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Chapter Text

Ring | Horns

The small sound his wedding ring made on the marble countertop echoed through the empty kitchen as he tapped his fingers restlessly and without rhythm. Along with the clink of his coffee cup as he twisted it back and forth with his other hand, the soft glub glub of the bubbling percolator, and the almost sighs every time he exhaled; it all came together like some kind of odd melody.

He glanced out unto the main common area, the skies beyond the floor to ceiling windows were dark grey and roiling, thunder booming in the distance. The weather had been shit for days, dark and oppressive over the city until both the mayor of New York City as well as the governor of the state had reached out to the tower to ask the resident god of thunder to give them all a fucking break pretty please and thank you.

But Thor wasn’t in any mood to be considerate, not when the source of his distress continued to sit on a chair in the common room for days on end staring blankly out of the window.

The coffee machine beeped and broke his concentration, pulling his eyes away from the slim figure silhouetted against the endless cloudy skies. He filled his cup then, after some quiet deliberation, took another from the shelf and filled that as well. He wasn’t sure if to add milk or sugar so he left it as black as his own.

He padded towards the sitting area on socked feet, dragging them against the carpet childishly. Most of the old manor had been hard wood floors and proper house shoes and quick, harsh scoldings for running too fast or laughing too loud.

Now, with his Wonder Woman socks and thick pile carpeting, he could indulge in a bit of nonsensical behavior. Thankfully, his rings quickly dissipated the negative charge harmlessly before they could build up and give him a static shock.

He placed the second cup on the small table near the arm of the chair without a word, just making sure that it was in clear view and within reach. There was no reaction. Well, he didn’t expect much of one. The sky rumbled as he approached the windows, his breath skipping a bit as the clouds seemed to press down upon the city like the lid of casket slowly closing.

He swallowed heavily against his nerves and turned around to lean against the tempered glass. There, that was a bit better. The common room looked bleached grey but there were little pops of colour, little signs of life that made the bands around his chest loosen. He took a sip of coffee and let his eyes drift over to the slumped figure in the chair, cup of coffee still untouched and steaming.

The lithe figure was almost swimming in the huge hooded sweatshirt, small glimpses of jewel blue skin covered in darker blue runes. Midnight black, almost blue hair hung limply from the pulled up hood and covered the sharp angled cheekbones and shin, also a rich gemstone blue.

Ringed grey horns curled delicately from beneath the hood, studded with delicate gold filigree jewelry that could not have possibly been made by human hands.

He quietly contemplated the few conversations that he’d had with the Thunder God in the past, about the Dwarves of Nidavellir and the artisans of Asgard, his eyes tracing the complex path of the exquisite gold.

Dark lashes flutter and eyes red as the rarest rubies flickered up to look at him though long, thick hair. They flashed red for half a second before they dulled and fell away. He let out his breath slowly through his lips, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

He drank the rest of his coffee in silence, offering quiet company because that’s all that he could do. He couldn’t fix this in his workshop. This wasn’t like some kind of broken machine he could run a diagnostic on. There wasn’t some part to switch out, some upgrade to apply.

This was gooey, messy, emotional people stuff that he didn’t know what to do about. Couldn’t throw money at and hope it went away or got better.

With a nod and a tip of his empty cup, he wandered back toward the kitchen and rinsed his cup, turning over to dry on the rack. Before stepping unto the elevator, he gave one last long glance towards the lonely figure, framed by the tall windows, silent and still against the querulous clouds.

He felt cold.

He sighed, then frowned, a bit angry at himself for all the sighing he’d been doing lately. His fingertips found his rings and twisted them around and around his finger absently.

The elevator sped up to the penthouse, barely making a sound to distract him from his own turbulent thoughts. He wandered his way to the bedroom, pushing open the door and leaning against the frame.

Steve was sitting against the bedhead, snug in a ratty t-shirt and rumpled boxers. His hair was an utterly adorable mess and he had a thick, most likely non-fiction, biography opened in his lap. His eyes were a summer sky blue when he looked up and his gentle mile felt like the warmth in his chest after a cup of Clint’s really good hot chocolate.

Without a word Steve, lifted the edge of the blanket, the welcome unspoken and deeply appreciated. The book was set aside and arms tucked him close to that barrel chest. The steady thump of a heartbeat against his cheek, chasing away his errant thoughts and settling him the way nothing else could.

Steve gave off heat like a furness and he rubbed his cheek against that broad chest, inhaling deeply in that comforting smell of soap and shield oil and musk. His hand lay on Steve’s peck and his fingers started to twist the rings again, turning them over as the arc blue diamond disappeared and reappeared against the silver of the vibranium bands.

He knew without looking, every curve of the words engraved on the inside of the plain band. Words of promise meant to last as long as the rings did. Steve’s hand came up to grasp his own, stilling his fingers, his other hand warm on the small of his back.

