These words are knives and often leave scars

Writing Blog for Ex Tenebris ad Libero writing project. Do not use original characters or the writing posted here unless given express permission.

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Starry Night | I am a Traveler of Both Space and Time

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The touch to his neck made Brooklyn start. He realized after a breath that whoever it was checked his pulse. He must have looked awful to appear like he might be dead. For Christ’s sake. He needed to lay off the tequila like…really needed to lay off the tequila. His eyebrows drew together and created a pained expression. He clenched his jaw against the feeling in his stomach. When the hands touched his face he noted that they were gentle. He appreciated that.

Then…the person spoke. The first thing he noticed was the voice. The deep sound of it would have caught his attention and sent him into flirtation mode immediately in any other circumstance. What he noted this time however was the words. What the hell was this guy talkin’ about? Sector? Leck? What the fuck?

“What…” He tried to talk and his headache throbbed. His own words on a loudspeaker in his head. Brooklyn opened his eyes. He started them at a slit. A thin sharp line of light against his eyes. Bright. Unwelcome. On the list of pain it might not have been the highest on the list but it still hurt like hell. Everything seemed to hurt like hell. Almost like his body had gotten torn apart and then shoved back together. This, to put it as eloquently as possible, sucked.

“…the hell you sayin’?” He tried not to hear the Texas in his voice. The guy continued and Brooklyn wanted to shrug but his shoulders hurt and this guy wasn’t makin’ a lick of sense. Someone must have spiked his drink. Might have been that blonde lady. It’s not like there weren’t people who might want to drop a little revenge Brooklyn’s way. He wasn’t in denial about that. Perhaps a wronged lover enlisted her help. He knew she wasn’t a wronged lover. Brooklyn definitely would have remembered her.

For a hallucination the hands felt real.

“Knock yourself out.” His voice was colored with pain from his headache and there was an obvious strain to his words. When he finally got his eyes open the light still seemed to bright. The guy above him seemed to be glowing. Brooklyn blinked repeatedly to try and bring him into focus. It didn’t work. He could tell the guy’s facial structure looked attractive and a sort of gold glow around his head…could have just been his hair.

Brooklyn coughed out a scoff of a laugh. Now he was hallucinating angels.

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No broken bones. That was good. And the man was moving a little and talking, so he was responsive. Also good. Thomas reached for the Physca clipped at his side and held it steady. The handheld whirred as the CPU booted. A short process, to be sure, but long enough that Thomas had time to think about the device in his hand. It was just a medical scanner, standard issue for any Leck patrol guard. They were helpful, especially in situations like this, where Thomas could ascertain whether or not the man had a spinal injury, a concussion, internal bleeding.

The instructors and doctors had explained that this was a non-intrusive scanner, but Thomas wasn’t sure about that. What could be more intrusive than looking all over someone’s insides? He was aware that his personal biases against being poked and prodded at by doctors was coloring his opinion, so he sighed softly and held the Physca aloft, slowly hovering it along the length of the man’s body.

“Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “I’m just making sure that you’re okay to move.”

An electronic chirp issued from the scanner, and Thomas tapped his fingers against the screen to pull up the diagnostic reading. There was nothing wrong with the man physically, so Thomas slipped a hand under the man’s shoulders and helped him sit up. The poor man looked bewildered, and Thomas was sure that he’d be sore from the impact, so he kept his voice soft and kept an arm around his shoulders, supporting him. His other hand moved to cup the man’s cheek.

“The scan came back all green,” he explained. “How do you feel?”

This was not at all protocol, but Thomas couldn’t help it. The man seemed confused and overwhelmed. When Thomas had first met Elsie, she’d done more or less the same thing. It had worked then; maybe Thomas could do the same for the man. It occurred to him that he had forgotten to properly introduce himself.

“What’s your name?” he asked, leaning back a little to look the man in the face. “Mine’s—”

“Thomas!” He’d been so focused on the man that he hadn’t noticed that Elsie had arrived on the scene. Squinting into the night, Thomas could see that she was running, face steeled and hand secured firmly on the grip of her stunner. She had yet to draw the weapon, but she was always ready.

“I’m okay, Elsie,” he called back, just as his partner crossed into the bright wash of the street light. “But he needs help.” Just like that, the fight drained out of Elsie’s shoulders, and the tension chorded into her spine slipped away as she made her way to kneel beside them. She was looking at the man now, her dark eyes doing a reflexive check for cuts and bruises.

“Sir, I’m Commander Cartwright,” she said, her voice level and confident in a way that Thomas admired. “I’m with the Law Enforcement Commission for the sector. Can you tell us your name, sir? What day it is?”

Thomas still had an arm around the man’s shoulders; now that Elsie was there, he took the time to actually look at the man as a person. Not that he hadn’t seen him as a person before, but it was different when Thomas was focused on whether or not the man was going to survive being evidently hurled into the ground on a beam of light. The Physca had said that there wasn’t anything physically wrong with the man, and now that Thomas was looking at him, it was very hard to disagree.

Inappropriate, he reminded himself, but that didn’t stop the faint hint of pink from reaching his cheeks. Thomas was not unaccustomed to being around aesthetically beautiful people, of course. Elsie was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen, after all. But the man had eyes that looked like ice crystals, and his every other physical feature followed the theme of being ridiculously handsome. There was something familiar about him, something he couldn’t exactly place.

“Holy shit.” Beside him, Elsie’s back had gone straight and she rocked back on her heels as if physically moved by a sudden revelation. Brow furrowed, she reached out and held the man’s face in her hands. This was not protocol, and very un-Elsie-like, so Thomas looked to her with his eyebrow popped up in question.

“Elsie?” he asked softly. She looked to him, then back to the man, then turned the man’s head so that he was looking at Thomas.

“Tommy,” she said, “It’s him. From the recruitment poster.”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to straighten up. He shifted beside the man (more like legend, he mentally corrected) and put his hands on his shoulders.

“Oh,” he said. Unsure of how else to articulate, he repeated himself in a slightly louder, slightly more urgent tone. “Oh!”

“Commander McNamara,” Elsie said, removing her hands from the man’s face and swallowing nervously. She held a hand out to shake, though the formal gesture was admittedly a bit silly given the fact that she’d just grabbed him by the face. “Commander, I don’t know how you’re here but… And I know that this isn’t professional, but I’ve just gotta say…. I’m a huge fan.”

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Starry Night | I am a Traveler of Both Space and Time

The problem in Brooklyn’s life was that no one had held him accountable since his mother and school teachers. In all honesty even school teachers were hit or miss. He’d had a smile that could melt an ice cap, a face that could go innocent or sinful and hands that were far too good at the latter. Brooklyn’s mother still tried, she called him as regularly as could be expected and he even took her phone calls. The rub was that she was in Texas and he was in Los Angeles. Far out of her motherly reach so he could get into as much trouble as he wanted and Brooklyn McNamara could get into a lot of trouble.

Even he didn’t know how much.

His job aided in getting into trouble. Brooklyn was a porn star who popular enough to pair off with whoever he wanted, a fan base that would have followed him to any studio and a reputation as long as…it wasn’t polite to say. People who met Brooklyn could tell that he had been getting what he wanted for a long time now and for some reason people wanted to keep giving it to him. Tonight was no exception.

