Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2017-12-31 10:14 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2017-12-31 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
- +rp: zara ae'lorin,
- bones: lance sweets,
- canon: bones,
- canon: dc extended universe,
- canon: dctv,
- canon: everworld,
- canon: falling skies,
- canon: marvel cinematic universe,
- canon: newsflesh,
- canon: star wars,
- canon: supernatural,
- canon: teen wolf,
- canon: vampire diaries universe,
- dceu: bruce wayne,
- dceu: clark kent,
- dceu: lois lane,
- dctv: zari tomaz,
- everworld: david levin,
- falling skies: hal mason,
- mcu: jessica jones,
- mcu: peggy carter,
- mcu: steve rogers,
- newsflesh: maggie grace garcia,
- prompts: plurk meme,
- ship: allison/derek,
- ship: ben/elena,
- ship: bonnie/stefan,
- ship: bruce/jessica,
- ship: clark/lois,
- ship: david/zara,
- ship: derek/katherine,
- ship: hal/olivia,
- ship: maggie/sweets,
- ship: peggy/steve,
- star wars: poe dameron,
- supernatural: ben braedan,
- supernatural: olivia winchester,
- teen wolf: allison argent,
- teen wolf: derek hale,
- tvdverse: bonnie bennett,
- tvdverse: elena gilbert,
- tvdverse: katherine pierce,
- tvdverse: stefan salvatore
plurk meme { 2018 } kissy fics iii: the smooch reckoning
Request Plurk
tifa }
zi }
david/zara | knights of legend | 900
Battle scenarios are easy to decipher. Some of them can be complicated, it’s true, but there’s still something black and white about them. The objective is to win. It doesn’t require the nuance of diplomacy which is what this particular mission is leaning on. Which is also why he’s hanging to the back of the crowds, moving only where Zara leads him and trying not to draw too much attention to himself. It’s difficult to do, when you’re as large as he is, but he tries. He almost manages to successfully blend into the background until Zara glances over at him with a smile that he should have known would indicate trouble.
“Would you like to dance?”
“What?” is his very eloquent answer.
Her smile is thin but insistent, and while he knows that she knows that he isn’t asking her to repeat herself, she does all the same. “Would you like to dance?”
Since he’s likely not going to be able to get away with the same question twice, and it’s unlikely that it would be found believable that a woman as beautiful as Zara would be turned down by her escort for a dance, he swallows hard and nods, offering her his arm as they move towards the dancefloor.
“I apologize in advance if I step on you feet.”
She laughs, before shaking her head. “I think you’ll manage. The dance isn’t a particular fast one.”
“You may regret absolving me of this later.” He stops and takes up the traditional frame, one hand in hers, the other lightly on her waist, and it doesn’t stop her from stepping in, getting closer and David swallows hard. “Especially if you’re going to be this close.”
“Do you have a problem with closeness?” He doesn’t really have an answer to that, and she tips her head to the side curiously. “Timid is not something I would have expected from you.”
“Some things come easier than others.”
She smiles at him, and he wishes not for the first time that he could tell what she was thinking. She reminds him of April in so many ways, a woman of faith from a world with kinder gods – or at least that’s what she’s given him the impression of. The Judeo-Christian god has also never really given David the impression of being particularly kind, but that’s just his impression. He swore off that kind of thing a long time ago. It isn’t just her faith, though. It’s her warmth, her sense of leadership, her way with people that David has always envied. So he just does what he would do with April – he lets her lead and hopes that he won’t find himself in a situation that’s the opposite of that.
“You remind me of someone I used to know,” she says softly, halfway through the song, and he glances over to her in surprise. “Her name was Celdori. She was part of my royal guard.”
He’s quiet for a moment, trying to pick apart what those two things have in relation towards each other, beyond the obvious. If they are going to connect any member of this team with a bodyguard, it’s going to be David Levin. But he senses that there’s more to it than that. “What about her?”
“Stoic, reliable, solid.” Zara pauses for a moment and he can see the fondness in her expression, mixed with something else he can’t quite read. “She always had my best interests at heart, even if I didn’t always see it at the time.”
“And you think that I’m the same?”
She gives a small shrug. “She also had a very hard time telling me no as well. Especially when it came to something that made her feel uncomfortable.”
Then his head ducks a bit sheepishly. “Am I that obvious?”
“Apologizing in advance usually gives you away.”
“Good point.” His eyes drift over her shoulder for a moment, noting the people they’re there to see beginning to make their approach again. “I just like to think I know when to follow someone else’s lead.”
“You do it gracefully.”
“Miss Ae'lorin? Mr. Goggins will see you now.” The man pauses before glancing over in David’s direction. “Without your escort, if you don’t mind?”
She looks back at David uncertainly, and he nods. “It’s fine.” He leans in, bringing one hand up to his lips. As he brushes a soft kiss to her knuckles, he slips one of the wireless comms into the palm of her hand. “I’ll be here when you finish.”
She nods as her fingers curl around it, before she gives a polite smile in return. “Thank you for the lovely dance.”
“My pleasure.”
He then turns to exit the dance floor, one hand coming up to slip his own comm in his ear so he can hear things as they proceed. Gus comes up alongside him, holding out a glass of champagne which he takes with a nod.
“I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but you do know that the best time for romantic heart to hearts is not the middle of a mission, right?”
David rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”
Gus grins, before patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Romeo. I’m sure you’ll have another shot before the night is out.”
rose }
peggy/steve | marvel cinematic universe | 1,281 words
It’s the only true way to describe it. She’s seen a few different event horizons in her time, what with the nuclear weapons they used in Japan towards the end of the war, and she wants to say that’s what this is, but in some ways it’s not the same at all. For one thing, when it closes, everything reforms just the way it was.
For another, it ejects two people with it.
“Well. That was decidedly unpleasant. Did we at least land in the right place?”
“I’m not sure.”
The first man seems to be in some kind of elaborate costume, like something out of a fantasy film. Her eyes narrow, promptly ready to tell him off, when the second man moves, and everything in Peggy stills all over again. The beard is a distraction, but she would know the shoulders, the profile and the voice that comes with it anywhere. Especially when she thought she would never hear it again.
The shock of it all lasts for only a moment, before she manages to steel herself again. Even if it is Steve, she still needs to do her job. The men continue conversing as though they don’t even realize she’s there – they probably don’t – so she makes her presence known as only Peggy Carter can.
“Perhaps I can clear that up for you.” How her voice manages to stay firm is beyond her but she manages, by some miracle. The second she speaks, she sees Steve’s shoulders stiffen, and he very slowly turns to face her. She knows him well enough to know that this isn’t the man she lost to the ice years ago now. This is someone completely different.
The sight of him still makes her chest tighten all the same, no matter what she’s missed.
“Agent Carter.”