He let out a deep breath, happier that it didn’t sound as much as a sigh as before. His mind calmed, his body going boneless as tender fingers combed through his dark hair.

Legs intertwined, socked feet tucked up against bare ones, breaths mingling and evening out. Blanket snug around them and the cold of bad weather kept out by tempered glass and JARVIS’ watchful eye.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and he imagined that it sounded a little further away this time.

Chapter Text

Comets | Mindless
-------------------------

X2857 H2 was first discovered while it was only three days away from the planet, coming out of a section of space previously thought to be empty as fuck. It took the great minds of the world another day to determine that the sneaky burning space rock was making a beeline straight toward the third rock from the sun.

After reasonably freaking the fuck out, the world leaders demanded to know why they hadn’t been able to give more goddamn warning before the end of the world.

Scientists fired back equally as hotly that decades of severe budget cuts had crippled them from looking at more than 20% of space and, if people didn’t know, space was actually ginormous as shit, fuck you very much. Like really fucking humongous.

It took another day for the news to leak out to the public and that’s when things really went to shit. Martial law was initiated worldwide as people panicked and ran around like headless chickens. News and Media talked about nothing else and the National Guard were out in force to stomp out any one trying to take undue advantage. Money started pouring into beleaguered space and missile programs, trying to find some way to swat the comet away from the planet like some unwanted fly.

They called it Messenger and pundits and pastors screamed that it was doom laid upon mankind by a vengeful god. The rich retreated to their tricked out bunkers if they had them and partied like it was 1999 if they didn’t. People punched their v-card in droves and gave the finger to their bosses/ exes/ families etc. Cults made suicide pacts and churches and temples had marathon prayer sessions.

On the third day, just when all seemed truly lost, there came a cry of hope. The comet wasn’t going to slam right into the planet, as previously determined, to send the human kind the same way as the dinosaur. No, the fucker was going to skip across the atmosphere like a stone across a pond and get flung away into space to continue along its merry way.

Huh.

So, the earth wasn’t coming to an end after all.

Yeah.

What the shit.

********

Stiles drained the last of his third beer and burped loudly, the sound echoing into the quiet of the night around him. His feet shifted, sneakers squeaking on the hood of his jeep as he tossed the empty unto the grass to join the others strewn around. He’d pick them up later, probably, whatever.

The night was warm and the air heavy and sweet. The thick material of his Beacon Hills High hoodie was pooled around his waist. The glass of the jeep was warm against his back through the thin jersey and his jeans were old raged ones that gone soft from years of washing.

He plucked another beer from the cooler beside him and twisted it open, looking up at the vast beauty of the night sky. He’d discovered this spot on the preserve some months ago, during a flight for his life from one of the latest oogly booglies that had turned up seeking the power of the nemeton. Between researching like crazy, trying to wrangle both Scott and Derek, knocking his head against the stone wall that was Deaton, and trying to keep his dad safely ignorant; he’d barely had time to appreciate the stunning view of the preserve from the sharp cliff lookout.

It had taken a week of sleeping like the dead and crying in the shower before he’d traced a path back to the spot. From there he could see almost the whole valley and a large swath of uninterrupted starry sky. It was peaceful, it was beautiful and most importantly, it was quiet. No werewolf drama, no teen drama, no family drama, no fucking drama at all.

He’d had different plans for tonight, with the world coming to an end and all. One final movie night full of food, family and a hilariously tasteless marathon of movies like Deep Impact, Night of the Comet and Armageddon. There would be Melissa’s overstuffed empanadas, pizza and greasy burgers for his dad, extra bacon; and one of those huge, body sized bag of Cheetos for Scotty because his bestie loved the stuff with a werewolf passion.

Unfortunately, his Dad had to go into the Sheriff’s office to keep the peace in the wake of the latest announcement, Melissa had been called into the hospital because it was all hands on deck at the ER. And Scotty…. Scotty would rather spend the night having ‘thank god we’re not going to die’ sex with his lady love.

And… It’s not like he wouldn’t see Stiles tomorrow right?

Stiles could understand that Allison needed him, right?

Sure. Right.

It’s not like Stiles hadn’t been slowly going out of his mind for the past few days. Like he hadn’t been see sawing between manic, caffeine fueled google marathons and depressive panic attacks. Like he hadn’t had a serious come to Jesus moment and been struck in the face that all the struggles he’d faced had basically been for nothing. That what future he’d imagined for himself were all worthless in the face of imminent destruction. The realization that they were all going to live after all had left him adrift, his mind stalled and floating on a vast sea of numb and uncertain darkness.

Like the way he knew in his heart that if he opened his mouth to speak, he would start screaming and wouldn’t stop. There were no smart ass quips, no snippy sarcastic come backs. No one to circumvent the mindless terror that still reverberated through his very soul.