Alejandro, generally called Dro by his clients for obvious reasons, had hosted a house party to celebrate some signings, some videos and just to have a party. This was a common enough occurrence and Brooklyn was always a staple at these parties. If he showed up then it was a guarantee that the party would be a success. Possible attendees would ask if he was going and base their decision on that. He was a draw. Brooklyn knew it, too.

He also got invited to after parties as well. Tonight was no different.

The first after party had ended around one in the morning. The after after party had ended when bars started to shut down. The final party had gone directly to one of the producer’s houses. He always kept a stock of everything. Everything. Anything illegal or semi-legal this girl had her hand in. She also had a shit load of booze. Brooklyn rarely participated in recreational drug use. A little pot now and then but he treated his body like a temple.

The only exception was liquor. He’d developed a sixth sense when it came to tequila. Anywhere in a party when shots of tequila started to go around he’d appear. Almost as if the bottle and the man arrived together. It summoned him. If he didn’t have a shoot the next day he’d be drinking all night long. He’d started with Corona at the first party, moved to shots of tequila at the bar with as many body parts involved as possible and the last party he was “sipping” expensive tequila.

Brooklyn McNamara was wasted.

If he didn’t have a shoot the next day then the night was his to embrace and embrace it he had. He’d embraced the fuck out of it. He’d met new people. One lady in particular that he’d actually struck out with. She’d had striking blonde hair and eyes that could only be compared to a galaxy. She was short but fiery and she was having absolutely none of his advances but she’d talked to him for quite awhile which had been odd. He hadn’t let it deter him though. He’d ended the night by somehow talking a guy and a girl into bed with him. He knew he wouldn’t remember how in the morning, during it he wasn’t even certain.

He was sure that all the tequila helped.

When Brooklyn had fallen asleep he’d been overheated between two bodies. The three of them pressed together skin to skin to skin.

When Brooklyn woke up the setting was different.

He’d never be able to say what woke him up first, the cold sharp feeling of metal against his warm skin or the sudden and drastic spinning sensation that he had flown out of bed. Colors pierced his eyes, almost like he’d fallen into a canvas of color. A spinning awful way too bright canvas. He felt like he was getting pulled forward by a rope wrapped around a vital part inside his torso. His body tried to report that it was his stomach but that wasn’t quite right. The worst thing was when it stopped.

Darkness hit first. The change was abrupt like someone had turned the lights off. Then he hit metal, way too fast. He felt it buckle just slightly and all his muscles cried at the impact. Then there was the cold. The switch of light left bright white spots in front of his eyes or maybe it was the impact. He’d quickly forgotten about that however. The nausea hit next. He’d been hungover before. He knew what that felt like. He’d been so hungover he thought that he might actually die. Hungover enough that he’d stayed in his bathroom for almost twenty four hours and pulled himself around the floor of his apartment by his fingers. This was worse.

His vision swam and his stomach heaved in a violent way that hurt immediately. He rolled himself sideways with maximum effort. This had to be a nightmare. He squeezed his eyes shut tight to try and block the spinning vision. The action only made it worse. He tried to open his eyes but only a blur of red light and darkness swam across his eyes.

He’d gotten way too wasted last night.

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There was a flash, a beam more like. Auroras were common enough to the area, especially given their proximity to the northern pole. But auroras were subtle. They shimmered in the sky like cosmic gossamer. They didn't rend the sky open and charge toward the ground in nearly perfect pillars of starshine and color. And they certainly didn't announce themselves with a resounding boom, like a clap of thunder. This was something new.

The light, whatever it was, drew Thomas in like a moth. A slow pull at first, but within a few breaths he was running full-tilt toward where the light had been, so bright he could still see the impression of it against the night sky and on the backs of his eyelids when he blinked. The lower quadrant was always quiet during the night cycle. Reserved for primarily production facilities, life filtered in and out of the tall, plain buildings with the whistle of the shift bell. The people had migrated to either the Upper Right, where most of the clubs and bars and restaurants were, or to the Upper Left, the residential quadrant. 

Had anyone else even seen the anomaly? His partner, Elsie, undoubtedly had. The last time she had commed in she'd been on the northern side of the quad. Thomas would undoubtedly reach the impact point before she did. He probably should've waited for her, but by the time that had occurred to him, he could see it up ahead. Given the intensity of the light, Thomas would've expected it to be much bigger. The small patch of sidewalk that had cracked and cratered was almost anti-climactic.

Except for the man lying on his side, right in the thick of it.

Thomas rushed to the man’s side and gently put his fingers against his neck. There was a pulse, and though it was hammering away, it was stable. Thomas glanced around. A nearby sign, advertising the Hera-Syn Decon Facility, was lying on the ground nearby. Judging by the way it was dented, the man must've crashed into it on the way down. Was he hurt? Thomas didn't want to begin any kind of physical examination without warning, so he cupped the man’s face as gently as he could.

“Sir,” he said, voice even, just as he'd been trained to do. “Sir, can you hear me? I’m with the Leck for this sector.”

Technically, the official department vocab guidelines said that an officer ought to specify “Law Enforcement Commission,” but the street slang was much quicker. Besides, who didn't know what the Leck was?

“Sir, I'm going to check you for any physical injuries. Please remain calm.” Thomas had never done this part alone before. Usually Elsie handled direct interactions. But she wasn't here yet, and the poor man couldn't have been dying, so Thomas began to systematically check for broken bones, careful to be as gentle as he possibly could be.

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The Quarter | I Just Wanna Feel Good Tonight

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Atticus shuddered and his top teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the feel of Gideon’s breath. He couldn’t help it. That was just one of those spots. It might have been assumed that given the fact he was a porn star and got laid for a living his sex drive might often be satisfied. At least under control given the fact that he spend most of his time fucking. This wasn’t the case however. His needs had in fact gotten worse since he got into filming.

He wasn’t sure if this was every porn star or if he was just a freak. Atty knew that Brooklyn had the same lifestyle problem but any day he got compared to him was a bad one so he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it to himself.. Maybe his body was just used to casual interactions ending with dicks and asses.

He watched Gideon slip away from him, suddenly looking far smoother than he did a second ago. He wondered if this interaction was going to end the same way. Knowing that this was his first thought should have sent him back to the bar to get wasted and forget that he walked the youngest looking person he’d ever left a bar with home. 

Instead of doing that however his eyes dropped over Gideon and he walked through the door and grabbed at his shirt to pull him through the door after him.

"Tell me you’re over eighteen." They’d already passed the physical get to know you personal space bubble so he didn’t feel awkward when his hand spread over over Gideon’s stomach like he needed to smooth the shirt down. The door clattered closed behind them but he didn’t give it a glance.

"And then maybe I’ll consider misbehaving." That was another thing that had changed with his job choice. He hadn’t been a smooth guy that knew what to say. HE was normally nervous and blushed more than he’d care to admit but these days it was easy to find that skill set.

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Gideon squeaked out a noise of surprise when Atty pulled him through the doorway. His jaw dropped a little, and his breath caught in his throat at the warmth of Atty's hand on his stomach. So much for playing it cool. He jumped at the sound of the door shutting behind him, but he didn't look away from Atty.

"I'm over eighteen," he said. Technically, it wasn't a lie. He was about two weeks over eighteen. Had he been sober, he might've felt a little more guilty about the omission, but as it stood, he just really, really didn't want Atty to leave. "I ain't 21, but I'm definitely not under eighteen."