“Captain,” she replies softly, and the other man glances between them for a moment, almost as though he’s trying to read the threads between them.
“I recognize that this seems to be an important moment for the two of you, but we don’t have much time before the singularity opens again …”
“Go find what we’re looking for. I’ll deal with this.”
The man has the good sense to dart off and look for whatever it is they’re searching for, which is good, because that sentence is enough to set off her temper far more quickly than anything else would have. “Deal with this? Am I something to be dealt with now, Captain?”
His face immediately softens as he moves closer, trying to close the gap between them, and when he gets too close she takes a step back. His hands ball into fists at his sides, taking a moment and a breath before he tries to explain himself. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You usually don’t. And yet you say it anyway. Good to see that some things never change.”
“Peggy.” His tone is soft, personal, and she glances away from him, trying to keep any emotion that isn’t anger in check. This is not the crisis she needed dropped on her doorstep today – that much is certain.
“How long have you been back?”
“I’m not. Not yet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“They haven’t found me yet. They won’t for … a while.”
“So what? You’re time traveling?” She meant to say it as a joke, but the look on his face as she does makes her regret that she opened her mouth at all. “Time travel?”
“Sort of. It’s a really long story, but … yeah.” He takes another step closer, glancing around to see if his friend had returned yet, and when he hasn’t and Peggy doesn’t step back, he reaches out and takes her hand gently. “They find me in the ice eventually. The cold helped keep me alive, or something like that.”
“Where?” The question is quick and urgent, because maybe this is the key that she and Howard have been looking for all along, but he’s going to disappoint her there too.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“And I didn’t tell you?” Peggy’s eyes narrow, searching for what the lie of omission is in the way he’s dealing his information. “Not Howard either, I take it?”
There’s something that crosses his face, an expression she doesn’t fully understand, and Steve just moves closer again, taking her other hand and keeping her close. “I can’t really explain. It might change things, and as much as I may want them to, some things need to happen a certain way.”
“You have to give me something.” Her voice strains with the word, making a half hearted attempt to pull her hands away which he thwarts, keeping her close for the moments while he can. “Some kind of an explanation or a … hope.”
He releases one of her hands, and lifts his own to brush at her cheek, fingers delicately tucking her hair behind her ear. “I find my way back to you. I promise you that.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not quite the truth either. It’s probably for the best that it’s neither – Steve Rogers had never been a particularly good liar to begin with.
She’s about to call him on that, but they’re blessedly interrupted by his companion rounding the corner with a box, and he straightens and drops his hand. “Found what you’re looking for, Doctor Strange?”
At least the name is appropriate.
“I believe so.” He twists his wrist to glance down at his watch. “And with a few minutes to spare. Best say your goodbyes, Captain.”
Steve turns back to her, giving her hand a squeeze as he tries to figure out what to say to her, and instinctively she wants to pull away and not give him the chance to say goodbye again, but it’s almost as though he can tell and he tightens his grip to keep her place.
“Peggy – ”
“No. I’m not letting you kiss me goodbye again.” Not again. Not when it’s so rare that they actually get to say hello, and she doesn’t know when she’ll see him again.
“It’s not goodbye,” he says softly as he moves in again, his hand returning to cup the apple of her cheek. She can feel the grit on his gloves, but for the moment she doesn’t care. “It’s … see you soon.”
“I’m not sure that’s much better.”
“I’m afraid it’s the best I’ve got.”
She pauses for a moment, watching him carefully. Part of her thinks she should walk away, but the other part, the louder part, thinks that she should take what she can get. As much as he promises he’ll see her soon, there’s no promises as to how soon that’s going to be. She takes a deep breath, before pushing up on her toes and leaning in to kiss him, one hand moving to his shoulders to steady herself, then pulling back with a soft sigh.
“We really need to stop ending like this.”
He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, as the world splits open again, and he lets her go. It’s not long before Steve and his strange companion are disappearing through a whole in the world again, and as the wall seals behind them, she takes a deep breath and sinks into a chair behind her.
Five minutes. Five minutes of feeling before she figures out what they took and how she’s going to cover for them. Unfortunately, with the weight sitting on her shoulders, she isn’t sure five minutes is going to be enough.
katie }
kisa/seth | from dusk till dawn | 1,223
Seth glances up from his rapt observation, looking over at Kisa with an amused smirk. “What? You waited a thousand years for revenge and now you can’t handle a simple long game?” The glare that she fixes him with answers that question and he laughs, shaking his head. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Your plan is a bad one,” she replies, tipping her head to the side in response. “You sitting here is just going to get us ‘made,’ as you call it, and we’re going to have to start all over again.”
The bank sitting across the street from the house where they were staying has had a steady stream of people coming in and out of it all day and Seth has also been there all day, taking in every detail that Richie may need to make an adequate plan. Kisa has also been criticizing his technique for the same amount of time, opting not to go to sleep while the sun was up and watching Seth’s every move.
“I’m sorry, who’s the professional bank robber here, me or you?” He raises his eyebrows in response to her silence. “Who is the one asking for a favor, me or you?” At that, she actually looks away, turning her attention back to the mug of warm blood in her hands. “Thank you. Just let me do my job.”
“I’m sorry. But we just can’t risk …”
“I know what’s at risk.” Fate of the world, fate of the culebras, another big bad to destroy – he doesn’t know when this particular madness became his life, but it is now, and he’s doing the best he can with his limited human existence. “Just trust me.”
“You do realize that those are the three most ridiculous words you’ve said all afternoon.”
He huffs, before turning to face her more, tipping his head to the side. “Eventually you’re going to have to trust someone, Kisa.”
Kisa glances back at him curiously. “And what makes you say that?”
Seth swallows, before closing the curtains and making his way closer, resting his elbows on the back of the couch where she’s sitting. “Unless you decide to intentionally walk out into the sun, you’re going to be living a good long while. You can’t expect to do that alone and stay sane.”
“And what makes you think I need to trust someone in order to not be alone?”
“Because it’d be pretty shitty of you if you just expected other people to give and gave nothing back in return.”
She purses her lips again. “And why do you think I should trust you?”
“Honestly, I don’t have a good answer to that one. But you’re the one who keeps coming to us for help. There must be something you like about us.”
There’s an expression that tries to escape her steely exterior that might almost be a smile, but she reins it in, tipping her head to the side when she hears something moving. “Richard’s awake. We’re going to have to move soon.”
Seth huffs, before pulling back with a nod. “Yeah. Whatever you say.”
By the time the sun’s getting ready to rise, they’ve escaped the bank with minimal casualties, and the steel safety deposit box is resting in Kisa’s hands. Richie’s gone off to do whatever it is that Richie does, leaving the two of them alone in the motel room they commandeered. Seth watches her play with the edges of it, almost as though she’s tempted to open in, and he just watches her curiously over the top of his beer.