He threw the empty bottle unto the grass, hearing it clink against another. The forest was quiet around him and he could hear the blood rushing in his hears. The show would be starting soon. The very comet that had threatened to destroy them all would be passing overhead in a few minutes and he had one of the best seats in the house.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and he tensed for a second, only to relax completely when a soft greeting was carried on the wind. Derek stood to the side of the jeep, hands in the pockets of his ever present leather jacket and eyes glowing red in the darkness. The mouth was turned down into an adorable frown and Stiles chuckled at the sight, patting the empty patch of hood next to him.

“Get your ass up here sour wolf,” he ordered with a smirk, “Geez, the entire planet getting a Hail Mary pass isn’t enough to make you crack a smile?”

The car rocked as the other man settled next to him, his shoulder warm and firm against Stiles as he leaned back unto the glass next to him. Derek shook his head at the offer of a beer and stared up at the sky in quiet companionship.

Stiles pulled at the zipper of his hoodie. “Thought you would be with the rest of the pack?”

“They all decided to spend the night with their families.” came the grumbling reply.

“Even Lahey?”

“He’s at Scott’s.”

“Oh.”

Stiles made a face at that, confused by the sharp lancing pain in his chest. He felt his eyes begin to sting and quickly blinked them away. His next breath was a bit ragged and watery but he kept breathing steadily until it passed. There was nothing he could think of to say.

They both had reasons for being alone. Both had people that they would have loved spend time with tonight. Eventually, a light appears to the west, looking something like the sun rising in reverse at the forest brightened around them. Stiles fumbled in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out two of those paper eclipse glasses, absently handing one to his companion as he slipped his pair on.

“Just put them on if you don’t want to be a blind wolf.” He grouched, feeling Derek’s glare on the side of his face. He smirked openly when the werewolf growled and put them on, knocking the man’s shoulder with his own and keeping it there, settling against the alpha comfortably.

As the comet streaked across the sky, lighting it up as bright as day, its tail a spectacular show of blues, purples, whites, and fiery yellows and oranges. Stiles could only stare, transfixed as the heavenly body slowly made its way across the sky. Holy fuck, his mind was officially blown.

The nucleus of ice and rock was dark amidst the devastatingly beautiful deadly cloud of gas that surrounded it. The Coma, as it was called, flashed and flared as it brushed against the upper atmosphere, sending terrifyingly heart stopping reactions skittering across the sky. The tail was a thing in itself, slithering behind like a living thing, colours twisting and merging continuously.

His mouth was open, he was sure. He was also sure that he couldn’t care less if he looked like a complete derp. This was an event the likes of which he would never see again in his lifetime. Maybe even in humanities lifetime. He barely registered when Derek’s arm slipped around him, tugging him close against that firm, warm body.

They stayed that way as the comet dipped in the east, taking its light and leaving darkness to creep over the sky once more. He felt oddly bereft, as if he’d seen the face of God and then gone blind immediately after. His breath was loud in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. It was only when Derek’s arms tightened around him that he realized that he was shivering.

Without thinking twice about it, he turned further into Derek’s embrace and tucked his face into the werewolf’s neck; a soft whine escaping his throat. Arms tightened around him, holding him steady as he shook, his mind still reeling by what he’d just witnessed. When he finally pushed away, the arms loosened but still held him, Derek’s skin warm and comforting through the thin material of his t-shirt.

A thumb came up to gently wipe away the tear tracks on his face and he let his eyes fall closed. Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes were full of raw emotion when they met his and in that moment something changed between them. Something soft and warm and integral had blossomed anew.

Stiles smiled, brittle and painfully honest, and his gut did a little flip when the werewolf responded with a fragile little smile of his own. With a sigh, Stiles tucked his face into the other man’s neck once more, settling in more comfortably; humming contentedly when Derek’s arms came up to hold him close.

He didn’t know what would become of this, if anything would.

But he had the rest of his life to find out.

Chapter Text

Bed sharing / Clothes Sharing

Steve liked clothes well enough. He knew what fashion was and what power it could hold and wield. The cut of a man’s trousers, the fit of his jacket across the shoulders. How those subtle little things influenced those around him, their perception of his status, his intelligence, his power.

He’d seen the way Tony donned his sharp and expensive, custom tailored suits, strutting as confidently as he would in his gold titanium alloy armor. How Bucky wore the latest trends, his closet filled with weird, one of a kind pieces that were more avant garde than pret-e-porter; bold and fearless in his desire to distance himself from the bleak, black horror that were his years under HYDRA.

He’d seen Natasha become an entirely different person with a change of clothes, a touch of make-up and pinned up hair. Pepper wielded her fashion like a weapon, finely honed and deadly with her solid, uncompromising colurs and unrepentant femininity.

Bruce used the absence of fashion like a shield, his entire wardrobe was interchangeable and completely disposable. The Hulk made having any sense of fashion moot anyway.