Gideon was aware that he had a young-looking face. He wouldn't blame Atty for not believing him or wanting to go, but he hoped that he would stick around. 

He stepped into the lobby of the building, going to the elevator and mashing his thumb down on the up button. He could hear the elevator whirring as it moved down to the ground floor to pick him up. He offered Atty a smile as the doors open. "I'm on the top floor." He stepped inside and hoped that Atty would come with him.

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The Alvaro Base | You Move Me

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Guilt swept through Jace when he saw Remy wince. He had wanted to avoid just that. He guessed that given his injury he shouldn’t have snuck up on him in the first place. Though he wouldn’t define anything that he was capable of doing right now sneaking.

He gave a small warm smile to Remy when he said he was fond of him too. The words might not have meant what he wanted them to but they were enough to make him happy. that was beautiful enough in its own way and god he was getting tired and sentimental and needed to go to sleep about five hours ago. He leaned more against the wall so he didn’t have to support himself so much and watched Remy.

Jace’s expression became even softer as Remy finally started to tell him what was going on. Concern started to show when he noted the way Remy’s hands shook at his sides. At the final admission Jace made a noise and leaned to put his hands on Remy’s forearms, as well as he could with the thin perscription bottle in one hand. 

Hunters didn’t admit fear easily. They of all people should have been able to. They had plenty to be afraid of. Now that Remy pointed it out he could see it on him. They were still early on in their life on this base. That made it harder to tell comrades that you were afraid.

"We’re on a base with great security and amazing hunters. You don’t have to be the first line of defense, Rem." He squeezed his arms lightly before he let go. He’d lost track of the fact that his hands had been on him for so long. 

"They scare me too." With any other hunter he wouldn’t have asked what he did next. Most of them would be offended at the question as if they’d never been afraid of anything in their life. 

"There’s a couch in my room. Once I take a couple of these I’ll fall asleep anywhere. You could…stay with me if you wanted." He lifted himself off the wall and pointed at him. "But you have to take the bed. Broken ribs and all that." He narrowed his eyes at Remy.

"And you have to sleep.”

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Remy looked to Jace's hands on his arms. Jace's touch was gentle. Remy wasn't used to people touching him, and he certainly wasn't used to people being so careful with him. If he concentrated, he could remember the warmth of his mother's hands, smoothed over his forehead as she petted his hair to soothe him to sleep before bed. He could hear her voice, soft in the dark as she sang quiet lullabies. But it had been years since then, and the memories tended to sting more than comfort when he thought about what his mother had done.

He didn't blame her, exactly. After all, he'd left too, as soon as he was able. But he'd never understood why she hadn't taken him with her. She had always said that she loved him, that she would keep him as safe as she could.

He had believed her, trusted that she would be there. Remy had seen her the night she'd fled the house, seen her tearing across the dark fields that surrounded the crowded cottage. He hadn't said anything to his father or brothers. In his foolish youth, he'd assumed that his mother would come back for him. 

But he hadn't seen his mother since that night. He didn't know where she was now, if she was even still alive. His exhaustion made it harder to stave off the thoughts of her, so instead he forced his focus, looking at Jace. Jace's eyes were sad. No, not sad... Concerned? Remy's shoulder sagged slightly in relief when Jace said that he was scared of the Raclatimers, too. He didn't rebuke Remy for his weakness, didn't call him a coward.

Instead he offered to let Remy stay in his room. Remy had heard of these before. Sleep-unders, he thought they were called. It was an act of camaraderie. Jace's stipulations made Remy feel bad. Surely Jace was sore. Wouldn't he need his bed? But he knew that Jace was trying to help, just like Henley had been trying to help. Remy would have to apologize to her later for being so difficult.

"Oui," he agreed with a short nod. "That would be very pleasing." His eyes flickered back down the hallway, and he bit his lip a little nervously.

"I suppose I should go back for the painkillers."

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The Quarter | Want It With Whipped Cream On It

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Fairy cakes. This guy could say fairy cakes and make it seem like a run of the mill expression. Wrench knew better than to ask. He could connect the dots and se that it was probably an Australian thing. To be honest it was cute as fuck and he sort of wished it had carried over to America because in comparison cupcakes just sounded boring. HE shrugged with a smile and shook his head.

"Not a problem at all. That’s what I’m here for." He was here to do business. People buying up what he made was exactly what he wanted. If the customers happened to look like Pretty mcface in the process well he wasn’t gonna complain.

A bright but guilty smile surged onto Wrench’s face. He wasn’t subtle but he did try to at least look like he’d been caught. He felt that this was a common decency or he could at least trick people into thinking he was smoother than he was. 

"Callin’ me right out, huh?" Wrench leaned forward again when Malcolm produced a business card and flipped it through his fingers in a way that made his mouth a little dry. IT reminded him of someone dealing cards and he almost wanted to show off his own tricks but they could wait because right now he was actually getting…Malcolm’s number.

He took the card and tilted his head at the list of things. His expression ranged from very interested, to pleased and then amused.

"I definitely do…Malcolm." He smiled into his name and said it a little softer like he was telling a secret. He flipped the card back and forth a couple times before he slippe it into his apron pocket. He wasn’t going to say anything else but honestly how could he not when Malcolm was blsushing like that.

"For me. Personally. Not the cupcakes or anything else." He grabbed at the pile of napkins next to him then took the pen from behind his ear and wrote out his name and phone number. This was early but the guy had just given him his number and he wasn’t gonna miss the chance to see what the guy had up his sleeve. He held it out to Malcolm with a grin. This particular napkin had the words I’ll have what she’s having in cursive across it.

"You don’t get my real name until like the third date. It’s a rule I have. Though honestly a good massage good change my mind. Cake making muscles getting overworked and all that." He put a hand on his shoulder and rolled it like it was sore but that was a fucking lie.

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Malcolm, by virtue of his profession, was very good at reading people and discerning what it was they wanted. It was a difficult question, sometimes one that wasn't as clear cut as it should've been. Generally, once would think that a person would hire a prostitute so they could have sex.

But more often than not, people were lonely. Malcolm had spent many a night just lying in bed with someone while they held him and told him things that people normally didn't tell to strangers. Malcolm supposed that they were, after all, paying for discretion. And it was nice to have the break every now and then.

It was also nice to have a conversation with someone that didn't know what he did for a living. That wanted to be open and honest with him because that's who they were, not because they were paying him to keep a secret. Truly honest people were something of a rarity, and Malcolm was always glad to meet them. 

Though, if he were honest, it was really just part of the reason that he'd been so quick to give Wrench his number. Wrench was easy to read, sure enough, but he also had a kindness in his eyes, not to mention a smile that made Malcolm feel like butter on a hot pan.

And that wasn't even mentioning his arms. Malcolm knew that he was no slouch himself, but Wrench's arms looked like perfectly sculpted marble, and if Malcolm had to venture a guess, whatever he was hiding under his apron probably followed suit.

Malcolm's cheeks went even redder when Wrench not only accepted the card, but penned out his number on a napkin and handed it over. Malcolm took the napkin like it was a precious artifact, smiling at the icing font. His gaze snapped up from the napkin when he heard the words "third date." It had been a long time since he'd been on a real date at all, let alone a second or third. 

