn't as nightmarish as days past, and it won't be sheer torture like his captivity, but he won't be himself when they have him drugged. And if he were to try and fail...

He'd never get the chance to try again, more than likely.

"I wish I knew what happened in Krimson. Why. Maybe I've always been sick. I'm a disappointment, and now I'm...scared that...Lily, Myra...fuck...STEM, Joseph...how much of it was just me...making up excuses? To forget?" Of course, STEM was real. And Joseph? That isn't on him. But now he doubts even the core of who he is.

"Mick'll help you if the time comes. He feels like he owes you, even after sending back Azarov's body. I won't mess with his weird ass morals." But he won't help.  He can't help. The idea hurts him too much and he doesn't want the opportunity. He just...can't. He won't want anything to do with hurting Sebastian, it seems.

"Sebastian they were real. All that stuff that happened was real. I read the files." Is Sebastian suggesting he's behind the fire? That scares him a bit more. "You're sick. It's not your fault you're this way. But...but you have to suffer for it. That's just how it is. I'm afraid it'll only get worse. Maybe it'll help. I just...I don't know hat to tell you, man." There's come chatter from behind and Nate lets out a sigh.

"I'll try to visit in a month. But between my job and planning something I might not be there until late. But I'll try. I have to go soon."

"Planning something?" Curious, but he lets it die. "None of my business. Bye, Nathan. Thank you." Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't...too late. "You should...should probably go now." He gives the other permission to leave, quieting the tremor in his hands by clasping one into a fist and cupping the over around it to squeeze.

When he's alone, he breaks down all over again.

The transfer is quick. The court dates are just to pile more on him. He admits guilt to everything, tearfully, apologizing so hard that he'd probably get on his knees at this point. When sentence is passed, he collapses. Incarceration at Beacon, for life.

Regardless of whether the viewer knows him or not, the footage is haunting.

"I'm sorry! Please, not there! ANYWHERE but there, please! PLEASE!"

Castellanos, 35, escaped false imprisonment at Beacon Memorial one year prior, for a period of 13 months. He escaped with massive brain trauma and horrific injuries. Fate, it seems, has opened its doors for him again to pay for his crimes.

This has been NBC nightly news. Goodnight, America.

Two months later.

Sebastian Castellanos, better known as the Elk River Killer, was found dead today, having sliced his own throat with a sharp piece of plastic. It took him multiple attempts to get the cut deep enough. He bled out slowly, and was positioned so he was not found until today despite the attempt being the one prior.

Castellanos has no family.

He will be buried in the same cemetery as his daughter, Lily Castellanos, who died in a mysterious blaze years prior.

Prologue.

Nathan's packing to head to Krimson.

He finally got time off, and eventually saved enough for the trip after he bought the ring. He hasn't done anything yet. He's a bit too nervous. Mick's pressuring him about it any time the Welshman sees him, and honestly he's too busy. Jumping from junior to head detective like he did has been overwhelming and he hasn't had any time for himself until now.

Mick's here to pick up his cat. Nate's figured out what Ronan is, and they found their own way of communicating. The ghost has decided to stick around, more of less due to the fact he has nowhere else to go. Nate doesn't mind.

For some reason the Welshman is off. He mentions something before showing Nate a news clip on his phone. The news nearly crushes Nate.

Seb's killed himself. His closest friend is dead.

He spends two days off work and stays locked in his apartment. No one bothers him, not when he's so upset. He knew Seb was suffering, but losing him just...stings. He feels empty, lost. Seb was who he went to for guidance. He was used to it when he as in the hospital, but knowing he won't see him again...

Eventually, he does visit Krimson. Just hangs around the graveyard until he can't stand to be there. Seb didn't get a funeral. No one would have shown up. Except Nate. Maybe that's why it stings more.

He doesn't stay, just heads back to Detroit the same night, stopping when he can't even keep his eyes open.

Police work never feels the same.