Clint was pretty pragmatic about clothes. Function over form with clothes that looked like shit but were comfortable as shit. Thor on the other hand, thought human fashion was hilarious and treated it all like a huge joke with his fluffy pink robes and casual nudity.

Steve though, was a man of simple tastes. Quality over quantity was his motto when it came to building his wardrobe. He liked to choose well-made pieces, more expensive than others but made to last.

He took care of them, he treasured them. He paid attention to the little tags with washing instructions and had long conversations with the JARVIS as well as the Tower’s laundry service staff.

He arranged them in his closet just so, shrugging when Tony teased him about being a bit anal about it. It wasn’t just his time in the military that drove his need for neatness and order, he’d always been like that; even as a child.

He knew every piece of his wardrobe well so when things went missing, he noticed. He frowned at his closet, eyes snagging on the gap in his coats where his Moroshka sweater jacket by VINGIL usually hung.

It was a jewel blue 100% wool Chunky knit cardigan that pepper had bought him for his birthday that he didn’t want to google the price of because there was pricey and then there was Pepper and Tony’s version of pricey.

He frowned as he checked around his quarters. Frowned as he checked the common room, the kitchen and the Gym. Frowned as he failed to see hide nor hair of the wonderfully soft and comfortable jacket.

He frowned as he called down to the laundry service. Frowned as he made himself a cup of tea and made another mental list of places to check.

Frowned as Natasha smirked at him from across the kitchen table and murmured a vague comment about checking the workshop, before slipping out of the kitchen with an arm full of snacks.

JARVIS let him into the workshop without a word and he glanced around the area before his eyes snagged on a sliver of familiar blue. He tilted his head, stepping closer, curious.
He’d found his jacket.

Tony looked almost swallowed by the thing, his smaller lithe frame tucked up into the knitted wool with only the top of his curly head and the tips of his socked feet peeping out.

Steve blinked at the sight, oddly charmed at the sight. The genius looked vulnerable and adorable and it sent a pang of longing deep in Steve’s chest.

His musing was broken when Tony snorted softly and curled upon on his side, fast asleep on the weird ergonomic chair he was sitting in. The chair rolled a bit as the man tried to get comfortable and Steve dove forward to brace it before it tipped over.

This brought him up close and personal with the sleeping genius, the sight of his sleep softened face, thick eyelashes dark against his dusky skin sending Steve’s heart into overdrive, along with other places in his anatomy.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t wake up and after a few seconds of deliberation, Steve made a decision. Carefully, he threaded his arms under the sleeping man and lifted him gently, freezing as the smaller man snuffled into his neck and gave a soft contented sigh.

Steve found himself flushing red, his cheeks and neck heating as he gently carried Tony across the lab and set him down unto the plush couch. Tony made a small, sweet little sleepy sound and Steve cursed silently in his head. He was a fucking goner.

He wanted to tuck himself right along Tony’s back and stay there forever, if that’s what it took to wake up to that sound every morning. He wanted to see Tony in bed, sleep soft and wearing one of his shirts, the sleeves falling past his fingertips and collar falling off his shoulder.

He wanted to see the man puttering around the lab in one of his old army jerseys or bare chested with Steve’s dog tags around his neck, bright against his darker skin.

Just then, Tony curled to his side, tugging the sweater jacket closer and rubbing his cheek against the soft chunky knit; utterly decimating the last of Steve’s defenses in the process.

The blond straightened up and gave a deep sigh, realizing how well and truly fucked he was. With one last, lingering glance at the sleeping engineer, he nodded his head and strode from the workshop with a determined step; plans already forming in his head.

He had a billionaire genius philanthropist to woo.

Chapter Text

Riddick woke to darkness, his head ringing and feeling as if it were floating on a string above him.

FoloxitinB most likely. He hadn’t been able to build up an immunity to it as yet considering how hard it was to procure and how expensive it was to source, it had seemed more of a hassle than anything to do so. He regretted it now. Determined bounty hunters usually had a dart or two in their arsenal when going after the big jobs. And Richard B. Riddick was one of the biggest.

He checked his restraints, hoping to find a weak point; something he could wiggle out of; but no dice. Cassiran flex steel fibres threaded with strom ore, secured to each other and to the walls. Shit. These hunters were serious. His goggles were gone but he could just make out the stark lines of a ship’s brig capsule. Huh. It had been a long fucking time since someone had gotten the jump on him.

Fucking bounty hunters.

The door clanked and swung open suddenly, making him flinch and squeeze his eyes shut with a grunt.

“Looks like It’s your lucky day Richard B Riddick. Class F Bounty. Wanted Dead or Alive. Thirty million credits. Ten million credit bonus if brought in dead.” The husky voice whistled then chuckled. “A very lucky day.”

Riddick blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light and he looked up to see a rugged man looking down at him with a last smirk. He gave the man a slow once over, his mind racing furiously. The man’s face was known to him, his reputation even better known. He looked around to see if the man’s partner was around but there was no sign of her.