“So. What is this weapon of mass destruction?”
“It’s not a weapon,” she says quietly. “At least, not in it’s intention.”
One eyebrow raises as he goes to make his way closer. When he’s close enough she sighs, before flipping the top open to reveal a gold plated necklace, with metalwork that winds around a brilliant blue jewel.
“It’s a protection amulet. Spelled to protect the wearer from anything that might do them harm.”
Seth frowns, confused. “You’re right. I’m not sure how that’s a weapon.”
“For a culebra, that includes the sun.”
It takes a moment for her words to sink in, along with the message that she’s been giving since the moment she asked for their help. It’s too powerful if it falls into the wrong hands. If one of the more powerful or sadistic culebras got their hands on it, that means a lot of people could get hurt. But in Kisa’s hands …
“It needs to be destroyed.” Her words are sure, almost as though she can read his mind. “It’s too risky for even the most worthy of us to have it.”
“Even you, the one culebra people love as much as they fear?”
“It isn’t about love or fear. It’s about fairness.”
“You never wanted to be this, Kisa.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Maybe in her mind, she’s killed and harmed enough innocents in her pursuits of revenge that she didn’t deserve it, but for the moment, Seth doesn’t care. He reaches into the box, taking the necklace in one hand before taking Kisa’s hand with the other.
“What are you doing?”
She doesn’t fight him, letting him pull her to the door, and he quickly drapes the necklace over her head before she can tell him no. She starts to protest, but he’s already quickly shoving her out the door into the sun. He watches her face as the sun caresses over her skin, feeling the heat of it, but not bursting into flame. Something in her face shatters, a small piece of that façade crumbling as she closes her eyes and tilts her face back into it, soaking up the early morning warmth. Seth just lingers at the door and watches her from the doorframe, letting her have the moment for as long as she’s willing to.
Eventually, her eyes do open, and her fingers come down to close around the necklace. Then, she turns back to Seth, and makes her way back into the motel room.
“You shouldn’t tempt me like that.”
“You’re welcome.”
She’s glaring at him again, but it doesn’t have the heat it normally does. Instead, she watches his face for a moment, before leaning in and kissing him soundly. He’s not expecting it, but melts into it all the same, one hand wandering to her waist lightly to keep her close. When she does break the kiss, she picks up his hand, taking the necklace and placing that in his hand.
“Make sure that goes somewhere no one else can find it.”
Seth swallows and nods. “I will.” She saunters away from him, heading back into the motel room, and his eyes follow her as he closes the door. “So are we going to talk about that –”
“Talk about what?” She asks, raising an eyebrow just outside the edge of the bathroom, but he can pick up something along the lines of amusement in her features. He raises an eyebrow in return, and he smirks. “Maybe I’m working on my trust issues,” she teases, before the bathroom door closes behind her.
Seth stares at the empty space left behind for a moment, before shaking his head. “Trust issues, my ass.”
alison }
allison/derek | potus | 1,400
There’s a thin smile as she swallows that comment from her grandfather, the first to break the silence of forks scratching against plates and minimal eye contact. Family dinners with the Argents are never the warm, engaging evenings that they should be, and always seem to come down to an interrogation – in this particular instance, the interrogation happens to be Allison’s love life. She’s sure that Kate is grateful for the reprieve, even though this conversation will be nothing compared to that time Kate denounced going into politics and said she wanted to spend her time backpacking across Europe, Allison does know she has to navigate it carefully, and hope that lies of omission aren’t enough to trigger Gerard’s lie detector ability.
“No one in particular, no.”
In a way, that answer is the truth. She and Derek haven’t been seeing each other long enough to be considered “seeing someone” and he was being deployed soon, so will likely be gone before anything about this relationship can go anywhere. It is, for the moment, a fairly innocent encounter between two people who are invested in the bipartisan solutions her grandfather seems to be forgetting. Change is important, and the people who are currently wrangling for control seem to have forgotten that – he grandfather more so than most.
“I see.”
She also knows, however, that her grandfather doesn’t bring anything up lightly, so odds are he does know something about Derek. She’s less than thrilled with the prospect of having to discuss her love life with her grandfather, but this is where the conversation has led, and he is the one who taught her long ago that the people who back down too easily always have something to hide.
“That’s just an odd answer, as a little birdie told me that you have been spending a great deal of time with Derek Hale.”
And there it is. She swallows again, straightening in her seat, and raises her eyes from her plate so that she could meet Gerard in his challenge – he didn’t teach her to do anything less, after all. “Did this little birdie happened to be named Matt Daehler?”
“Who it came from doesn’t matter,” Victoria replies from her seat next to Gerard. “Answer the question, Allison.”
She eyes her mother for a moment, feeling the pressure in this decision as both of them have their eyes on her now. She’s lucky that her father is sitting next to her, rather than across from her, as she doesn’t think she’d want to deal with the curiosity in his eyes either.
“Yes. Derek and I have had dinner a few times.” She adjusts her position in her seat and tries to keep her eyes steely, so as not to give her real feelings away. She’s tired of her grandfather having a say over her social life, but she doesn’t think that she’s ever going to be able to stop justifying herself to him, and everyone else at this table. “I wasn’t aware that was against the law.”
“Of course not, Allison,” he begins slowly, lowering his fork for a moment as he lifts his napkin to brush at his cheeks. His voice is deliberate and careful, the kind of tone that usually comes before some kind of reprimand. Clearly she is not performing up to the family standards, and that is a situation that needs to be rectified. “Were this any other time, I’m sure you and the young Corporal Hale could engage in quite the spirited … political debate. I’ll admit that when I was young, I kept company from both sides of the aisle.”
“Something that would probably serve you better now, if you ask me.”
“Allison.” Her mother’s tone is scolding, almost as though she’s twelve, rather than twenty four, but she takes a deep breath before she continues.
“I’m sorry. You were saying?”
She’s testing his patience. She knows that, better than anyone else. She can see the way the tension is forming around the corners of his mouth, but his strangle hold on her life has to end, and she doesn’t know any other way to end it than to push back in whatever way she can.
“I’m saying that it’s about loyalty, Allison. We’re in the middle of a campaign for the most powerful seat in this country and you are spending your time giving leeway to my largest opponent’s son.”
“I had dinner with someone who’s company I enjoy because it’s nice to not talk about politics twenty four seven and he actually showed an interest in who I am and what I do. His mother doesn’t seem quite so concerned about his loyalty, so maybe you should take a page out of her book.” She pauses for a moment, just long enough to finish off her glass of wine. “And if my company is so misjudged at the moment, I think I better go. Best not to risk I don’t overhear something to share with the enemy.”
“Allison.” Chris reaches up to take her arm and hold her attention, and she glances back at him, before shaking her head.
“I think I need some space.”
