Summary: How I imagine MyTrax happens in the Store/Shop 23 AU from Omniverse. Takes place before the episode and plays with possible alien politics. I claim neither coherency nor canon-compliance.
earlier part
Twice is coincidence.
High Councilor N’mh’r looked at the numerous blinking data blips on his desk and flared his multiple nostrils in happiness. He hadn’t seen the surface of his office table in years but that was how he liked it. It meant things were happening; things that he and his fellow members of the Galactic Council allowed. Therefore, everything was going according to plan.
Of course, there were hiccups now and again. One data blip began to flash in a very specific manner, which meant this particular report was not only Classified Information but High Priority as well. Pressing a pink tendril onto the glowing cache of information, the High Councilor began to digest the incident report details.
Galaxy Date XYI-0023
The link between a series of corporate espionage cases and theft of rare artifacts has been confirmed. After careful inspection of the quadrant clerks, minute traces of Ectonurite-like residue were found. A comparative analysis of the samples (refer to the attached file UX59-OQi for further details) determined a strain of genetic mutation not found in Ectonurites but commonly in Pebissians. Said anomaly was detected in large quantities at the Interstellar Trading Organization’s main branch during a covert inspection conducted by quadrant clerks.
When a recently-hired Pebissian consultant (the Suspect) attempted to avoid questioning, onsite quadrant clerks deployed Galactic Enforcers (GEs). The Suspect then activated a device stored in his buckle, exhibited physical qualities of an Ectonurite, and attempted to phase through the walls. As part of their standard weaponry, the GEs were equipped with ectoplasm-nullifying ammunition and managed to detain the Suspect.
However, the Suspect refused to surrender and repeatedly attempted to turn intangible. A few moments later, the device released a shockwave, and the Suspect declared as having reactivated the device. The Suspect once again attempted to escape but the device emitted sparks during activation. The Suspect’s internal biological components then phased through his skin.
All attempts at resuscitating the Suspect failed. However, the device was successfully retrieved from the biological matter for further analysis.
The report alone wouldn’t have interested N’mh’r, but an ongoing legal battle over a pair of footwear came to mind. The Councilor narrowed several pairs of eyes before sending out instructions on what to look out for in the device analysis. Pink tendrils twined and untwined as he recalled past reports and arranged his thoughts.
So, there’s a new weapons maker in the universe, was there? The Councilor begrudgingly admitted to himself that, whoever this unknown alien was, they were smart. Smart enough to avoid immediate detection and smart enough to keep their identity concealed.
But not for long.
His network of quadrant clerks spanned galaxies. All N’mh’r needed to do was wait for his clerks to gather information based on his instructions and he would be able to deduce from there. In the mean time, pink tendrils coiled together as he considered his options on what to do once the inventor was in his control. He could manufacture some weapons to equip the Galactic Enforcers, but he thought against it.
Ultimos and his group had the bad habit of drawing the media’s attention. No sense in letting the universe become aware of how much power he wielded, not when he and his fellow councilors were happiest pulling the strings from the shadows. And what’s worse, Ultimos himself might cite some obscure clause in the Galactic Enforcer’s code of conduct that required full disclosure of the weapons manufacturer.
Although, now that he thought about, Ultimos was not alone in his way of thinking. There were individuals in the Plumbers who shared the Galactic Enforcer’s rigidity in observing the letter of the law to the detriment of its spirit. Surely he had a clerk or two who could obtain the laws the Plumbers adhered to. Again, the Councilor’s nostrils flared happily as he thought,
@rewhined recently did a MyTrax commission and what can I say? It rekindled my love for that specific alien OTP. If only the actual canon hadn’t driven me away (and ruined the tentacled goddess of my heart) I might find it in myself to finish this dumb-fic.
Summary: How I imagine MyTrax happens in the Store/Shop 23 AU from Omniverse. Takes place before the episode and plays with possible alien politics. I claim neither coherency nor canon-compliance.
Once is an accident.
It was the best purchase she’d ever made in her life.