[theofaronarchive]

Christmas RP part 1. McEthan

Christmas eve, Detroit.

The apartment smells like cookies, and in some miracle twist of fate they aren't burnt. Ethan worked hard to make it happen, and hopefully he made Mick proud. Dinner down and presents next, Ethan's as excited as a child...but not just about that.

There's a 24-hour A Christmas Story marathon on. That, and Die Hard has already been viewed for the evening. He's having a blast, and the fact he's got family to celebrate with makes it even better. Vic's coming for dinner tomorrow. Nate was tentatively invited, and figuring their apartment couldn't fit too many more capped it there. Is that some sign he knows about "the thing" between those two? Who knows.

Yes. That's a yes. Is it approval? Noooot really. Not as much as it lets him watch and scrutinize. "So. What's next?" Grinning ear to ear, he's cross-legged on the couch and bright eyed.

"Probably not loading you on more sugar, you're driving me nuts," he's grumpy and itching, and understandably why. He doesn't have the heart to mention he's not super into Christmas, not with his sister a world away and the idea of work still scratching at him. Best way to celebrate Christmas eve? Murder. But he's not going to get there, is he? Not with Ethan as excited as he is. It's kind of cute, actually, watching him fumble around and act like he's having the time of his life. Mick's doing what he can to keep from dragging him down, but it's hard when you have the Christmas spirit of a wet rag. "I mena, no sense in /y nadolig/ when neither of us go to church, and the crackers my sister sent wont get used until tomorrow. So ah, whatever you want, eh? SO long as it's not more bouncing off the walls with you."

"Sugar's great. I love sugar. It's dear to my heart." He's announced THAT plainly. He grins and draws up to his feet again. "Well, are you completely opposed to the idea of opening what I got you tonight? I've...well, I haven't ever really celebrated since I was a kid, so..." Oh. THAT'S why he's excited. This is essentially his first as an adult. "I'm nervous about what I picked. I really hope you like 'em. I think you will, but...ach, I'm gonna shut up. So, yes or no, love?" He's seriously mere moments from bouncing off the walls again, but at least he's still able to...uh, whatever this is. "Tonight's just us. Tomorrow isn't at all. And I promised some of the kids in the building we'd build a snow fort and have a snowball fight. And I hope you'll join in, 'cause it's not murder but it's close." He's...not wrong.

Mick shrugs, apathy turned on high tonight and it's obvious he can't care about anything in the least. Jesus, he's adorable when he's hyper, but Mick wont be able to deal with it for too long. "Nah, not at all, if you want what I snagged you," he had...no idea what to buy for Ethan. It flopped quite a bit and ended with a three hour long phonecall to Midnighter about what he should buy. What it came down to wasn't impressive, and he feels bad about that. But he thinks it'll still work. Somewhat.

Ethan moves to snatch three boxes, the largest of which is longer than it is tall by a landslide. He hands them over. "No specific order you need to open them in. They're not really related." Not related, but well thought out. Mick will be glad to realize they're all very tactical, too. Work related. Of course. Well...one to a lesser extent, but still. The first small box is wrapped as neastly as can be for something of its size. It's akin to a jewelry box, but too tall for one. The second is long and somewhat flat, which doesn't tell much. The third isn't a box, really, now that it's up close, but instead something soft and light wrapped neatly.

Mick got him /one/. Well two, but they're in the same box.. Now he feels bad, and he's thinking of an excuse to head to walmart to get him candy or something. What a horrible boyfriend. "I...ah," wow, awkward. He's staring at them, more unsure what exactly to do. He hasn't had an actual Christmas in years, he always just sent money to Jenna and begged her not to do anything for him. Any girlfriends he has at the time were never around Christmas and he just felt...awkward.

So he starts with the larger one and works his way down, deciding to unwrap them all and get to the point of it. He's excited at least, but he's going to feel bad if his gift doesn't hold up to par. At least what he has is useful.