Chris sighs, but nods and lets her go, letting her return to the street and gets an uber to head back to her apartment. While her original intention is to blow off steam on her own, she finds that that idea isn’t as appealing as she originally thought, and pulls out her phone again, sending a text off to Derek.
Still free tonight?
It doesn’t take much for him to agree and give her directions to his hotel, and when she arrives, he lets her in without a second thought. “I thought you were having dinner with your grandfather tonight.”
“I was.” Once the door closes, she turns to face him again, and moves in a bit closer. “I decided I wanted better company.” He looks confused for a moment, but realization dawns on him just as she leans in to kiss him, barely hesitating as his arms wrap around her waist and pulls her in to a warm embrace, keeping her close. He clearly has been wanting to do this for a while, and a part of her is nervous to admit that so was she, so she sinks into it, kissing him back for as long as she can manage before she feels herself start to turn and he begins to maneuver her towards the bed.
She pulls back, her hands resting on his shoulders to stop him. “Wait.”
“Sorry, am I reading this wrong?”
“No. No, you are definitely reading this right. It’s just … I may have originally come over here in a delayed act of teenage rebellion so I’m kinda using you a little bit.”
He laughs, his hands smoothing over her back for a moment. “Only a little?”
“I mean, provided you’re up to the challenge, I’m sure there will be zero regrets in the morning.”
“I’m definitely up to it.”
“It’s just that you’re deploying soon, so it’s probably better if this doesn’t get serious.”
His head tips to the side for a moment, curiosity crossing his features. “Is that why you’ve been holding back? Because I’m leaving.”
“I’m just trying to be practical.” Which really is her strong suit. Even in the heat of the moment, when she’s trying to be rebellious and impractical, she feels like she needs to come clean.
“No, I get it.” There’s a bit of hesitance there, and she can’t quite put her finger on what, but it’s enough for her to want to double check. She doesn’t want to push him into something that he may not be okay with, just like lying to him wasn’t the right play.
“So … are you still good with this?”
“Being with you and pissing off Gerard? I think I am more than good,” he smirks, before tackling her to the bed for another warm kiss. “Trust me. I can work with this.”
“Good,” she laughs, before giving in and just allowing her brain to shut off for a little while. Perhaps she’ll regret being practical n the morning, but for right now, she does her best to lose herself in the moment. She has no doubt that she will be leaving the hotel room very, very satisfied in the morning.
ben/elena | guardians | 468 words
The protest doesn’t have any actual protesting behind it as her back comes to rest against the door jamb that leads to the captain’s quarters on the Miss Mystic. Ben crowds in not long after, pressing his torso up against hers as he nudges her legs apart gently, and his lips move towards her neck.
“Is that a stop?” he asks as his breath ghosts against her skin, making her shiver.
She should say yes. She should stop. But it feels good and she’s had so few things that actually feel good that she’s been able to trust. She looks up at him for a moment, considering, before shaking her head and pulling him in to kiss him again. He responds eagerly, kissing her deeply for a moment, before he pulls back to tease her.
“I think I need to hear you say it.”
She rolls her eyes a bit, before she continues to push him back into the bedroom. “You know, you being a smug dick about this? Is really not all that attractive.”
“That’s a lie. I’m always attractive.” He flops back on her bed with a grin. “I just like it when you admit you want me.”
“My continuing to sleep with you isn’t enough for that?”
“Nope.” His hands grip her hips, pulling her in closer, before flipping her down onto the bed. “I want you to tell me you want me.” His lips then move to her neck, pressing light kisses there as his hands slides up under her shirt.
“So needy,” she teases with a laugh, arcing up into his touch a bit, before she moves to tug at his clothes. “I feel like you’re working too hard at this.”
“With you, sometimes it doesn’t seem like it’s hard enough.”
She pauses for a moment, looking up at him as he leans over her, and her face softens for a moment. She knows that she tends to be difficult, and she does it on purpose, not wanting to let people get close enough that they can hurt her or take advantage of her. But Ben was there before those defenses were built. He is already under them, even if he doesn’t realize it.
“I don’t mean to,” she says softly, one hand moving to rest against his arm. “It’s just … habit, sometimes.”
“I know,” he says before dipping his head and leaning in to kiss her softly. “It’d just be nice to hear you use actual words sometimes.”
She swallows hard, before nodding and leaning up into the kiss. “I will keep that in mind.”
“Good. Now can we lose the feelings and get back to the fun stuff?”
She laughs in response before nodding as she pulls him in again. “Let’s do it.”
hal/olivia | canon au | 600
There are some things she likes, however. She likes the tiny apartment they got in Boston, that’s just big enough for the two of them. She likes that it’s close enough to most of the important shops so that she doesn’t have to drive too far to get what she needs, and she likes that from what she can tell, there are plenty of jobs to take that probably won’t get her into too much trouble with the cops.
All that being said, Olivia is not made for cooking. She tries, following each of the instructions to the T, but when it comes to the more nuanced directions, she finds herself missing the mark a bit. Which is why Hal comes home one evening to find the windows open, the kitchen smelling like smoke, and his girlfriend peering into what at one point was a pot of chili.
“Babe?” he says softly, making his way into the kitchen with a nervous look on his face.
“I was making dinner.” He tips his head to the side and she tips her head back. “Okay, I was trying to make dinner. I get it, I’m bad at making dinner, but I’m still trying. You can’t get better at something if you don’t practice, right?”
“True, but some things are beyond practice and comprehension. Cooking and baking are one of those things.” He wraps his arms around her from behind as she starts to pout, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. “But I do appreciate that you’re trying.”
“It’s not my fault,” she nods, still continuing to pout as she leans back into him. “I was raised on twinkies and canned beans. I came into this late.”
“I know this about you and accept you.” He presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, and then he blinks. “Did you say twinkies?”
“They last a really long time.”
“… I think you may have just put me off twinkies.” He begins, before shaking his head. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out. It’s just going to take time.”
She sighs and nods slowly, before reaching forward and looking down into the pot to stir. “I think this is mostly okay.” She then glances back at Hal and turns to offer the spoon to him. “Do you want to try it just to see?”
Hal glances back to her, unsure for a moment, almost as though that look might somehow talk her out of it, but when she doesn’t seem deterred, he nods. Reaching forward and curling his fingers around the spoon, he takes a deep breath before leaning in for a small taste. And as the flavor rolls over his tongue, he pulls back with a slight cough.
“That bad, huh?”
“It’s very … zesty.” She groans as she grabs the pot, getting ready to go pour it out, and he sighs. “It’s better than the chicken you made last week?”
“I know,” she sighs as she moves to the sink to start scraping out the ruined chili. “I just really want to get this right.”
“I know you do. And you’ll get there.” He leans into the sink a bit so that they’re eye to eye, before leaning in to kiss her softly. “And until then, I’ll order a pizza.”