Who would have thought that all it took to go from being a nameless, petty thief living in the slums to a lady of leisure with swanky digs was a pair of shoes? Well it was more about having enough speed to steal large amounts of credits and valuables while wearing said shoes. The first chance she got, she transferred all the money she made to an intergalactic bank account, bought herself a ticket to a new planet, and said goodbye to the rock she used to call home.
She had enough credits to buy herself a new life and she intended to live it up! No one thought to question how she came about her fortune. She was generous with the credits and as long as they were on the receiving end of that flow, most aliens didn’t care where it came from.
Eventually, her spending and excessive show of wealth depleted her reserve. It was time to bring out the shoes again. That was when it all went wrong because unfortunately for her, the planet she now resided on had an immigrant population of kinecelerans.
And some were employed by the local police force and security companies. Needless to say, when she was discovered she bolted. It wasn’t her first time to flee for her freedom. The problem was that this time around, the aliens she was fleeing from could keep up.
Fortunately for her, the shoes she purchased had higher speed settings, which allowed her to stay several steps ahead. Unfortunately for her, she could never quite outrun them and was forced to keep dialing up the settings, pushing her footwear and her own feet harder and harder in a desperate bid to stay out of jail.
Fortunately for her, the genius behind the shoes took into account air resistance, and gravity, and air pressure when they made the designs. The shoes would never slip off or come undone. Unfortunately for her said genius did not take into account the physiology of the rest of the alien wearing the shoes.
Her footwear could go on running forever. Until the end of the universe itself! The rest of her, on the other tentacle...
She thought the shortness of breath was because of exhaustion. It was, at first. Eventually, the reason why she found it harder and harder to breathe was because her lungs were collapsing in on themselves. Her internal organs were being crushed against her skeletal structure. And the wind burn on her skin was intensifying to painful levels.
Reports later detailed that the high-speed chase came to an abrupt halt when the thief spontaneously combusted from excessive friction and heat generated while running at such high speeds. The only remnants of the suspect came up to her ankles.
If the media didn’t have a field day over that incident, they certainly did with the political stink over whose jurisdiction this particular case belonged to. Plumbers insisted it was theirs because of where the chase occurred. Galactic Enforcers insisted it was theirs because the suspect was an immigrant from another planet.
No one mentioned (out loud anyway) how both parties wanted to get their hands on the shoes for “safe keeping” of course. And if that meant reverse engineering the shoes so they could integrate it into their equipment, well it was all for the public good.
Mikhail didn’t want to do this. Not at this time, not in this way, not in this place. But a dead squad leader behind him, the retreating backs of his squad-mates in front, and 2-meter class titans closing on him in the town’s alleyway forced his hand.
He wants to make them pay. She wants the power.
He’s doing this for revenge. She’s doing this to prove a point.
He’s quick on the draw. She’s already got her finger on the trigger.
And when they realize they can help each other, God help us all.
It’s almost sad, Charmcaster thinks, All this power in his hands and he’s letting it all go to waste. By choice! It’s all she can do not to roll her eyes when Michael goes on about the dangers of his abilities. In the end, she decides He just needs a different perspective and I think I know just how to do that…
She doesn’t act on it immediately, tempting as it is. Instead she waits when she’s a little more insinuated in his life, when Michael’s mother not only accepts her presence but actively invites her into their lives.
The Blackest Night falls from the skies,
The darkness grows as all light dies,
We crave your hearts and your demise,
By my black hand, the dead shall rise!
For hearts long lost and full of fright,
For those alone in blackest night,
Accept our ring and join our fight,
Love conquers all– with violet light!
They heard the oaths in their minds.
His was intoned, grim finality with the clawing hunger of the grave.
Hers was murmured, feathery soft with a resonance strong as steel.
Darkness consumed him. Light enguled her.
Power: cold, dank, and endless focused on his finger, shaping into an obsidian ring.
Power: warm, fierce, and fathomless gathered at her chest, forming into a violet gem.
In exchange for power beyond what his family’s wealth can buy, Morningstar swore an oath to High Priest Hex. Unbeknownst to the nobleman, Hex plans on using him as a would-be sacrifice to a Demon-God. Everything was going according to Hex’s plan until Charmcaster, Hex’s niece and a High Priestess in the cult, notices a spark of potential in Morningstar. Behind her uncle’s back, she makes Morningstar an offer that he would be foolish to refuse.