The Grimm Twins were the boogie men of Bounty Hunters. Smart, ruthless and relentless, the bounty hunting brother and sister duo were a force to be reckoned with and only took their pick of jobs. They were expensive as fuck but that was because they were just that good.

The male before him was known to most as ‘Reaper’. Choppy brown hair, handsome face with a hard body; he was dressed in custom gear and armed to the teeth. His sister and partner, a blond known as the ‘Doc’, was the brains to her brother’s brawn. It wasn’t confirmed whether or not she was a real doctor healer but there were stories he’d heard that made even him wary of her.

If these were the ones who had him, then he was in hotter water than he’d previously thought. Still, he’d made his way out of tighter spots that this before. He gave a sly grin of his own, tilting his head.

“Yeah?” he drawled, “Exactly how lucky are we talking here?”

The man grinned in return, leaning in close but not close enough for Riddick to lunge forward and rip out the man’s neck with his teeth. This one was smart.

“Lucky that the trap that you sprung wasn’t meant for you. Lucky that we’re hot enough on our mark’s trail that we don’t have time or resources to bring you along for the ride. Really lucky that we don’t have anywhere to secure your corpse to collect the bonus on it later.”

The man winked and leaned back as his partner made her way into the room beyond the small cell’s door, setting a crate down in the corner and coming up to stand next to her brother. She looked at Riddick with a frown.

“Why haven’t you done the catch and release with this one yet? We need to get a move on if we want to make it to the jump point in time. Drop him off on the nearest rock and let’s go.”

“We still have some time yet.” Reaper responded, baring his teeth in a wide grin. “Not every day we get to meet The Riddick face to face.”

She gave him a flat look, glancing at the prisoner before turning back to her brother. They seemed to have some kind of silent conversation before she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Anything happens, it’s on you.”

They both looked after her as she strode from the room before turning back to each other. Riddick grinned, shrugging so that his shackles clanked.

“You heard the lady. You gonna release this catch or what?”

Reaper’s lips twitched at the corner as he leaned against the doorway.

“Not just yet I reckon. As I said, it’s not every day that a fella gets to meet THE Riddick… in the flesh.”

His gaze travelled lazily down Riddick’s built form, his eyes glinting with appreciation. The gaze felt like a caress and Riddick shifted, letting his legs fall as wide as the restraints would let them. He let his ‘come fuck me smile’ spread over his face and watched in satisfaction as Reaper’s lips went slack, a flush crawling up his neck.

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to come after you. Your reputation precedes you.” The hunter bit his lip, shifting his hips. “But then again so does mine.”

He shrugged a shoulder, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“People like us. We don’t often get a chance to cross paths. Not without violence that is. We’ve got war in our blood and always will. We were born fighting and will probably meet our end that way too.”

Riddick sat back against his shackles and quirked an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s true enough. Not much left to us but death and fury. What are you thinking to do about it? You wanna talk? Have some kind of deep conversation? Trade philosophies or some shit like that?”

Reaper snorted, shaking his head as he shrugged out of his shoulder holster. “Nah. I’m thinking more about connecting at a more instinctual level.”

He hung his weapons just out of reach, his guns and a few knives joining them. He was by no means unarmed but there was nothing on him that Riddick could reach easily without dislocating something. Riddick stilled as the man slowly straddled his lap, shifting his weight as he ran his hands over Riddick’s shoulder and chest.

“You gonna free me first?”

“For you to shiv my reckless ass in the back. Fuck no.” The other man barked a sharp, hoarse laugh. “I will, however, stop if you tell me to. I’m not a rapist, no matter what kind of bad rap most hunters have. I just think that men like us don’t often get a chance to have things easy without looking over their shoulder for the next bullet… the next knife.”

His hand reached down to cup Riddick’s crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze

“When was the last time you got to indulge in something hot… and sweet?”

Riddick could feel his cock getting hard, that slow heat curling in his belly.

“It’s has been a while.” He admitted. “Though I can’t see how these chains would qualify as easy.”

“I may be horny, but I’m not fucking dumb.” Reaper gave him a flat look. “I can drop you off on the nearest planet right now, you just say the word, but I’m not letting you free on this ship for a fucking second. And I really don’t want to have to kill you. Today at least.”

Riddick chewed on that for a long second, taking in the sight and feel of a willing lover in his lap. Someone not afraid of him or in awe of him. Someone who wanted to scratch that deep itch that people who lived their kinds of lives didn’t get to do very often. And if it came to it, someone he could face and fight and scratch another itch.

He grunted and they met in the middle with a kiss that began as a fight for dominance but slowly turned softer, sweeter; with a hunger that surged up his throat and came out as a deep moan. He bucked his hips as Reaper’s hand worked him through his thick leather pants, the man’s thighs flexing as his hips bucked.