She grins. “That place down the street is going to love us more and more with each pizza we order.”
He laughs, before nodding his agreement. “And each order well deserved.”
christina }
tri }
sweets/maggie | bones/newsflesh | 1,200
In a way, it’s the thing that brings Maggie and Sweets together, the needing to connect with someone despite the isolation of the world they live in, and if Sweets is being completely honest, going out to her farmhouse to hang out with her dogs is one of his favorite places to be. Spending time with real people and not having to regulate his life through a computer is pretty much a dream and a much better use of his profession than trying to shrink someone over video chat.
Plus there’s Maggie too.
In fact, Maggie’s pretty damn important.
So much so, that when she mentions having gotten shot in one of their video chats, he requires zero persuasion to make his way up to the farmhouse to take care of her. While he probably should be concerned about the bloody nature of a gunshot wound, he also doesn’t want her to be up there alone either. What he doesn’t anticipate is the entire After the End Times team being present with her, so when he opens the door and is met by both the dogs and the glaring faces of Georgia and Shaun Mason.
“Uh. Hi.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lance. Sweets? I’m Maggie’s … ” He pauses as he tries to read the room on how to end that sentence. “ … friend.” There’s a pause as he looks up from the dogs for a moment, and then he squints at the woman to Shaun’s left. “… Aren’t you …”
“Don’t worry about it.” So Shaun Mason is ten times scarier in person, good to know. “Stay with the dogs. We’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir,” he nods and tries not to jump as the front door slams behind them. He contents himself with just the dogs, scolding himself quietly for not having realized that of course her friends would be there, and quietly wondering how Georgia Mason is somehow alive after her very public execution, but that’s a complicated puzzle that he probably shouldn’t try to solve. Not if he wants to make it through this visit alive. So he just hangs out with the dogs, soaking in the silence, until the door slams open again and Shaun has returned, same glare still in place, but he gestures for Sweets to follow him inside.
“Maggie’s confirmed you are who you say you are.”
“Oh, good.” That much is a sigh of relief and he keeps one bulldog tucked under his arm as he makes his way inside. “Not that I was worried that she wouldn’t. We’re totally friends in good standing and all that.”
“Uh-huh.” Shaun doesn’t seem phased by the rambling, but he doesn’t seem endeared by it either, so Sweet just waits until he’s addressed again, which doesn’t take too long in the grand scheme of things. “So. What do you do, Lance?”
“I’m a psychologist.”
He honestly should have known better. The way Shaun almost fumbles is clear enough that that isn’t an answer that the other man is expecting and he scolds himself almost as soon as he says it. Not that he thinks lying would have been a better option, but maybe he should have tried to soften the blow a little. Maybe “works for the FBI” would have been a better play and not completely a lie.
“A psychologist.”
“ … Yeah?” He doesn’t really know how to answer that without sounding nervous but given Shaun’s reactions to things, he’s not really sure how else to phrase it. “Mostly I just work with the FBI, but I do have a few private clients.”
“The FBI?”
“Yeah, I provide counseling services to their agents.” He gives a bit of a half laugh before he continues. “I’m not a profiler or anything, I just make sure their agents can do well in the field.”
“Uh-huh.”
The tone of that phrase will never not be concerning, and he just swallows and continues to follow Shaun through the house, trying not to speak out of turn, because he is fairly certain that it would only dig him into a bigger hole. He’ll answer the questions that are asked of him, and not much else. That’s safer.
“You know, I have to say you’re one of my favorite Irwins. Your style is always the most engaging, you’re always willing to get right into things.”
It’s safer if he manages to actually keep his mouth shut. Clearly he can’t.
“Thanks.” The response is almost droning, as though it’s a compliment he’s not willing to accept at the moment, and that’s fair. Sweets really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he just walks him to Maggie’s bedroom door, and gestures for him to head in ahead of her. “There you go. If you run into trouble, yell.”
“Oh, trust me. If I run into trouble, you will hear me.” There’s a pause as he realizes how awkward that is and shakes his head before heading inside. “Never mind. Thanks again.” And once he is in, the door closes behind him with a slight slam, and he blinks, before turning to Maggie. “Okay, so … your friends are more than a little terrifying.”
Maggie laughs, and it’s just such a nice thing to see her alive and in one piece and most importantly – not a zombie. “What are you doing here?”
“You mentioned you had gotten shot and I wanted to make sure you weren’t stuck here recovering on you own.” He makes his way over to sit on the edge of her bed with a small smile, before reaching forward to take her hand. “I should have figured that the rest of the staff would be around.”
“They probably won’t be around for long. They’ve still got a story to chase. So your company will be very much appreciated once they’re gone.”
“Good, I’m glad.” He smiles softly. She then inches over, gesturing so that he can sit closer. He takes that opening easily, only pausing to kick off his shoes, before settling in. “So. If I survived Shaun Mason, does that mean I can safely call you my girlfriend in their presence?”
She tips her head to the side confused, before she realizes what he means and laughs. “What did you tell them?”
“That I was your friend,” Sweets sighs, because he knows how wimpy that sounds. “It just didn’t seem like you had told them anything about me so I figured we’d work it out later.”
She laughs again, shaking her head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek softly. “For future reference, you are absolutely allowed to call yourself my boyfriend.”
He grins a bit at that, leaning in to match her and nodding his agreement. “Good.” He’s wanted to call her his girlfriend for a while. He reaches for the remote from the nightstand and turns his attention back to the TV screen. “So. Now that your friends are chasing their story elsewhere, which horror movie are we going to start this marathon with?”
He’s fairly certain that she wouldn’t want to spend her downtime any other way.
derek/katherine | teen wolf/the vampire diaries | 1,440 words
Derek signed up to help Katherine find the cure. He signed up to help her broker a deal with Klaus. He did not sign up to help Katherine kill Jeremy Gilbert. Derek first met Katherine in New York, when he was young and angry at the world, and that Derek then wouldn’t have cared who got hurt if it kept him from losing someone else he cared about. Things change after a while, the anger abates and he grows into a person who wants to do right by the people he has come to call pack.
When Derek finds out about Jeremy, the anger comes hard and fast again, and he leaves. As he does, she asks him what he expected from her. And in a lot of ways, he knows that she’s right. He always knows what he’s getting with Katherine. In a lot of ways, it’s refreshing. Her agenda has always been right there in front of him and he’s never really been a part of it. He’s never felt used or manipulated. In the end, his relationship with Katherine is one of his better ones.
Which, in the end, is why he’s sitting on a stool in a bar in New Orleans, staring at the beer he ordered but hasn’t started yet and trying to figure out what he’s going to do. He can’t stay here long – he’s heard of Marcel Gerard and his “fondness” for werewolves, but Katherine is still doing business and he made her a promise. He wouldn’t leave the city until she was leaving with him.