He was excited by the possibility, but at the same time, he felt a nagging voice in the back of his head. Bastian had recently recounted the story of his grocery shopping angel. When Malcolm had asked how the grocery angel had felt about Bastian's job, Bastian had laughed outright.

Malcolm understood why Bastian wouldn't want to tell someone that he was a prostitute when they'd just met, but at the same time Malcolm didn't feel comfortable flirting with Wrench like this and not telling him the truth. The baker deserved to have all the facts before he decided he wanted to take Malcolm out. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping that his nerves weren't too obvious but knowing that they were.

"That sounds like a dream," he said, glancing up at Wrench before nervously looking away. "And I would probably give an arm and a leg to go on a date with you, but you should know something first. It's only fair."

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the quarter

I just wanna feel good tonight

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The Quarter | Want It With Whipped Cream On It

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Wrench’s stomach dropped at the description of Jace. Roommate might’ve been a cautious description on his part because the way he talked about him sounded like attraction. He leaned further over the case when he turned his phone. He tilted his head at the three smiling guys on the phone. They all seemed happy and very comfortable with each other if the close touching was any indication.

Jace, who he did recognize as the stripper he’d seen just seen earlier that day which was weird. Someone getting sick could be sudden but this seemed very sudden. Jace had an arm around this guy’s waist and a finger poking the other man in the picture in a way that made him break into a large smile. The blonde’s smile was big like he’d just won a million dollars. Wrench figured he would’ve looked the same way with an arm around the aussie. 

"Yeah, I do recognize him. He’s not a regular but I’ve seen him." He nodded and leaned away. There was less excitement in his face now. He’d be surprised if two of those gorgeous people hadn’t gotten together. He rubbed the back of his neck and pointed his other thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

"We actually have some of those comin’ out of the oven in a lil while if you wanna wait. You’re more than welcome to loiter around." He spread his hand out on the case and smiled at the man’s interest in the shop.

"We sure do. Huge parties we have to know a good while in advance ‘cause it’s currently just me and Liz." He scratched behind his ear and did his best to look nonchalant but he wouldn’t be surprised if he failed entirely. 

"Throwin’ parties with your…roommates you said, right?" Wrench tapped his fingertips on the glass in a quick rhythm that helped psych himself up. Nothin ventured nothin’ gained. Could’ve been his slogan.

"So, they both just your roommates?" He didn’t hide the interest in his voice well at all.

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Malcolm could've bloody squealed when Wrench leaned over the counter to look at the picture. He wasn't exactly unaccustomed to handsome people being so close to him, but usually there was an exchange of money involved.

There were no such strings to be had here, and Malcolm felt like he'd unwittingly passed out of real life and into some magical safe place where he didn't have to worry about motivations.

Wrench emoted with his face a lot. Malcolm hadn't missed the waver of his smile when he'd talked about Jace, and he had a feeling that Wrench wasn't the sort of person to concern himself with maintaining a poker face when he wasn't in fact sitting at a poker table.

That was a kind of freedom that Malcolm yearned for. To be able to be utterly straightforward and honest and unconcerned with holding together the web of white lies that made navigating polite society possible.

"I'm sure they're worth waiting for," Malcolm smiled. "That is, so long as you're sure you don't mind if I hang about." He tentatively stepped closer by the slightest of margins. 

"I dunno about huge," he said, "but I might just pop in again sometime and see about buying a round of fairy cakes for work. If that wouldn't be too much trouble, I mean." He paused when Wrench point blank asked him about Jace and Bastian. Malcolm was not unaccustomed to people needing clarification. He knew that the three of them acted like there was barely any sort of boundaries between them.

"Roommates, yeah," he confirmed. "I don't have a boyfriend, if that's what you want to know." He said this with much more confidence than he normally felt. He felt sort of proud of himself. 

Malcolm's hand slipped into his pocket and fished out his wallet, producing a glossy, black business card. He turned it in his fingers in a way that he may or may not have known was a touch show-offish before holding the card out to Wrench.

"This is me." Bastian had gotten Malcolm a box of business cards for his last birthday that described him as a "massage technician" and "impassioned chef," as well as "amateur flutist," though that was more of an inside joke than anything. The important part was Malcolm's name and number, emblazoned on the black square in lavender lettering.

"You know, if you needed contact information or something," he added, his innate sheepishness catching up to him. A blush blossomed over his cheeks and in the tips of his ears.

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The Alvaro Base | You Move Me

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Jace sighed under his breath. Remy needed to sleep. It was frustrating that he didn’t know Remy well enough yet to be able to decipher what was going on by the sound of his voice. Jace winched when Remy stood up and worry clenched hard in his gut at the sight of him walking off by himself. Jace sat up and folded a hand over his stomach. He kept his eyes on the floor and watched HEnley walk to where she kept the prescriptions. His muscles were done with moving and he couldn’t wait to land in a bed.

"That’s your choice, Remy." Henley said as the other hunter walked off. "But sleep helps you heal faster." Jace had to talk himself into the first step that would ift him up and out of the bed. It still hurt when it happened. His legs wiggled underneath him and he felt Henley’s arm before he saw her.

"You both are gonna give me heart attack." Henley sounded more than exasperated and Jace gave her a sheepish smile. His muttered apology was just audible as she handed him over the bottle and gave him a stern look. She wasn’t going to get any fight from him on pain relief at the moment. 

"Can’t you chloroform him? Tranq him? I know we have tranqs." Jace’s eyes followed Remy even though he addressed Henley. She shook her head at the question.

"I’m thinkin’ about it." 

"Maybe he’ll listen to me if I say please." He moved away from her slowly and then followed after Remy at a slightly faster pace though his muscles weren’t very interested in doing that.

Henley let go of him and folded her arms over her chest and watch Jace go. She hadn’t been prepared for the fact that being the doctor also meant she had to be a kind of parent at the base. She and Ethan had developed jokes about it of course. They called themselves Mom and Dad. Magnus had started that one. Luckily she had life experience with her own siblings. She took the samples out from her pocket and waked over to the phone to call Paige and let her know she was coming down to the lab.

Jace caught up to Remy and touched his elbow lightly so he didn’t scare him. He pulled his hand back quickly. Even though they’d just been deep into each other’s space he wasn’t sure if he had free reign to just touch him.

"You need to be careful." Jace was obviously worried. "I need to know you got my back out there. You help make the team as good as it is." Jace’s lips twisted up into a crooked little smile. "Plus I wanna know you’re okay. I’m fond of you." He glanced away from Remy quickly then looked back over at him.

"You sure you don’t want anything for those?" He gestured at his ribs as he leaned against the wall in the hallway. "They have to be painful."

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Remy heard Jace before he felt the hand on his elbow. He turned, a sharp gasp rattling up from his lungs and threatening to escape before he clenched his jaw to suppress it. It was less from pain that it was nerves, but he forced his face into a wince.

He didn't want Jace to know that he had been spooked. His kept his gaze downward, worried that Jace would somehow be able to read the fear in his eyes. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. Jace was quite intuitive.

"Jace," he said, how voice soft and, much to his dismay, wavering. Any excuse he was trying to cook up in his head scattered to dust. Jace looked so vexed. Not angry, but obviously concerned.

And more than that, he'd said that he was fond of Remy. Remy's stomach dropped for a moment, and he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to accept the praise as if it were assumed; he didn't want to seem arrogant. But he knew that he ought to say something.