“Fuck yeah.” Riddick growled, “Just like that.”

“Just wait.“Reaper grinned wickedly. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

…………………………………………………

Riddick adjusted his goggles against the dust kicked up by the drop ship’s lift off. There was a small settlement a few miles away where he could catch a ride off this back water planet. At least they left him a canteen of water and a knife. Downright generous of them. Hunters who kept their word... who knew.

He licked his lips, the taste of other man still lingering on his tongue. Still felt the touch of calloused hands on his skin. as a matter of fact, he felt rode hard and put up wet. And fuck if he hadn’t enjoyed every minute of it. He shook out his leg, all that time spent in those shackles had left him with strained muscles and lingering cramps.

No matter, he’d walk it off soon enough.

He glanced up at the night sky once more. If he squinted He could just make out the light trail of the ship as it made the jump into hyperspace. Or maybe it was just his imagination. He gave an irreverent salute to the fading trail, smirking as he turned towards the lights of the settlement in the distance.

If he booked it he would make it in time for a late supper. Maybe a little mulled wine for after. Maybe a little something more.

After the day he’d had, he could do with something sweet … and hot.

Lord knows he’d worked up an appetite.

Chapter Text

Derek was already on the rough wooden porch, mug in hand, when Stiles slowly rolled his heavy bike up the loose gravel drive. There were differences he noted first, the grown in man beard to go with the lumberjack chic, worn denim and plaid. The lack of leather and that permanent frown.

As he dismounted the bike and carefully took off his helmet, he saw the new laugh lines around the eyes, the soft flyaway hair; the relaxed slump of those broad shoulders.

“Well don’t you look like a real LumberJack Timberwolf.” He curled his lip, hooking the helmet unto the bike. He slung his saddle bags over his shoulder and unzipped his leather riding jacket.

Derek smiled. It was soft. Stiles liked how it looked on him. Derek looked good, comfortable. So different from the haunted, wounded and broken down boy who’d left Beacon Hills, shaking and bloody in the back seat of his sister’s speeding car.

The werewolf moved around the cabin comfortably, leaving Stiles to come in and close the door behind himself . Stiles watched him putter around the kitchen, tugging off his gloves and stuffing them into his jacket pocket.

The silence was comfortable between them as he hung up his leathers and pulled off his heavy boots, leaving him in his socked feet. It was strange, like it hadn’t been more than five years since they’d last been face to face. Like they both each hadn’t been changed so profoundly since then.

There was a mug of steaming coffee for him at the kitchen counter and he hummed appreciatively at the taste.

“Huh… You remembered how I liked it?”

Derek chuckled softly, refilling his own mug. “Hot as lava, black as your soul and enough sugar to give you diabetes. Yeah… I remember.”

“Ha ha funny ha, joke wolf.” Stiles snorted and hopped up unto the wooden bar stool, hooking his feet on the bars. “Still, thanks.”

They manage to make small talk as they finished their coffees, catching up on years gone by. It’s only when they are settled down on the comfortable couch, the fireplace crackling happily; that Derek broached the subject they’d both been dancing around.

“It’s permanent. We’ve tried everything. I’m okay with it.”

Stiles stared down at his hands, flexing his palm and wincing as the thick scar tissue pulled. He absently massaged his palm with his other hand, biting back the million questions he wanted to ask.

He wanted to know exactly what they tried, what procedures, what rituals, what research had been done. He wanted to dig into the problem with his dull nails and tearing it apart. He felt utterly useless, incandescently furious and totally heartbroken.

Derek deserved better. Shit. They all had deserved better.

Stiles worked his jaw back and forth in the familiar exercise, feeling as the scars along his cheek and neck pulled dully. The nerves along that swatch of skin had withered years ago so he no longer felt the pain that crept like fire under his skin.

Derek was facing him, his eyes floating just over Stiles’ shoulder. His kaleidoscope eyes were dilated, his pupils blown wide and milky white. Stiles felt a sharp pang of heartbreak once more, knowing that those beautiful eyes would never meet his again. Never give him those looks that were a mix between irritation and fond exasperation.

“I should have been there. Maybe I could have helped.”

Derek barked a harsh laugh, his eyes narrowing as he threw a flat glare in Stiles' general direction.

“When could you have done that? When you were in the ICU fighting for your life? When you were trying to organize your dad’s funeral from your hospital bed? When you were in physiotherapy trying to get back movement in half your body? When you were in and out of the hospital for skin graft surgery?”

Stiles stomach flopped and his eyes stung. Derek sighed tiredly and reached over, grasping around before snagging Stiles’ scarred hand.

“The point is, we were both in a really fucked up place. We couldn’t even take care of ourselves much less see about other people. Thank God for Cora and Melissa or we’d both probably be dead by now.”