“That kind of day?” The friendly, blond bartender tips her head to the side as she watches him, drying off one of the now clean glasses in front of her.
“For some reason, it always turns into that kind of day.” He reaches for the beer to finally take a sip, his thumb brushing against some of the condensation before he glances back to her. “Is it usually slow enough around here that you can make small talk with your customers?”
“Not usually, no. Guess today’s a special occasion.” She makes her way closer before pointing up to her name tag. “I’m Cami.”
“Derek.”
“You usually drink alone, Derek?”
“Don’t usually drink,” he admits, before giving a small shrug. “But as I said. It was one of those days.”
“Have a falling out with a lady friend? Or a man friend. There’s totally no judgement here.”
He laughs, before shaking his head. “While she is a lady, she’s just a friend. But yeah, there was a falling out.” There’s a pause, because he probably shouldn’t be talking about this with a stranger, but at the same time, maybe someone anonymous was the best way to cut through to the truth of it, without having to worry about the baggage surrounding it. “She’s an ends justify the means kind of person. And I used to be, but … I don’t think I am anymore.”
“But you still care about her?”
“I wouldn’t be in New Orleans if I didn’t.” He takes another sip of the beer, and turns the glass in his hand a bit. “I know I’m not going to be able to change her – not if she doesn’t want to change. And I don’t think she will.”
“Then I guess you have to figure out if you can live with knowing those kinds of choices are ahead of you. If you can, then you’re good. You can still be friends. But speaking from someone who intends to analyze people’s behavior for a living one day, if you spend too long with someone trying to change them, when they don’t want to be changed, you’re only going to be disappointed. So I think it’s just a matter of asking her what she wants.”
That is the question, isn’t it? No one ever really knew for sure what it was that Katherine Pierce actually wanted, but in the end, it all comes down to whether or not he trusted her not to lie to him. “Guess I’ll have to find out.”
Cami gives him a small smile in return, before another customer catches her attention. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
He nods in agreement, but he doesn’t intend to stay long, reaching into his pocket for his wallet to put cash down for the beer and a tip, but as he’s doing so, two women in the corner of the bar catch his eye. He watches as they move hurriedly into a backroom, having a hushed conversation that no one else should be able to here, but they likely aren’t expecting there to be a werewolf in the bar at this hour. He takes in the details of the conversation, and he reaches for a napkin to scribble down the important information before he forgets.
By the time the two witches emerge, only the empty beer glass and his generous tip for his bartending shrink are left behind.
By the time Katherine returns to the room, he’s packed and ready to leave. He isn’t going to leave without saying goodbye and making sure that the business was settled, but he knows that he can’t stay here, in a place where he’s expected to be who he used to be. There’s a kind of slump in her shoulders as she moves towards the motel room door, and he can feel her tracking his movements as he takes his bag and drops it into the back seat of the car.
“Are you leaving me too?”
He knows he should probably question the “too” at the end of that question, but he doesn’t because it’s not important. “I’m leaving,” he admits, because there’s no denying that. “But whether or not I’m leaving you is up to you.”
That seems to get her attention, and she raises an eyebrow in response. “How does that work, exactly?”
He sighs as he moves to lean against the hood of the car. “Did your bargaining chip pay off?”
“Don’t know yet. There was a … complication.”
He nods once, his hands moving to his pockets. “I’m not this guy, anymore, Katherine. I used to be, but I’m trying to be … better. But you were there for me at a time where I didn’t really have a lot, and you got me through something I didn’t think I was going to get through. I think you can be better too, but you have to want it, and I’m not sure you do.” It isn’t a question of what she wants, because either way, he’s not writing her off. He has two few people he can call friends to ever write her off completely. But he is taking himself out of the equation, if he can help it. He pushes up from the roof of the car, and moves closer, taking her hand in his. “But if you want to come and try to be better with me, I have the space.”
It’s not the most romantic proposition he’s ever given, but he doesn’t really think that romance is what gets through to her. He can feel her watching him, as she always does, looking for the catch, but there isn’t any. The offer is as simple as he explained it.
“I need to see how things pan out here first,” she replies slowly, her fingers curling around his and giving it a small squeeze. “Last thing you need is Klaus rampaging through Beacon Hills, right?”
“Right,” he says with a nod. “Well, the offer stands. You know where to find me.”
“I do.” She pauses for a moment, before taking a step closer and onto her toes, pressing her lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you for coming, Derek. I know I asked a lot.”
He nods again, waiting for her to set herself back on her heels before he takes a step back. He then reaches into the pocket of his jacket, holding out the napkin for her to take. “In the event that Plan A doesn’t pan out? This is a pretty good Plan B.” She looks confused, but she takes it from him all the same and nods. “See you around, Katherine.”
He gets in his car and drives away, not knowing whether or not he’ll actually see her again. Even with all the complications that come with her, however, there’s still a part of him that hopes she may just take him up on his offer.
bonnie/stefan | stefan & caroline's nola adventures | 600
“You’re forgetting,” he begins as he moves her in front of the simmering stove in front of him, then handing her the spoon, “that you, Bonnie Bennett, are a capable witch and not Elena Gilbert, so I’m fairly certain that you can handle stirring a pasta sauce without burning it.”
“I love how you figure that Elena is a category onto herself.”
“I’ve had Elena’s cooking. I know it as fact.”
She laughs as she takes up stirring the sauce, and he moves back to the opposite counter and begins cleaning some of the chicken for dinner. The scent of the herbs and spices and the acidity of the tomatoes linger in the air, and Stefan is clearly relaxed, being in his element in the kitchen. It’s just the two of them, for the first time in a long time with Caroline and Tyler taking the twins back to see Alaric for a little while, but Stefan and Bonnie had stayed behind for … reasons. The reasons are complicated, and not something they’re letting Caroline in on yet, but there’s been something building in the space between them over the time they’ve spent in New Orleans, and as far as Stefan’s concerned, they have the right to try and explore it.
In the safety of New Orleans, when their nosier friends are a thousand miles away.
“I take it this is one of your moves?”
Stefan glances up for a moment, blinking his confusion. “My ‘moves’?”
“You know. When you’re trying to impress someone.” Bonnie glances back at him over her shoulder. “When you’re flirting with a girl, you pour her some wine, make her dinner … ”
“I will have you know that I am absolutely not … that transparent.” Bonnie’s laughter filters through the room again as he ends that sentence pretty lamely, giving a bit of a cringe in return. “Or maybe I am. Are you complaining?”
“I would never complain about home cooked food.” She pauses in her stirring for a moment, as he goes to wash his hands. “I’m just trying to figure out how much of my A game I’m going to have to bring here.”
“Your A game?” he asks curiously. “Are you saying you have moves, Bonnie Bennett? Because I know I can be pretty charming, but the cooking is pretty much the only one I’ve got you haven’t already seen.”