"I am fond of you, too," he said. He took a short breath, slowly lifting his head to meet Jace's gaze. Jace's eyes were the blue of the sky on a cloudless, summer afternoon. When Jace smiled, it lit up his entire face, and that piercing blue danced like stars. They normally made Remy's breath hitch just a bit, though this time his lungs had beat them to the punch.

"I do not mean to be a troubles," he said. "For you or for Henley. But if I take the pain killers, I will sleep." He paused, chewing nervously at his bottom lip. He wanted to word his reasoning carefully so that there would be no room for misconception.

"If I am asleep, I cannot... If the creatures come here..." The very thought sent a chill shooting up his back. He cleared his throat to relieve the tension that was wrapping around his vocal chords. "I would not be able to help. I could not protect your back." His fingers had curled into fists at his sides, trembling as he tried to suppress the fear that curled through him like a gust of icy wind.

"I am...," he trailed off, ashamed of himself. When he spoke again, it was in a barely there whisper, as if he were confiding his greatest secret to Jace. "They terror-fy me."

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The Quarter | I Just Wanna Feel Good Tonight

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A low laugh escaped at Gideon’s sigh. This could be a very bad idea but when Gideon grabbed onto his arm again he didn’t even think about stopping him. 

"I think I would." He admitted as Gideon walked him back the way they’d come. He was a clever little thing and he wondered how much trouble he was going to get him into. Maybe it would be the right kind of trouble.

Atticus looked up at Gideon’s building when they stopped in front of it. There was an internatl deabte about going up to Gideon’s place. He’d just met the guy but he also wanted to get to know him better. Patience had never been his strong suit. Then there was the added bonus of coffee. Wouldn’t go well with the alcohol in his stomach but it sounded good.

The painfully cute smile that made Atty want to kiss it away made his decision for him. Atticus tucked his other hand over Gideon’s arm that wrapped around his and pulled Gideon with him towards the door. Maybe he had some drinks up there that he could have and keep away from Gideon while he had some bread. He didn’t need anymore drinks.

"Alright you talked me into it. Besides I should make sure you manage to get up the stairs anyway, right? Mission isn’t finished yet."

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

"Do you really think so, or are you just being polite?" Gideon asked with a sly smile. He rested his chin on Atty's shoulder, letting a soft puff of air out against Atty's neck. It was only partially intentional. Normally he was much more shy about this sort of thing, especially with someone that he'd just met, but he felt a sort of kindred spirit thing with Atty.

He'd never had a girlfriend back home. Or a boyfriend. There had been a few sloppy, impromptu encounters under bleachers and in bathroom stalls suffused with enough heat that the air felt like a warm breath against his skin. The sum of Gideon's experience could be cataloged as two trips to second base and a tentative slide into third that had involved his first and only blowjob.

That last one had been wholly unexpected, and while not unwelcome, Gideon had felt somewhat guilty afterward. The person that had been so generous in affection had genuinely had a crush on him. Gideon had not returned the sentiment, and it had never been his intention to fool around that much with someone when he didn't want to pursue a relationship.

He wasn't sure that that would work out in this case. He'd only just met Atty, and he barely knew anything about him apart from the fact that he was handsome and had perfect, beautiful hair and a smile like a spotlight. Well, that and the porn. He supposed that was pretty good headway for a first encounter, but he also knew that he shouldn't expect a second one just because. Maybe Atty wouldn't want to.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to flirt back, just in case. He punched his code into the pad by the door, unlocking the front entrance to the building. As smoothly as he could manage, he slipped away from Atty in order to lean on the door, smirking a little. He put his weight against the door to open it, arms crossed across his chest like he was James Dean or something.

"Cause I gotta say, I wouldn't mind if you were a little less polite with me," he admitted. He bowed his head a little, sweeping an arm as he held the door for Atty.

[businessfae-deactivated20171006]

The Quarter | Want It With Whipped Cream On It

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This guy was somehow a little shy despite how he looked. The blush and foot scuffing like a damn cartoon gave him away. He’d actually done that unironically and it was fucking cute. He didn’t bother with trying not to stare. That was a lost cause. He could’ve appreciated his whole…situation for hours like a work of art because that was exactly what he was. 

Distantly he recognized that Lizzy had left but he didn’t bother turning around to see. His partner in crime knew what she had gotten him into. He braced his hands against the edge of the glowing case that was filled with ready to go treats for people that happened through. He could’ve put himself up as a sample right now honestly…

Was that….?

One of his hands slipped for just a second against the glass when Mr. Gorgeous spoke and he heard an Australian accent. He hoped to god this guy liked dick because Wrench was going to force his number into his hands before he left this shop. Judging from the pause and the staring he judged it at about seventy five percent that he might hit the lottery here. 

"I’m goin’ well." Even better now. His lips pulled into a bigger smile as he spoke. It was just his body’s response when he saw pretty people it couldn’t be helped. This guy looked like he’d short circuited a little. If he had to bet he was getting checked out too. He chuckled as quietly as he could when the other man recovered his smile fell in concern.

He also had to hold back a pained groan because he might be close to passing out. This guy was unbearably hot and going on adorable errands for sick roommates. Instead of passing out he might tackle him onto the floor. 

Instead of doing either of those things he tilted his head and his brow furrowed. 

"Bless your heart. That’s sweet of you. My cupcakes can cute a lot of things." He paused and looked at the napkin he waved at him. "Uh…cure." He took the napkin from him and turned it over with one hand. He expected some kind of order on it but the thing was blank. He smirked at that and looked back up. 

"I don’t know if the plague i on that list but I can try. Is your roommate a regular? Would I know their order?" He wondered if tall, Australian and gorgeous’s roommate had been holding out on him for very long. If he had that was rude. He cleared his throat when he realized that the guy would have no clue what Wrench would know. He’d never met him before.

Though Wrench wouldn’t have minded showing him over an extended period of time. In a bed…or on a counter.

Focus, Wrench.

"Or did you have somethin’ specific in mind?"

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Malcolm's head canted to the side just slightly. Had he imagined the momentary slip of Wrench's hands? Had the owner of the bakery just misspoken, or was the little switch of words deliberate? Malcolm hoped beyond hope for the latter.

He hadn't gone on anything remotely close to a real date in ages. His last attempt at a normal love life hadn't fared very well, but this guy was so handsome and friendly that Malcolm would be willing to put a toe back into the water. 

As Wrench inspected the napkin, Malcolm's eyes strayed to the turn of his hand. Wrench had lovely hands, and if the cakes and other treats that filled the display cases were any indication, then they were also quite skilled. 

"I think you'd remember Jace if you'd met him." Malcolm kept his hand parallel with the ground and let it hover an inch or two higher than where he himself stood. "About this tall. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Great smile. Looks a bit like he walked off the cover of a romance novel about cowboys." 

Malcolm didn't read romance novels, but he'd seen Bastian curled up on the couch with one on occasion, and he knew enough to know that Jace could've easily modeled for the cover of one. But describing Jace was somewhat difficult.

Jace was more easily conveyed by demonstration than words. He was motion that was hard to translate accurately. Malcolm thought for a moment before pulling out his phone, swiping his thumb across the screen. His wallpaper was a selfie the three roommates had taken.

"Here. He's the one on the left," he said, turning the phone so that Wrench could see it. "Anyway, he really likes red velvet cupcakes. I don't mean to be a bother; you seem busy, but I was just wondering if you happened to have any?"