He opens his mouth and is cut off with a sharp "No."
"But you didn't even hear what I was going to ask."
Jo stares at him, unamused. "You were going to ask me to dance."
Well, he was. He can't deny it. "Come on, it's just one dance. And it's a fast song, not like at all like a Waltz."
"I don't dance," she snaps.
"Why not? It can't be because you have two left feet. You got great coordination and know how to keep time."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she grumbles, unconsciously preening at the praise but she remains seated all the same.
Brick says nothing more. He watches the other couples on the dance floor and tries not to sulk, his feet tapping to the beat.
"Can't you go dance by yourself? Or with the other losers?" she sighs, her fingers drumming on the table in chorus to Brick's feet.
"Never leave a man behind," he counters. His knee picks up the pace.
"You saying I can't keep up with these losers?" she eyes him. Her fingers matches his speed and raises the ante with her elbow.
"No, I'm saying I don't want you to be the only one here."
"Why?"
They don't notice it but they start to synchronize their tempo. Brick and Jo spend the rest of the evening bantering and teasing each other, like always. In the end they do dance. Her hands and palms on the table matching the rhythm of his legs and soles on the floor.
Catching up on ship-tags I follow. Suddenly filled with Jock feels. What is even my life...
The Race - 30 Seconds to Mars || Short Skirt, Long Jacket - Cake || Opportunities - Pet Shop Boys || She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby || The Dark of the Matinee - Franz Ferdinand || Love And Pain - New Found Glory || The Truth About Love - P!nk || One Thing Leads To Another - The Fixx || We Owe This To Ourselves - Anberlin || Kickstarts - Example || My Same - Adele || Show - Neon Trees || In Space - Ludo
Acknowledgement that this pairing has no chance of ever being canon. Acknowledgement that IDGAF of said lack of chance. I still ship it.
We Were the Victims of Ourselves - a Ben 10 Darkcaster fanmix
Boy Who Murdered Love - Diana Vickers || She’s A Lady - Forever the Sickest Kids || Rolling In The Deep - Adele || My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light ‘Em Up) - Fall Out Boy || Heartless At Best - New Found Glory || Heart Heart Heartbreak - Boys Like Girls || Sweet Dreams - Beyonce || Starry Eyed - Ellie Goulding || Kings and Queens - 30 Seconds to Mars || Lazy Lies - Capital Cities || Dream On - Depeche Mode || Broken Jaw - Foster the People || Goodbye Lovers & Friends - Franz Ferdinand || True Love - P!nk feat. Lily Rose Cooper || Mad Love - Neon Trees
Compiled for the bestest best Darkcaster shipper I know. I hope you like it, Hime! OuO
Just out cold with a bad cold. I'm sapped of energy to write, but I want to finish Malevolentney 2 of 2 and have a Jock drabble (More than the Code) in mind. Then there's a butt-ton of Springles prompts I need to tackle, and I need to write that AU not-quite-Duncney vs Courtne drabble where TDAS never happened because the whole show stopped at ROTI.
Augh someone take this wretchedly weak body away from me so I can spend more than an hour in front of the PC without needing to sneeze my lungs out ;A;
P.S. I am also tempted to write Jock smut. Should I go through with it? (y/n?)
Just an FYI, posting fanart on this blog is an exception, not the norm. The three recent Jock pieces were for my Total Drama Secret Santa, so if you decided to follow me hoping for more art, um, I'm sorry to disappoint you and I won't take it against you if you unfollow.
"Strange life I live but it's what you've decided.
I give it all in your hands, do what you will with me."
Jo didn't know much about fashion. Her own wardrobe consisted of track suits, sweats, cotton shirts, and other iterations of sportswear. She owned clothes that were simple, practical, straight forward, and often worn to death. Which wasn't to say she never toyed with the idea of wearing something feminine.
But when presented with the actual selection, she was at a loss on where to even begin. And because Jo didn't like losing in any way, she decided she would have nothing to do with girly fashion and kept to the old familiar clothing haunts.