“Oh, I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe,” she grins. “I just need to know how much will-we-or-won’t-we we’re going to play here?”
“Well, that is entirely up to you. Basically right now, we’re Schrodinger’s cat.” He holds up a hand when she looks at him confused. “I’ve been watching a lot of Big Bang Theory, don’t judge me.” She rolls her eyes and he continues. “My point is, until we test the waters, we’re never really going to know for sure.”
“And your method of testing would be?”
He dries his hands for a moment, before placing the towel to the side and leaning in to kiss her softly. He’s been thinking about it for weeks, and her responding in return leads to exceeding expectations. The kiss actually carries on for far longer than it should, until Stefan can smell the sauce starting to burn and switches off the heat.
Bonnie steps back with him, taking a breath, and then a small smile. “So. Dinner?”
“Sure,” he smirks. “I want to see some of those moves of yours later though.”
She grins in return, before nodding. “Oh, you definitely will.”
bruce/jessica | dc extended universe/marvel cinematic universe | 1,348
Jessica Jones may be very, very drunk, but she’s still more sober than someone without her abilities. She’d also have to be unconscious not to notice that itchy, paranoid feeling that comes with being watched, so the fact that Bruce’s been looming for the past ten minutes. And she knows it’s Bruce because of the incredibly dirty mirrors behind the bottles on the bar, which is why she’s not telling him to fuck off.
She’s just asking him to make a choice.
Josie looks up from the glass she’s cleaning and raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure his suit costs more than my entire bar, Jones. If he sits, it might depreciate in value.”
Bruce’s brow furrows as he makes his way closure to pull out one of the stools. “Wouldn’t that be the other way around? More expensive clientele would make the value of the bar go up?”
“I was talking about your suit, hun,” Josie smirks, before reaching for another glass. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey for him,” Jessica replies, before holding up her glass. “Refill for me.”
Josie nods and serves up those drinks, and Jessica waits until she gets distracted by another customer before she acknowledges that Bruce is likely here for a reason and he’s not just lurking in Jessica’s neighborhood haunt because he decided he hadn’t gotten his quotient of dive bar for the week.
“Trish call you?”
“No. I saw the news.” He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it on the back of the bar stool before he settles next to her, reaching for the glass that was left for him. “I thought I’d come see how you were doing.”
“AKA lurk in the background and make sure you could take care of it, if I couldn’t?”
His face softens for a moment, an expression that she can’t really read in her intoxicated state and she looks back at her glass again, not really interested in his pity. “I’m not really sure what happened,” he finally decides on, and she swallows hard for a moment, trying to figure out where to even start.
“Well, my mother came back from the dead. And she was like me – powered – only problem is she was psychotic and thought killing people was a really great idea when you weren’t getting your way.”
The situation is far more nuanced than that, and she knows it, but she doesn’t feel like getting into a full recap. Besides, she has to keep up appearances. After all, she’s the one who took the “monster” down. Or at least that’s what she’s letting the police believe. As angry and betrayed as she feels by Trish, she also understands that Trish and Costa were right. There wasn’t any other way that this was going to end.
“She’s not a problem anymore though.” Trish made sure of that.
She doesn’t want to hear what Bruce has to say about it, really, so she knocks back the rest of her drink, and starts to get her feet. She moves too fast however, stumbling off the stool and directly into him. He catches her easily, reaching out to steady her before finishing his own drink and getting to his feet.
“C’mon,” he says softly, placing a hundred on the bar for the drinks plus tip, and then starts to guide her towards the door. “Let’s get you home.”
She doesn’t fight him, likely insisting that she was planning on leaving anyway, but after that she spaces out enough to not really remember what happens between the bar and her apartment beyond a whole lot of silence. It isn’t until he’s directing her towards her bedroom and sitting her down on the edge of her bed to get her boots off that she speaks up again.
“What would you have done?” She hasn’t asked anyone else this, but Bruce was the only other superhero orphan she knew. While the death of his parents had been the impetus for Bruce’s heroism, the death of hers was all of the reasons why she didn’t want to be. Maybe he would have a solution that she didn’t think of.
Maybe she just wants to hope that there’s a way her mother could have been saved.
“You might have to be more specific.”
“If your mother came back from the dead and she was out of control. She had all this rage that she couldn’t control, and she wasn’t … she wasn’t your mother anymore, she was something else. If people were dying would you try to take her out, or would you try and save her?”
Bruce sets her boots on the ground next to the bed before looking up at her, the complications of the question catching him between a rock and a hard place. Bruce is older, he’s been a hero longer, maybe there’s some kind of thing she’s missing that would have clicked everything into place.
“I don’t know.”
It’s not the answer she was expecting. Part of her expects a lie, a simple affirmation that he would have done the right thing, and the world would have been better for it, but at the same time the answer is a comfort all the same. It means that her indecision isn’t a byproduct of her being Jessica, of her being so fucked up because of everything she’s been through that she’s lost the ability to be able to see the right and wrong of it all. Or maybe Bruce is simply admitting that he’s as fucked up as she is.
Either way, that moment of connection is enough. It’s enough for her to push on this thing that’s been sitting between them as they’ve gotten to know each other. As much as she should probably have reservations about this for various reasons, the least of which being that she’s drunk, she pushes forward taking advantage of the fact that he’s as close as he is, and she kisses him.
For a few moments, he kisses her back.
It doesn’t last long in the grand scheme of things. Her fingers curl around the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, his hand finds the small of her back, but the second those fingers start to move towards the buttons of his waistcoat, he pulls back again, shaking his head as one hand gently curls around her wrists to push them back.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Story of my life,” she says, her voice indicating that she doesn’t appreciate being deterred, but she’s also not going to force him. That’s not a line she will ever let herself cross.
“Not like this,” he explains, and she sighs, before flopping back onto the mattress. It’s really a problem that she keeps running into these good guys.
But in a way, he’s right. It shouldn’t be like this. Not when she’s drunk. Not when she’s grieving. Still, she can’t help but be a little bit disappointed that this is where things are going to land. She huffs a bit and draws her legs up onto the mattress, getting ready to wriggle out of her jeans and pass out for a while.
“Fine.”
“I’ll be on the couch,” he says with a bit of a smirk, and she nods, pulling up the sheets around her shoulders and getting ready to close her eyes and drift off. Just as she’s about to cross that threshold into unconsciousness, a thought occurs to her and she opens her eyes again.
“Hey, Bruce?”
He crosses back into the doorway for a moment, raising an eyebrow in response. “Yes?”
“Do you think I’d be a good hero? Even if I passed on the spandex.”
He smirks a bit at that. “It’s not spandex.”
“You know what I mean.”
He does, but he had to make that clarification anyway. “Well, in my experience, not all heroes have to have capes.”