"If you don't, then I think he'd be just as pleased with maybe something really chocolatey," Malcolm guessed. He generally worked under the assumption that both of his roommates could more or less live on sugar or would at least be grateful for whatever he brought home. 

"Do you cater?" Malcolm had no idea why he'd even asked. It wasn't like he was throwing parties that would justify catering. But he found that he wanted to keep talking to Wrench. He hoped that he wasn't being a nuisance.

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

the quarter

Want it with Whipped Cream on It

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The Alvaro Base | You Move Me

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Henley’s expression turned annoyed and exasperated. Remy’s tone wasn’t that of a guy that wanted to look tough but the words were the same. He needed to relax and admit that he was mortal. Their life was too short to pretend otherwise.

"Just because you’ve had worse doesn’t mean that you have to tough it out." Henley sighed this at him. She’d seen Remy hunt and his skills were stupendous. She had no idea that he was so bloody frustrating. Her brow furrowed as she stared at him. This might have been basic stubborness. He wasn’t exactly lying but there was an odd feeling that caught in her senses. She was gonna have to consult with Ethan about Remy and see what their commander knew about the kid.

The astika slid the needle out of his arm and nodded at Remy to let him know that she was done. She walked over to her desk to throw the needles into a sharp contained then her gloves into the trash can. She grabbed a marker off her desk to write names onto the sample. She stopped halfway through Remy’s last name at the last words he said. The way he said that made her brow furrow.

Henley could tell that Remy had seen some things. She recognized that much in him. Some hunters were young and gung ho without the rough experience. Magnus had been that way before their own attack. There was a tired look to the edge of his eyes now that he hid as well as he could. Henley’s voice and face were soft this time as she finished off the last few letters of his name.

"I just want all of you to be safe so I don’t have to work so hard." She chuckled and shook her head.

"You don’t have to look tough for us." Jace’s voice was tired and affectionate. Henley looked over surprised by the emotion in it. His eyes were half lidded and he was laid back in the bed again but his eyes were on Remy. His voice was rough and exhausted but there was a small smile on his face.

"We know what it takes to be good at the job. Take help where you can get it."

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Remy could tell that Henley was cross with him. He felt bad about this. He liked Henley, respected her, and he knew how stressful her work was. There was always pressure on any kind of doctor; he imagined it was that much worse for one that worked exclusively with people who willingly walked into danger every day.

Their unit was efficient and well-coordinated, so major injuries were less frequent than at other bases where Remy had been. Even so, it was impossible to avoid them entirely, and with the base being so close to the wilds, the beasts were bigger, and in turn the manner of the damage that the team took was often more intense. 

When Jace spoke, Remy looked surprised. It was still utterly perplexing to him that Jace wasn't angry at him, even though he had said as much several times. Remy opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it again, looking down. He understood why they thought he was merely being stubborn, and it was almost preferable to telling the truth. He would rather them think he was overconfident than know that he was a coward.

"I do not want painkillers," he said without lifting his eyes from the floor. His throat tightened, and he swallowed into an attempt to force the tension down. "They will make me sleep." 

He knew that that was precisely why Henley wanted to give them to him, and he knew that he needed to sleep, but all he could think about was the sight of his weapons, neatly laid out for him when he'd gotten back to the base with Jace. The Raclatimers were not scared to approach the complex, and if they returned... 

What if they managed to get inside? What if they attacked everyone while Remy was stuck in sleep? He wouldn't be able to help, though evidently he wouldn't be much help, even if his ribs weren't broken. But injuries notwithstanding, Remy cared about the people in the unit. And by some strange turn of events, they seemed to care about him, too. His stomach turned at the thought of any of them getting hurt.

Remy rose from his chair, moving slowly, careful not to stagger or show any sign of pain. He still wouldn't look up, worried that they would pick up on the fear in his eyes.

"I can go back to my room," he said. "It is no troubles."

[businessfae-deactivated20171006]

The Quarter | I Just Wanna Feel Good Tonight

[businessfae-deactivated20171006]

Atty continued to walk but stopped short when he felt Gideon’s arm slip off of him. He turned back around to look at him and now with the distance and confession between them he felt awkward. He could pretend he didn’t care what someone he’d just met thought about his job but he hated moments like these. Then Gideon smiled and his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t seem to care at all. At least not in a negative way. He pushed his hands into pockets and chuckled at the stripper comments.

"I’ve been to Eden now and then." The truth was he’d been to Eden a lot. He knew the owner personally. By personally he meant they’d banged a couple times. Maybe in the club once or twice. This wasn’t entirely relevant information. At least not yet.

"That’s actually one of my favorite strip club in the quarter if I had to pick one." Besides the trips he made to see Gun in the past it was mostly a social thing for him. Seeing people naked wasn’t much of a rarity for him. 

He felt a siren go off in his head when he said that he shouldn’t have been drinking when he was at Fever. He opened his mouth to ask how old he was. A point blank approach might have been better. He stopped when Gideon leaned closer. He could smell the alcohol but could just smell Gideon too. Between the two scents it was a little intoxicating.

He blinked at the words and he felt a drop in his stomach like the guy was about to tell him that he was fifteen. At least he hadn’t done anything yet. If his imagination could get arrested this would have been a very different story. The reality made him laugh and he lost track of what he’d been so worried about.

He reached up to touch Gideon’s chin with a smirk.

"I’ve got to watch out for you. You’re in trouble." He sighed and dropped his hand from Gideon’s skin.

"I didn’t mind the detour."

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Gideon smiled wide. He'd never had a conversation about favorite strip clubs before. Granted, Eden was half strip club, half straight up club, so Gideon wasn't really sure that it counted. But he still appreciated the honesty of the conversation. Atty seemed like a pretty straightforward person.

He also looked a little nervous when Gideon leaned in. Maybe he was scared that Gideon was actually a vampire and was going to bite his neck. Gideon's drunk brain almost opened his mouth to tell Atty that he wasn't a vampire at all, and he would never bite Atty on the neck. Well, not to drain his blood anyway.

Luckily, before any such thought could make itself into a slur of drunken words, Atty's hand made contact with Gideon's chin. It felt like heat burst from the point of contact, making Gideon feel warm down to the tips of his toes. He wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe this was what love felt like. Shep had always described it as a kick to the stomach and a kiss on the heart all at the same time, but maybe that was just how Gideon's older brother felt love.

Gideon mostly felt like he was wrapped in a cloud, Like he was rising off the ground and free-floating up to the sky. Now, part of that was perhaps the amount of alcohol he'd taken in, but surely part of it was that Atty was beautiful and funny and sweet. 

"Gosh, I hope that you'd watch me even if I weren't," Gideon sighed. He resumed his earlier activity of cuddling affectionately at Atty's arm, turning them back around and walking back towards his building. Gideon was all the way on the top floor, which he loved and hated. It was amazing when the sun was rising and setting, and he had a perfect view of city. But it wasn't so great when he was plastered.

"Do you wanna come up? I have coffee," he said, bumping his forehead to Atty's shoulder once more. "And bread."

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The Quarter | Want It With Whipped Cream On It

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Wrench was in the back of the shop with an ear bud tucked into one of his ears. He liked to have music while he was baking. Loud happy music put him in the zone to make delicious things. At the moment Outkast blared in his ear while he bounded around the steel tables in the kitchen to get to the over while he whisked some batter in a bowl tucked against his side. Most times he had his phone plugged into speakers but they’d had a weird sink speaker accident that had ended horribly for everyone.