And yet, here she was, pushing open the glass doors of the fashion studio and marching into the lobby. Heads turned and eyebrows rose as she stomped past in her grass-stained running shoes and dark track suit. Inquiring minds quickly flickered out of existence when they caught sight of the athletic woman's death glare and bared teeth.
Satisfied she sent the unwanted attention scurrying, she peered over the counter to inform the receptionist of her presence. A perfectly manicured hand held up a visitor's pass to Jo while instructions went flying at her in rapid speed, "You're expected in Workroom B. Down the hall. Take the elevator to the fifth floor. Look for the chartreuse door."
Rather than admitting she had no idea what exactly chartreuse was, the blonde accepted the pass and headed upstairs. She figured she could just demand the first shmuck she encountered there to direct her to the room. Worst case scenario was she'd have to knock on a dozen doors until she found the right one.
Turns out, she didn't have to do either because the instant she stepped out of the elevator, the very reason she was here in the first place was ready and waiting for her.
"Jo!" Brick's greeting came out like a Drill Sergeant's bark and carried throughout the floor, alerting the other fashion students of the blonde's arrival. The scene Brick's classmate found was not ideal in Jo's opinion, because he had her off her feet, and all but crushing her arms against her sides in a joyous bear hug.
There came a chorus of: "Awww, that's so cute," and "Get a room, you two!" and "You get 'er, Colonel!" And if Jo just didn't have her face buried against Brick's massive, muscular chest, she would have snarled out a litany of colorful swears at them. Instead, Brick got them to disperse with a laugh and a surprisingly commanding order that they return to their posts and finish their projects.
Once she was lowered back down and the feeling in her arms returned, she gave Brick a greeting of her own. One that involved her knuckles against his shoulder and eliciting a squeak of pain from him.
"That is for embarrassing me in front of all those people!" Jo fumed indignantly, her face beet red.
"You still pack a punch," Brick winced, rubbing the sore spot and grinning wryly. "I'm glad to see you're still training as hard as ever."
"Yeah, well, you're getting soft," she lied. And she was definitely lying because her arms still ached where he hugged her too tightly. Not that Jo would ever admit that out loud.
"Then it's a good thing you're here to keep me on my toes," he grinned before he led her to Workroom B.
Once past a bright green door, Jo realized even if Brick hadn't been waiting for her, she would have known which room was his. Brick's military background had a very obvious effect on the room, from the bolts of fabric neatly tucked to one side, to the swatches and scraps organized into plastic bins, to the dressmaker dummies standing at attention.
"I apologize for the mess. The contest deadline's coming up and I didn't have time to clean up better. None of us in class does, come to think," Brick laughed nervously as he went to retrieve an outfit from one of the dummies.
Jo stared in horror, not at the design because it was too simple for her to find fault with, but at the fact that "It's pink. Why is it pink? You never told me I'd have to wear something pink!"
"Oh is that all? This is just a mock up. I haven't worked with this particular type of fabric before and there wasn't a lot of the color I really wanted to use. Don't worry, Jo, you'll be wearing blue for the actual runway. Besides, it doesn't do anything to flatter your skin tone."
Jo, far too relieved that she wouldn't have to be seen in such an overly girly color, made no comment about Brick using the phrase “flatter your skin tone.” She relaxed and gave the outfit a better look, "I guess it's not that bad-looking. But you better not have made it a dress so I would trip up in a skirt."
" You've got great hand-eye-foot coordination. C'mon, Jo, you know I'd never do a thing like that," he sounded hurt at her accusation.
"S-sorry," she mumbled and meant every syllable.
"Apology accepted," he nodded, smiling warmly as he removed the dress from the dummy. "If you could put it on, we can get started with the fitting."
And get started they did. Jo emerged from behind the changing screen a few moments later while Brick patiently waited by his workstation. He looked up from the sketches strewn on the table and raised half of his mono-brow when he saw Jo was still in her running shoes. "The heels don't fit?"
"I don't do heels," she snapped, folding her bare arms across her chest.