When he gets them done there's a snort, and he's ignoring what he has in favor of showing his thanks with a steal a kiss, completely hiding the fact that Ethan's obviously spent quite a bit on these. It's Christmas; he's going to do what he ca to keep his stinginess from showing.

"Thank you. Your's is there, if you want," a larger box, but that's because of the main thing he has in there. At least he tried. This isn't buying for an entire room, he's not good with gifts.

The first box, the one like a jewelry box, is a VERY pricey timepiece. The watch is tactical and rugged, the same model used by a branch of the US military. Waterproof, shock resistant, tough as nails.

"Any good sniper needs the time on the dot. I thought it would help you out and be more reliable than the phone you hate." It's honestly a very handsome piece, too, although it might take some getting used to.

The second slender box reveals a blade- the knife is high quality, black and tactical, bearing a guthook on the back side and coming with a holster to strap around the ankle.

"In case you need close-quarters on a roof. Again."

The third light package...reveals gloves, specifically for parkour. They're warm, too.

"I figured you could avoid callouses and leave that to me, huh?" Ethan falls into the kiss before pulling back with a grin. He's not expecting anything at all- he could care less. He's just happy to have this time with the other. It's a first, after all. "Sure." He moves to the box and moves with surprising patience to discover what it is.

The watch is good, Mick never knows the time. He still has no idea how to use his cell, so the watch will do just fine. As will the gloves, He doubts Ethan really knows he's been doing shoddy parkour when he can; helps a lot with chasing targets. The knife will be great, as much as he loves sniping, stabbing people is just as fun. 

When Ethan returns with the box, it's actually sectioned in two parts, a flat clothesbox with a very, /very/ expensive jacket inside, something Mick picked mostly because he thought Ethan the moment he saw it. Very expensive, but it;s tailored to fit him well and Mick had some extra with a check Jenna must have beat into Reg to send. It's high quality as well.

The bottom gift, however, shows how much a disaster Mick is with gift giving.

'It's a...ah...it's a...Foreman grill," he'd be lying if he said he didn't buy it just because he's been wanting one for the house. It's a newer model, but Ethan can use it easily and not burn anything. "Good if...if you need something on the go. I never asked you wanted anything and since all of December was being tortured an' I jus'..."

He's embarrassed, but it's kind of adorable.

The jacket gets an appreciative "oooooh." He's got it on in literally seconds later, and he's turning to look over his shoulder in an instant. And damned if it doesn't look amazing on him, especially with his complexion. He looks to Mick for approval, clearly loving it already. It's nice, though, and he won't wear it when he's out and about doing his thing for sake of messing it up and scuffing the leather, but on casual things when they're not working and he's not treating the city as his playground, it will be perfect. "Thank you so much! Wow, Jesus, this is...wow."

The grill actually makes him stop. "Wow, actually...this is perfect. It's too cold to go up to the roof and grill out there like I do during the summer." He...can grill? "Thank you so much!" Mick gets a biiiiiig hug for sure

"Can't breathe," as much as he appreciate the affection, Ethan's got him a bit too tight. Jesus, this is too cute. When he's released he lets out a cough, fiddling around with that watch he was given and following the time on the DVR.

"Oh, my sister sent something-" not surprising, Jenna's sent a few things, but Mick's promised to give that until tomorrow. He stands, heading to the bedroom before returning with a plastic tub, tossing a cracker at Ethan. "Ever 'ave British Christmas? Didn't get a chance to order them, but Jenna 'ad a few left over. We're allowed to break the rules and play with them before dinner, we're just going for the candy, after all," of course they are. Now he's excited, it seems. He's saving the paper hat for tomorrow. That'll be fun forcing Nate into.

"Glad I 'ave this with you. Would've been upset if I ignored it like I used to."