That could have been because their kitchen was what most people would call absolutely trashed. They called it a controlled chaos, it was easily navigated by the two of them. They knew exactly where everything was. This was mostly his fault. His brain could be a barrel of monkeys that had to have several outlets to be contained.

Right now he had the presentations for the pina colada cupcakes already set up in a box one one of the tables. They were short martini glasses with a pineapple garnish and even the little umbrella. Those were for a particularly feisty sounding bachelorette party. The red velvet cupcakes had just gone in the oven and the little chicken shaped timer ticked away.

He bounced on the balls of his feet to the beat of the music and sat the metal bowl down with a clink on a mostly clear table in front of his line of ingredients. He picked up the pineapple juice and flavoring he’d mixed together and held it over the bowl  to start the pour in. He almost dropped the bowl in when he heard Lizzy belt out his name from the front room. He had to grab at the bowl several times before it steadied in his hands. He pushed out a slow breath and sighed with a drop of his shoulders.

He sighed at the flavoring all over his hands and walked towards the door with some of his fingers in his mouth as he backed out of the revolving door. He wiped his other hand on the apron around his waist but it didn’t help the tight faded red shirt that was obliterated by flour. His dark jeans weren’t doing much better despite the apron.

The front room of Cream and Shout was much nicer, it had to be or no one would believe they were responsible adults. The large cases shined in the bright room. Wrench had always been proud of it. 

"What are you screeching about you harpy?" His tongue went back to his hand but stopped dead when he stopped after his turn through the revolving door. His eyes got a little bigger as Outkast sang into his ear:

Lend me some sugar I am your neighbor.

He couldn’t help but agree. The guy in front of him was tall with arms made of dreams. Wrench had a good reaction time most days. He could play it cool with people he thought were cute but this guy was gorgeous. It took Wrench a breath or two to get passed the bright eyes against the dark hair and cheekbones he would’ve willingly hurt himself on.

"Hell." He breathed out then recovered as quickly as he could. "…Oooooo." He glanced at Lizzy and grabbed one of the napkins off the counter and tugged the ear bud out of his ear as he focused in. His eyes didn’t leave the guy in front of the counter and he hoped that they wouldn’t have to. Wrench pulled his best smile out and walked over to and lightly pushed Lizzy out of the way with his hip.

"Yes, this is Wrench." He glanced over at her with a smile. He had a feeling he was going to owe her for this moment. He wouldn’t mind being in debt for this.

"What did you need help with, darlin?"

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

It hadn't exactly been a slow day at Cream and Shout. There'd been the morning rush of people grabbing doughnuts on their way into work, and there'd been a more or less steady stream of customers for the remainder of the morning. But things tended to fall off around lunch time, leaving Wrench to take care of a few special orders. 

But then this fella had wandered in, all toned muscles and Australian-accented and with biceps for days. Lizzy's mama had not raised a fool, and she'd instantly thought that her boss would appreciate taking a gander at the male model sort that had just wandered into the bakery. Judging on the way that he'd reacted, she'd been right.

She wasn't sure, but it looked like Wrench was having some kind of religious experience. Or maybe a seizure. It was hard for her to tell the difference between the two. And then Wrench had slipped into charm mode as easily as a normal person would slip into pants. It must have been a genetic thing because all of the McNamaras could do it.

The customer seemed to be sufficiently charmed. He had turned pink in the ears and cheeks, and for a moment he just stared at Wrench, a little slack-jawed, before recovering and sheepishly scuffing at the floor with his foot. It was stupid cute.

Lizzy looked to Wrench, eyebrow quirked in a way that screamed "you owe me." But Wrench seemed fairly occupied with doing his flirtery, so Lizzy discreetly excused herself to the back. Someone had to finished those cupcake coladas, or whatever they were called.

Malcolm saw Lizzy leave out of the corner of his eye, but he was more or less completely honed in on the handsome man that appeared out of nowhere and called him "darlin." He had a southern accent, but Malcolm wasn't very good at telling those apart. All he could really discern was that it was different from the local accent.  

"How ya goin'?" he asked, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. He'd totally forgotten why he'd gone to the bakery for a moment. His brain nudged him, and he shook his head a little, trying not to let his eyes roam all over the expanse of Wrench's arms and chest and face and... Christ, he was pretty.

"Oh, um," he said, scrambling for words. "Cupcakes. My roommate has the plague? Well, not exactly the plague, but he wasn't feel well, so he asked for cupcakes. He said they had to be from here." He probably sounded like an idiot, but he was so nervous. He pulled the napkin from his pocket, holding it up as it that would clarify the situation.

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The Alvaro Base | You Move Me

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Henley was pleased that Remy actually listened to her. She remembered how stubborn some of the hunters had been after the first attack by these creatures. That had been one of the hardest and most traumatizing work weeks of her life. 

Henley pressed her fingers to the glass of the tablet and spread them to zoom in on the parts that looked nasty. When she found the breaks she knocked her glasses down from the top of her head to theb ridge of her nose with a hand. Her eyes narrowed at the screen. Remy had been walking around with three broken ribs. She lifted her eyes to glare at him through the glasses.

Dumb hunters and their dumb crazy ass idiot ideas. He was lucky he was already this hurt or she might’ve given him a right hook to remember. She shook her head and when she spoke she sounded exasperated.

"You feckin’ idiot. You’ve busted three ribs. Walking around like this could’ve punctured a lung if something stupid happened." She clicked a button to lock the screen then turn it around so that he could see what she meant. This was just foolish. She pointed out the fractures with her index finger.

Jace leaned to get a view of the tablet and frowned at the picture. His eyes snapped to Remy and the look he gave him seemed to be undecided and float between several emotion. Flattered and overwhelme that despite the pain he had to be in he’d been concerned about Jace. Anger at the fact that Remy had done that when he should’ve been decked out just like he was and the concern because Remy was really hurt.

"Rem," His voice was stern but worried. "You should have been laid out in a bed with pain killers not up wandering around." Jace moved back to his bed and wiped a hand over his face. Henley made a noise of agreement. Jace looked back over at Remy at his quesiton and swallowed. 

"JAce is capable of sleeping in his own bed with the monitors on. As are you. I imagine that would be more comfortable." Henley walked over to her desk, grabbed gloves out and then tugged them on. She crossed to a large set of white metal drawers and pulled one out and took out to syringes wrapped in the sterile packaging. She went to Jace first and pulled the two sides of the needle wrapping apart.

"I’ll be keeping an eye on both of you wherever you decide to sleep. Either way I’m taking a blood sample on both of you before you leave. We need to make sure all your levels are good." Her eyes went to Jace. "And that the toxins haven’t done anything weird since the last test." She gave Jace an apologetic look as he present the inside of his arm for her to shove a needle in. He winced at the feeling. He’d never been a fan of needles.

Jace looked over at Remy and considered his option while the vial filled up. He was still worked up enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stay in here with Henley going in and out of the infirmary. Remy looked desperate but Jace didn’t know what to do for that. His brow furrowed.