Wisely, Brick said nothing and proceeded to take out the tools of his future trade. Pins, measure tapes, chalk, pencils soon joined the sketches atop the table and finally he dragged out a full-length mirror. Seeing her reflection, Jo instinctively flexed and grinned at the fruits of her long hours of training. Look at those muscles. Look at the definition of her arms and legs.
But then she spied Brick was on his knees and adjusting the dress. She suddenly felt way in over her head. Who was she kidding? She was too built to traipse down a runway in a fancy gown. She was probably bigger than two regular models combined! She was just going to make a fool of herself and what's worse, she actually agreed to do it!
No, that was loser-talk, and Jo was no loser! If anyone dared to laugh at her, she would tear their throat out and use their face for a glove. Yeah, that's what she'd do. And later, much, much later, when she and Brick are getting fitted for their wedding clothes, she'd tell him about what she would have done. And Brick would look her straight in the eye and tell her, I'd hold them down for you.
But that wouldn't be for many years from now. For the time being, Jo decided to come way out of left field and ask Brick, "What's shar-truce? It sounds like something Lightning would say if he was surrendering."
"It's just fancy-talk for green," Brick laughed as he inspected the skirt's hemline with his usual level of intense focus.
"Oooh, you're Mister Fancypants now?" she teased.
"That's Major Fancypants to you," he said, brimming with pride. "Could you maybe take a step backward as far as you can?"
When she did as request, Brick began to jot down notes. There were several more instructions, more poses, but none of them were particularly embarrassing or risqué. But seeing how this was Brick, the gentleman, Jo shouldn't have suspected him of such things in the first place. At least she knew not to say this out loud. What was spoken aloud was, "I'm surprised you didn't ask Zoey or Dawn or Anne Maria instead of me."
"Why would I do a thing like that?" Brick carefully asked with a mouthful of pins.
"It's just this is something more up their alley, you know?" she frowned, diverting her gaze away from the mirror, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious.
"No, I do not, Ma'am," he shook his head, looking up at Jo to meet her eyes, confusion evident on his face.
Damn it, where was String Bean when you needed someone to explain things for you? She drew in a breath and quietly told him, "I'm not exactly girly and definitely not model material. I mean, I scared the pants off Sasquatchanakwa and you passed out like a wuss in that model challenge."
"No pants or any other article of clothing was scared off Sasquatchanakwa. I used industrial strength glue."
She rolled her eyes, "That's not what I mean and you know it."
Brick meticulously finished pinning the piping into place before standing up. He was still studying the garment when he explained, "It's true you don't have the usual model aesthetics. But-" he raised his hand preemptively trying to placate Jo's anger, "I don't want nor need the usual model aesthetics. I designed this outfit with you in mind."
"What's your point, Captain Fancypants?" she snapped. She wished Brick's words didn't make her feel so flattered or heart beat so wildly in her chest. There was no reason for her to go on like this, after all, it's not like he just admitted that he thought about her a lot.
"My point is: I want to win this challenge. And to do that, I got to have the very best of everything, the best design, the best construction techniques, and of course the best model. I had to get the prettiest girl I knew. So I asked you, Jo. You got no idea how relieved I was when you said yes."
Instead of wearing the smug confidence of someone acknowledging her superiority, Jo sported the very brightest of blushes and adamantly refused to look at herself in the mirror, lest she see that she now matched her dress. "S-so you needed the best, eh? Y-yeah, I can see why you asked me," she stammered.
But composure was a long way off because Brick took this moment to look at her face and noticed the distinct shade of her skin. He grinned, "But if you'd rather I get Zoey or Anne Maria as my model-"
"Fat chance!" Jo hotly declared, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to bring their faces close together. "You're not cutting and running this time, soldier, that's an order!" She growled low.
Brick's arm swung into a salute naturally, and his dark eyes twinkled in laughter. "Yes Ma'am!"
"Good," Jo nodded, letting go of him and turning to face the mirror. She was surprised by what she saw. Jo didn't know much about fashion but based on the details added and the sections pinned back, it was very obvious he did. She looked, dare she say it, incredible.