“Damn…” Stiles whispered hoarsely, threading his fingers with the other man’s for much needed comfort. “Blunt much, Mean wolf.”

“Hey…” Derek tugged at his hand sharply, “We’re too fucking old for that shit. We’ve seen too fucking much… well, figuratively speaking off course.”

He shrugged and motioned absently at his eyes with a rueful grin. Stiles gaped stupidly at his tactless humor for a few seconds before he broke out into peals of loud laughter, leaning against the other man as he cackled unrepentantly.

Derek soon joined him in laughter and it echoed through the quiet and cozy little house for a long while. They settled against each other on the couch, Derek’s arm slung over Stiles’ shoulder as they caught their breath.

Stiles sighed contentedly before twisting his to look up at Derek’s profile. “Can you see anything at all? How does it work?”

Derek pursed his lips. “Sight’s gone completely, even when I try to activate my wolf sight.” His irises turned a vibrant blue, the rings thin around the pearlescent pupils. “But it was gradual so my other senses grew stronger to compensate.”

Stiles quirked his head. “So what… you got echolocation like some kind of bat?”

“No.” Derek rolled his eyes. The move looked weird. “My hearing and smell just got sharpened. My sense of touch went a bit wonky for a while. I can feel when things are near me. It took some getting used to, for sure.”

Stiles sat up in interest. “So… like some kind of extra sensory perception?”

Even when blind, Derek could still give him that look. “I don’t have ESP, Stiles.”

“Yeah I guess…” Stiles nodded sagely. “It would be more like Acute Sensory Perception since you’re still within the five senses. Man, I wonder….”

Derek frowned and shook his head. “I can almost see that look on your face.” He jabbed a finger at where Stiles’ face was. “Yes. That look. That research boner look. You know the one. Stop it now.”

“Rude.” Stiles pouted, flopping sideways unto the back of the couch. He hooked one arm over the back and pulled one leg up. “I will have you know that it’s my research boner as you call it that allows me to be my own boss these days. People pay a pretty penny for information these days.”

“Yeah, I’m into books myself. I use a dictation software and have a great editor.”

Stiles gaped for a moment. “Yeah. Cora never said anything about that. What have you done? Have I read your stuff?”

“I don’t think you have.” Derek flushed pink and sunk deeper into the cushions. “It’s more geared towards a younger target audience.”

“A younger target… wait. You write YA fiction?” he bounced in his seat. “Oh my god… which one is it? No wait .... let me guess.”

Derek sunk even lower in his seat as Stiles mind raced, his face flushing deeper as the smaller man inhaled sharply. Stiles voice was low and careful when he finally spoke.

“Please tell me that the ‘Dawn of the Wolf Trilogy’ is your brain child and that the three main protagonists are inspired by you me and Lydia. I fucking love that shit, dude!”

Derek mock grimaced. “Celia’s a mix of Lydia and Cora, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s why she’s so fucking badass.” Stiles chuckled. “I totally ship Max and Dalton though but man, that slow burn is killing me. Get them together already. Max needs to catch a fucking clue seriously. He’s totally oblivious to Dalton’s angsty pining.”

Derek pushed out his lower lip. “Uhhh…. Stiles.”

“I mean like who wouldn’t notice a totally hot guy turning into a complete derp whenever they’re together. Dalton practically has heart eyes whenever he sees Max. I’m sure everyone else in the pack has noticed it.”

“Stiles…” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “Stiles!”

“Huh?”

“He wasn’t the only oblivious one.”

Stiles leaned forward against his leg. “What do you mean?”

The werewolf gave a put upon sigh. “I’m saying that the character has a lot more in common with you than you realized.”

It took a few moments for the light bulb to go off over Stiles’ head and he blinked in surprise. “Really? Huh. Wow.”

“Yeah” Derek shrugged. “Really.”

Stiles picked at the hem of his jeans. “You still have a lot in common with Dalton then?”

Derek stilled then turned his head towards where Stiles was sitting. “In all that matters, yes.”

Stiles smiled and felt a blush crawl up his cheeks, he reached out and snagged Derek’s hand and brought it up to his smiling face.

He could feel the man startle as the rough feel of his scars, the warm fingertips gently feeling along Stiles cheek bones up to the ridge of his forehead, where his eye brow was split.

Stiles leaned his face into the touch, letting the other man gently explore the road map of pain the last five years had been. Derek’s touch was reverent as he felt along Stiles’ lips and the old ragged scar that cut through them.

“Oh Stiles” Derek sounded heart broken. Stiles just shook his head.

“Hey, don’t be sad. Think of it this way. You’re blind as a bat and I have a face made for radio. We’re practically a match made in heaven.”

“Oh my God.” Derek groaned loudly, rolling his eyes so hard that he almost saw his own brain.

Stiles fell off the couch laughing.