She nods for a moment, before flopping back against the bed again and closing her eyes. “Good to know.”
clark/lois | dc extended universe | 913
It doesn’t seem like it should be possible, given all that he’s been through, but aside from what happened at his memorial, his temperament is the same. She’s still amazed that she was able to get through to him that quickly, that she had that kind of power, but she also supposes that Bruce called her the big guns for a reason. Not that she would ever try to control him, not for good, but she’s glad that she could keep him from doing something he may have regretted later.
Things settle back into a bit of normalcy between them once the battle with Steppenwolf passed and the focus changes from saving the world to getting Clark back into the world. He spends months on the farm just acclimating to his life and helping his mother, but that only lasts for so long before he starts to get fidgety, needing something to do with his time beyond staring into corn fields. Which is what leads to him handing her several sheets of paper for her to read. She glances up at him, and raises her eyebrows curiously.
“What’s this?”
“The Smallville Gazette takes local submissions sometimes.” Clark gives a small shrug as he scoops up her legs so he can sit on the couch, before letting her stretch them across his lap. “Figured it might be a good way to start shaking the rust off.”
Her head tips to the side curiously as she glances down to read. “You thinking of going back to the Planet?”
“It would make it a little easier than having to fly out and get you every night,” he smirks. “And I’ll have to figure out something to do with my life eventually. Might as well stick to what I know.”
Bruce had backstopped Clark’s entire life as part of his penance for the crap he pulled and while Lois is grateful, she knows that eventually people are going to start asking questions. That’s a problem to deal with later, however. For right now, she’s just glad that Clark seems ready to start moving forward.
“You could go back to working on an oil rig,” she teases helpfully, grabbing her pen off the coffee table as she starts to proofread with earnest. “That was a good look for you.”
“That doesn’t really solve the proximity problem though,” he replies, giving her a bit of a look at that, one hand coming around to brush against the crook of her knee. It’s the little touches she’s missed the most, more so than the superhero and the strength that came with that. Superman may have had the heart of the world, but Clark was the one who always had hers. “I would rather fall back on a former career that would allow me to stay close.”
“Fair enough.” She makes a few notes, before she circles a word and he frowns.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
“Malaprop. I think you meant something else.” She scribbles that note in and he sighs, then nods. Clark switching words had been one of the subtle signs that he was still recovering, but thankfully there weren’t many of those. She finishes up to the end of the article, before nodding her agreement. “Not bad, Smallville. But let’s get a few more articles under your belt before you head back to the big time.”
“Fair enough,” he sighs as he leans back against the couch. It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and she knows that, but some things need to be taken one day at a time. And while Clark Kent may not be actually dead in the real world, he still died. Not everything is going to be perfect.
“Hey,” she says softly, moving a bit so that she’s straddling his waist, sliding her arms around his neck. “You’ll get there. I get that you’re used to being invincible, but some things take longer to fix.”
He nods for a moment, one hand coming to rest against the small of her back. “I just want my life back.”
“You’ll get it,” she nods with a small smile, before leaning in to kiss him gently. “And until then, I’ll just take advantage of the fact that I have a handsome live in boyfriend who likes to cook me dinner in exchange for funding his lavish lifestyle.”
He laughs a bit at that, using the hand against her back to pull her in closer. “Oh really? So that’s all I am to you. Just some convenient boy toy you keep around because I’m pretty?”
“You are very pretty. I’m just saying it’s a really good deal for me.”
He laughs again, and the sound is so refreshing and new after so long of feeling alone that she intends to make terrible jokes for the rest of forever, just as long as she can hear it. “Guess I better start earning my keep.” He starts to make like he’s going to get up, and she shakes her head a bit, before leaning in to kiss him again.
“I’ve got a better idea.” The kiss is one that’s intent on convincing him that he should just stay right where he is, and there are other activities that they’d be better off pursuing, and when she pulls back, she can feel him smile against her lips.
“Well. Far be it from me to say no to that.”
poe & zari | star wars au | 584 words
Zari doesn’t look up from the console she’s working on. She doesn’t even turn to look at what she’s doing. She just reaches forward, grabs one of the non-working components sitting next to her, hefts and throws. She hears it clank against the doorframe and sadly not Poe Dameron’s smug face.
Shame.
“We’re closed.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t like you very much.”
That voice is new and interesting enough to actually get her to pause her work and look up. Standing next to Poe, is a tall dark skinned man, looking very confused. She raises an eyebrow at the both of them before leaning back in her seat.
“Don’t tell me you actually charmed some idiot into being your friend.”
“What? I’m not an idiot.”
“He’s right, Finn is not an idiot.” Poe just smiles like she hasn’t thrown something at his head two seconds earlier. “Zari, this is my buddy, Finn. Finn, this is Zari Tomaz, one of the best hackers in the galaxy.”
Zari gives a bit of a nod in response, before her eyes drift back to Poe. “What do you want, Dameron?”
“What makes you think I want something?”
“You’re too ‘in demand’ for the resistance to come here unless you need something so what do you want?”
“She’s sharp,” Finn comments. “I like her.”
Poe sighs a bit, before making his way closer and perching on the edge of her desk. “Have you heard about the First Order’s hyperspace tracking technology?”
That has Zari’s attention and her eyes widen before she sits up straighter. “They can track people through hyperspace?”
“Yep,” Finn sighs. “And we need a hacker to help us get on board the flag ship to disable it.”
“So suicide. You’re basically signing me up for suicide.”
“It’s not suicide if we win.”
“Uh – you know the story of Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor right? They won, and they still died. I don’t think your analogy there is that persuasive.” She turns to start to return to her work, ready to focus on the problem and then let Poe flounder, but Poe knows her better than that, and she should have known that he wasn’t going to let things go.
“What if the First Order manages to get a beat on the Waverider?” There’s a moment of silence as she puts her tools down, but she doesn’t turn to look at him right away. “I know you’re tight with the Legends, Z, this hurts you just as much as it hurts me.”
She turns and glares at him at that, before shaking her head. “You’re an asshole.”
“I am. I will not dispute that.”
She sighs, before glancing over at Finn. “The rest of the Legends are on Canto Bight working a job. You better have transpo to get us there.”
“We can do that,” Finn nods, before glancing to Poe. “We can do that, right?”
Poe just grins as he leans in to kiss her on the forehead. “Yes we can.” There’s that embarrassing moment of affection before he pulls back with a nod. “You’re a life saver, Zari. Literally.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she sighs when she gets to her feet. “Thank me later, when we’re not dead.” She really, really hopes that she won’t be dead, but with a planner like Poe, you never know.
“Aw, c’mon. I’ve kept you alive so far, haven’t I?”
Zari just shakes her head, before sliding her bag over her shoulder and following them out. “Famous last words.”