"The over-all design is going to be neater than that, but I hope you like the general look of it. It's supposed to be functional for you too, although I'm not so sure this type of fabric's breathable but we'll find out won't we?" he babbled happily.
"It'll do," she shrugged, feigning indifference. She had a reputation to maintain after all, especially around Brick. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from her reflection as she turned this way and that, swiveling her hips to get a better look behind her. "I-if you need me to model something like this again, I could probably fit you in my schedule."
Brick lit up like a Christmas tree at her offer.
"Who knows, I might even wear heels for you. With the right outfit I mean," she added hastily.
"And in the end we'll both know who we are:
A body full of memories and battle scars."
It wasn't unusual for Jo to wake up before her alarm went off. (Or Brick's for that matter.) Even after ten years of marriage later, her competitive spirit was still very much alive. Her internal body clock had the time to adjust accordingly so that she still came in first in as many of their everyday routine as possible. Winning was a habit Jo had no intention of breaking.
And speaking of breaking... Jo's gaze turned to the sleeping form of her husband, the faint glow of his nightlight bathing his skin and the number of fading scars in amber. She would never say the remnants of injuries past marred his body, especially when he wore them proudly like a medal. Anyone stupid enough to make fun of Brick or point out his lack of coordination in front of Jo got a set of their own, courtesy of the athletic blonde.
Lightly, her finger traveled along the length of scarred skin, pausing at each mark in fond recollection of how exactly he had gotten it. There was the mishap at the tire tracks, this one from the sewing machine incident, this from when he and Jo wrestled over who would carry whom over the threshold, Jo chuckled silently at that one. When she came across a small stripe of skin where hair should have been growing on the side of his head, Jo realized she had no idea how or when Brick got that.
Rather than wait until sunrise, or for their alarm clocks to go off, Jo sharply shook Brick awake, unrelenting until she heard his drowsy slur of: "'M up, sergeant, 'm up!" She let go of his shoulder as she sat up, folding her arms across her chest expectantly.
It took Brick a few seconds to orient himself into waking, turning onto his back, peering up at his wife through half-lidded eyes. "Jo? 'S something wrong? Is it the kids?!" Brick scrambled upright and was on his feet by the time Jo managed to assure him that the kids were still asleep.
"They're fine, Brick. Back to bed."
He pivoted on his heel to obey the command without thinking, body reacting out of instinct and habit. He might have the stripes of a Lieutenant but Jo had the General's snap of authority. His sleep-addled brain certainly didn't hurt his obedience. He was halfway to completely burying himself under the sheets before he remembered he'd been so rudely woken.
"There'd better be some sort of emergency to wake me up this early, Jo."
She leveled a steely look before tapping the scar on the side of his head. "Where did you get that?"
Brick squinted at his bedside clock and grumbled, "You couldn't wait for me to get up in another hour, Jo?"
"No," she said with finality.
He propped himself up, dog tags glittering in the glow of his nightlight, the pads of his fingers running over the thin tissue of skin devoid of hair. He looked thoughtful for some time, both trying to recall the circumstances and wondering why Jo would be interested enough about it that she'd preempt his alarm. He cracked a lopsided grin at her, figuring both out, "You don't remember?"
"If I did, you'd still be asleep," she answered dryly.
Brick laughed with far more humor than a man abruptly woken from peaceful slumber should have. His patience cotninued to amazed Jo. But then he had to go ruin the whole mood by smirking, "You can't stand not having all the cards, can you?"
She bristled, opening her mouth to retort when Brick raised a hand, requesting she let him continue.
"I ought to let you stew until morning for interrogating me so early, but that wouldn't be gentlemanly of me, now would it?" And there was that grin of his, teasing and playful and open and honest. It made Jo want to kiss him until he couldn't breathe as punishment. But she refrained from taking the bait and nodded in silence.
"Remember that ice episode on Revenge of the Island?"
"The one where you sprained your arm and then your leg after you slipped on a puddle?"
"The editing team spared my pride, they cut out the leg part and everything else that happened after it."
Two figures lurched their way towards the Mutant Maggots' cabins, and it was a sneaker-clad foot that kicked the door open. "Alright, which one's your bunk, Sir Slipsalot?"