"My own bed sounds really amazing…and like ten sedatives." His eyes swooped back to Henley and she gave him a smile. "Don’t worry. I’ll knock out anyone that tries to bother either of you." She slipped the needle from his arm then squeezed his shoulder. "I can help you to your room if you want. Your legs will probably do that feckin’ jello thing if you try to walk on them."

Henley pulled the needle from the syringe and slipped it into her lab coat pocket. She tilted her head at Remy as she walked over. Her hands were busying prepping the second needle.

"I’m going to give you some pain killers. You’ll need them to get any sleep." She took Remy’s arms carefully so as not to jostle the ribs around anymore than he’d already done himself. She slipped the needle in and the blood started to come out.

"And I’m going to watch you take them, Latimer.”

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Remy took his scolding in stride. He knew full well how foolish it was to postpone medical treatment, especially with the injuries he'd sustained. He'd known that his ribs were broken the moment the Raclatimer had slammed him into the ground. He supposed that Henley thought he was being bullheaded, but he didn't know how to convey that he wasn't trying to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. 

It was mostly because he'd wanted to see that Jace was alright. He hadn't wanted to distract from that. But he also felt like he didn't deserve the attention. His father had drilled a simple mantra into his head. Pain and punishment were lessons. They were things that happened when a person made a mistake and had to be taught not to repeat it. Remy had certainly made a mistake. The ache in his chest was what he deserved for nearly getting Jace killed.

"I have had worse," he said quietly, glancing at the x-ray. He was trying to reassure Henley and Jace, not realizing that it probably sounded like he was trying to be unnecessarily stoic. To him it was merely fact. Broken ribs were no walk in the park, but compared to other injuries he'd sustained, they were far from the absolute worst. The ribs would heal. 

Remy watched Henley prep the needles. Jace looked uncomfortable. He must not have liked needles very much. Remy could not blame him for that; it wasn't like getting poked in the arm with a sharp object was ever any fun, but Remy imagined that after being paralyzed for several hours, it must've been especially bothersome. 

"I slept earlier," he added as Henley turned her attention to him. "I think I can fall asleep without the painkillers." He did not want to be any kind of sedated with the Raclatimers still out there. He watched the needle sink into his arm, going tense at the sensation. His blood leaked into the syringe, and he swallowed, uneasy. It was unnerving to think that his secret could be so easily exposed by something as small as a vial of blood. 

"I will be carefuller, I promise," he said, looking up at Henley. It as unlikely that she would budge. He'd accepted the painkillers from earlier, but it was entirely possible that he'd only taken one of them, enough to take the edge off without putting him completely out of action. He doubted that he'd be able to do so again if Henley was watching him.

[businessfae-deactivated20171006]

The Quarter | Want It With Whipped Cream On It

[businessfae-deactivated20171006]

Thank god for Bastian. He acted quickly and was the first one to touch his forehead. The quilt might have helped to make his temperature a touch more convincing but it wouldn’t have been hot enough for a fever. Not that Malcolm needed much more persuasion after Jace’s A plus acting skills. Jace looked over at Bastian and wondered if he was a genius or confused when he said he needed pepto. At the next question he had to hide a smile under the blanket. 

Bastian had to know what advil was. He’d had more than his fair share of painful positions he had to contort into for his job. Not to mention the hangover they got themselves sometimes.

When Malcolm turned to get his shoes Jace shot Bastian a smile and a triumphant wink from behind his glasses. These damn things were another part of pretending to be sick. Malcolm never would’ve believed it if he’d had the energy to put his contacts in. When Malcolm started to turn again the smile was gone.

"You’re a damned hero, Mal." Jace pointed at him dramatically." He sighed at the question and pulled his head out from under the blanket. He shot a look at the napkin he’d let from the bakery on the table and grabbed at it. The first time he missed, on purpose, and the second he pulled it out from under the edge of the bowl.

"The only thing that will pull me from my malaise is cupcakes. From here." He waved the napkin at Malcolm and the name of the place was like the logo, a calligraphy of icing in white with a blue outline. The address and phone umber were underneath it. The edge of the napkin had other lines of what looked like icing decoration around it. The slogan on the opposite side apparently rotated between different vaguely sexual jokes.

This particular one said baking that’ll make you go Ooooh.

"These could save me."

[theeiffeltowerisonfire-blog]

Malcolm could feel heat hit his cheeks as he blushed at Jace's comment. Malcolm definitely wasn't a hero. He just wanted to be a good friend. And while he was pretty sure that sugar wouldn't make Jace better, it might make him feel better, and that was just as important. The napkin came from a bakery just a few blocks away. Malcolm had seen it before but never ventured inside. 

He took the napkin, running his fingers over the stylized text that looped and curved across the material. He smirked a little at the slogan before carefully folding the napkin and slipping it into his jacket pocket. He stood and grabbed his wallet from the side table on the other side of the loveseat.

"Alright. It shouldn't take me too long. Just try and get some rest, okay?" he said gently, already heading for the door. Bastian stretched, walking around the end of the couch and sprawling out in the now-vacant loveseat like a cat in a sun beam. 

"Don't worry, love. I'll keep a close eye on him," he reassured. As soon as Malcolm was out the door, Bastian wriggled on the loveseat so that he was lying on his stomach. It made it easier for him to see Jace. "Alright. What's at Cream and Shout that you wanted Malcolm to see? Or is it a who?"

Malcolm walked quickly to the drugstore. That part of the trip was quick and easy. He plucked some Tylenol from the shelf, along with some tissues and Clorox wipes. They were running low anyway, and it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to sickness. Poor Jace had looked so pathetic on the couch; Malcolm hoped that it was just some twenty-four hour bug.

The bakery was another matter entirely. It was Malcolm's experience that people could spend hours in a place if it was full of things that they liked enough. His cousin, Tig, was one of those people that could wander around a bookstore all day. Malcolm knew this from experience, having spent the better part of a recent, rainy day following her around the local bookstore as she scanned the shelves. She had a full basket by the time they'd left, and she couldn't stop smiling about it.

Bakeries and restaurants were Malcolm's bookstores. He enjoyed cooking. It was good therapy, for one thing. He felt a sense of control and confidence in the kitchen that he couldn't seem to tap into in other areas of his life. Perhaps in another life he might have been a chef.

Maybe he still could be. He had yet to work up the courage to seriously give it a shot. He'd never been to culinary school, and he couldn't imagine that a restaurant would want to hire someone without any experience. Besides, he was content just to make his friends happy. 

He heard the jingle of a bell as he opened the door to Cream and Shout. He took a deep breath, smiling contentedly at the smell of all the different pastries. He tried to remind himself that he had a roommate at home that may or may not have had the plague, but he was pretty sure that Jace would be okay for just a few extra minutes. Enough time for Malcolm to browse around the store. Just a quick peek.

"Hey, can I help you with something?" Malcolm couldn't see the body connected to the voice, and the suddenness of it startled him. He visibly jumped, turning towards the counter. There was a young lady peeking around the side, broom in hand. She reminded Malcolm of a pixie, petite and with a smile that sang of mischief. He returned her smile.

"I came in to get my roommate some cupcakes. Do you maybe have red velvet ones?" he asked. "If you don't, then that's okay." The woman considered the question for a moment, leaning on the handle of the broom, one hand parked on her hip.

"I think we have a batch coming out soon," she said. "Lemme just check with management." Without looking away from Malcolm, the woman raised her voice, calling for someone in the back.

"Wrench! Customer needs your help!"