"The fuck are these? The fuck's a British christmas?" Oh no. Shit. This will be interesting. Not surprisingly, though, he eats it almost directly after he's shut up. He's got no qualms about food, to say the least. "You guys are weird. Traditions and shit. We've got the Weihnachstmärkte, I guess. And Heiliger abend. Also der erste und zweite Weihnachtstag. Yeah, that's right. Our Christmas is legally two days. TWO. DAYS. FUll of FOOD." He likes food.

"You never watched British TV? Christ," he snorts. "Those are crackers. They 'ave little paper hats and treats inside, I 'ave more for Nate and Vic too. In Wales we 'ave y nadolig, which is church service, and ...ah," he pauses, thinking on how exactly to word it. He's only celebrated it in Wales, really, and doesn't know how well it translates over. Of course, he celebrates the later version when he can. "Ah, well, there was the day after Christmas you beat a little girl until her arms bleed with holly in the olden days. Now it's a tradition where you get gifts from your employer. Don't know how that translated. If you want we can stil beat someone."

He shrugs like it's no big deal. "Wear the hat tomorrow. It'll be great."'

"...w...wait, that...uh...that's...okay." The bleeidng sounds interesting. Disapointed the little cracker doesn't make noise like a noisemaker (because he is a CHILD), contain food (because he's always HUNGRY), or do anything more fun, he settles on cracking it open. "Can we beat someone until they bleed, though? Tomorrow? It sounds fun." Of course it does, Ethan.

"Find us a drug dealer and some holly and you got a deal," Mick NO. "It'll be a little Christmas torture."

He scratches at his legs, irritated by the itching his shaved legs leave him with and sighs. "At any rate, there anything else you wanna do tonight? It's getting late, yeah? If you 'ave more stuff to do for tomorrow I'll help. I 'ave some stuff I'd like to make tomorrow as well, but it can call wait. You're the boss 'ere."

"...Mick, it's Christmas. We're not working on Christmas." Somewhat disapointed Mick won't calm down for two nights of the entire year, he lets out a quiet huff of laughter before snaking a hand into that of the other man and leading him to the couch. "Watch one stupid Christmas movie with me. Please. Then you can go sleep." He won't force Mick to stay up if he really doesn't want to, but the look on his face is pleading. Almost to sweeten it, he leans up to plant a kiss on the other's lips. It's short and sweet, but perfect.

"Everything is work. Sue me," he's exausted and that way of thinking is exactly why. But Ethan's got him, he can't disappoint him noe. 'Fine, fine, one movie. But I'm going to panick and worry that nothing's getting done the entire time," he's curious to see what exactly he wants to watch, mostly because Mick's idea of a good Christmas movie is "It's a Wonderful Life," hich he doubts E will be all over. So he settles, waiting until Etha sits so he can poke and prode him until the other man lets him shove his head on Ethan's lap. Clearly, those are his terms, and if Ethan wants him to stay he'll comply, though there's a hih chance Mick might fall asleep fifteen miutes in.

Ethan doesn't really mind. One hand goes for the remote and the other's fingers thread absently through Mick's hair, almost like a massage. With all the pressure he's capable of giving with those hands, should he be trusted, he'd be excellent at giving them. Soon, he's got exactly what he wants- Elf. He would have loved if Joyeux Noel had been on, but he could never hope for such an obscure movie to make it to prime time TV. Elf is a classic in its own right too, after all. His fingers move through Mick's hair absently until he has to hold in a snort of laughter...and fails.

Ethan has odd taste, but he's asleep for a majority of it, so he's in and out during the entire thing. Ethan's though only makes him more comfortable, but the occasional snort does wake him. He doesn't mind, it seems. He's out in thirty minutes at the latest, lightly snoring and no longer feeling Ethan's hand in his hair. A good thing, too, he would have overworked himself doing something if Ethan hadn't pulled him over to the couch. And his legs are very...very comfortable. It's up to ethan if he moves back to the bedroom, but he's fairly content where he is.