"Y-you didn't have to do this, Jo, Mike and Cameron were glad to he-"
"You really expect me to believe String Bean and Pointy Head's got enough muscle between them? And that's some ingratitude, soldier! I carried you all the way from the competition area without so much as a thank you?"
His face was a brilliant shade of red as he coughed in embarrassment, "It's not that, you shouldn't be in the boy's cabin, Jo! It's not regulations!"
With a roll of her blue eyes, Jo just scanned the cabin, noted there was no distinct difference between the girl's and boy's, and simply continued to drag the protesting cadet onto the most well-made bunk. However, as she shoved him down, his shirt came untucked and hitched up, revealing, "Whoa, that's a really long scar you got there."
Brick hastily tried to pull his shirt down, stammering, "Obstacle course mishap." Brick wasn't normally so shy about his injuries, and especially not with Jo, but they were alone in the cabin. And the thought of undressing in front of a girl, even when it was by accident, flustered him.
But not as much as when Jo rolled up her sleeve to show off a scar of her own, "Bet it didn't need as many stitches as mine. Shot putt injury, but don't worry, you shoulda seen what happened to the other guy."
And just like that, the competition was on to demonstrate their toughness and endurance and just how much of a beating they could take. So far, they were evenly matched, stitch per stitch. Location-wise, Brick knew he had a trump card but he was halfway through telling her that he's got a doozy of a scar where the sun didn't shine when he remembered they were alone in the cabin. And then he realized they were in various states of semi-undress (because Jo wore running shorts and a gray tank top underneath her track suit).
He tried to take it back, to concede defeat to Jo, but her curiosity and competitive edge had gotten the better of her and refused to let him off the hook so easily. With his right arm and left leg in need of medical treatment (the interns hadn't gotten around to bandaging him up), it was hardly any challenge for the blonde athlete to have him pinned underneath her.
"I surrender, Ma'am! I cry Uncle!"
Jo frowned down at him, her hands were clamped tight around his belt buckle but then it seemed like the situation finally dawned on her as well. There came a pair of gasps by the doorway, followed by a crotchety voice of "YOU DARN KIDS 'N YOUR INDECENT HANKY PANKY!!! IN MY DAY, WE HAD THE COMMON COURTESY OF LOCKING THE DOOR TO SHIELD INNOCENT EYES!!!"
"This isn't what it looks like, Chester," Jo snarled as both she and Brick turn bright red at the accusation. And then there was a flash of a camera and an intern scurried away for dear life. It all happened in an instant, Jo leaped off Brick to retrieve the incriminating photo, she rolled onto her feet and was out the door, chasing after the intern.
"Oh yeah, I caught up to him in the editing room. And then I demonstrated to the editing team just why they didn't need to use any footage that involved the Mutant Maggots for that episode," Jo grinned wolfishly then her brows knitted together. "Hey wait, that doesn't explain how you got that."
"I was getting to it, see when you jumped off me, you sorta accidentally kicked me towards the bunks. And with the cheap wood and complete lack of varnish, I ended up cutting myself. Lucky I didn't get a concussion a-and that it wasn't a deep cut!" Brick quickly added, seeing the look of horror on his wife's face. "Cam and Mike and Zoey knew how to deal with head wounds. They patched me up easily enough, I'm a very cooperative patient. You went straight back to the girl's cabin and come the next morning, I was right as rain."
"I, I didn't realize, I didn't know!"
"Water under the bridge, Jo. I know you didn't mean it. I mean, if I should hold a grudge over anything, it should be for the one you gave me on my posterior."
"Hey! You said you didn't mind that one because no one's ever going to see it! Besides, it was only fair after the one you gave me in my inner thigh."
"If you just wore the safety harness like I asked you-"
"Don't try to win this argument, soldier," Jo snapped, poking him in the chest.
"I'm not, I'm simply explaining myself." And he went on at length explaining the difference between what Jo was accusing him of and what he was doing. Eventually, his wife rolled her eyes and decided it was time to shut him up.
By yanking at his dog tags and kissing him.
"You fight dirty, Jo," he murmurs afterwards, breathless.