Chapter Text

October 6th - Panties

Trust the zombie apocalypse to occur when Xander was clear across the United States of America. As far from Sunnydale as he could have possibly been without crossing the Atlantic. In fact, he hadn’t even expected anything like this.

Ever since he’d learned of the things that went bump in the night, he’d expected the demon apocalypse, the vampire apocalypse or even the magic gone wrong apocalypse. He’d braced himself for the end whenever the next big bad rolled into town and wanted to turn the world inside out, making his piece with the world before wading into battle once more.

The last thing he’d ever expected was fucking zombies. Talk about the wrong kind of un-dead. He never thought that he’d prefer the company of vampires. Or that they would be so awesome at zombie killing.

In fact most of the demonic underworld found the shambling corpses a right tasty snack. “Aged like fine wine”, one skorlack demon had joked one night, its jagged teeth glistening with blood and ichor under the harsh streetlight; “always on tap and with free delivery too.”

Xander had faux chuckled along with the gallows humour, already edging away behind Spike as the noise of wet crunching and smacking turned his stomach.

Spike had just rolled his eyes and grabbed Xander by the collar, frog marching him away from the feasting beastie and shoving him into the car the vamp and stolen and hot-wired.

Despite his usual level of annoyance with the bleach blond vampire, Xander had considered himself lucky that Spike had been along for the trip when things had gone pear shaped. The demon had sniffed out the situation early and had the secured resources that kept them safe and defended while most of the rest of humanity ran around in blind panic.

He’d even given Xander enough time to make a last call to Sunnydale where Willow and Giles were already battening down the magical hatches while Buffy prowled the chaotic streets. It had been a huge relief to know that his people were safe back home. Well, as safe as they could be on a hell mouth anyway.

Then, it was time for the epic road trip: Spike and Xander edition. Sadly, they couldn’t secure a plane and driving was surprisingly hard with so many wrecked and derelict cars blocking the road ways.

Not to mention the hordes of savage undead around every frikkin’ corner.
They’d stopped for the night at a local strip mall, sneaking into one of the only stores with the metal security door rolled down and still intact. They’d learned pretty quickly not to make any noise if they could help it.

Noises attracted zombies and other walking horrors that now felt brave enough to walk openly; snacking on whatever they could get their hands, tentacles or ravenous glow clouds around.

The store in question was a Victoria’s Secret and they’d cleared out the small store quickly, dispatching the poor undead manager and dumping her body two streets over. Other than that, the store was relatively clean, had an ensuite bathroom with working toilet and didn’t smell like wet garbage so Xander considered it a win.

They secured the doors from the inside and Spike disappeared through the roof access to go scrimmage for supplies before the sun rose, leaving Xander to set up their sleeping arrangements for the day. The metal rolling doors allowed him the use of a small lamp and he made quick work of setting up a small camp site in the small manager’s office.

With his work done and Spike gone for the next couple of hours, he wandered out unto the main store and browsed along the aisles. He wasn’t a stranger to women’s lingerie stores. He’d been best friends with some BAMF women and they had no qualms dragging him along for company when they went shopping.

He’d been purse holder, clothing rack and impartial judge to some truly varied and scandalous fashion shows and had fought down many a raging boner for his trouble. He’d come away learning much more about women’s undergarments than he ever would have learned on the internet though.

As he ran his fingers over the soft and silky garments, savouring the smooth glide against his skin. He missed soft things. The last few weeks had been rough durable clothes and sleeping on various uncomfortable surfaces, strapped with various weapons and accoutrement that were too important not to have on his person. This was the first time in a while that they’d spent the day in a place safe enough to let their guards down a bit.

Xander studied the panties in his hand, absently rubbing the material between his fingertips as he deliberated. The decision was an easy one and soon he was stripping off in the small changing room, his gun slung within easy reach because one could never be too careful in a zombie apocalypse.

He sacrificed a couple wet wipes to the cause, cleaning off most of the sweat and dirt of the road and soon enough he was slipping on the red panties with a sigh. The thin satin felt awesome against his bare skin, smooth as it slide along the line of his legs, the curve of his ass.

He twisted in the full length mirror, running an appraising hand over his ass cheeks, a fine tremor running through him at the feeling. He bit his lip, adjusting the tuck of his chubb in the lacy front. Fuck it felt so good.

He went up onto his toes, watching how his thighs and calves flexed and his butt tightened. He’d forego the matching fluffy house slippers as he was a menace in heels and that would be just begging for a sprained ankle. No thank you.

He was just contemplating putting on the floor length red stain night gown when a low voice came from beyond the change room door.

“Well, don’t you look like a right nummy treat?”

Xander looked around to see Spike leaning against the door frame and ran his fingers though his brown curls.

“Thought I’d scratch this off my bucket list while I still could. Didn’t want to die without finding out what the big secret Victoria’s been keeping from us all.”

He turned back towards the mirror and cocked his hip seductively.
“I have to say, though, I do feel beautiful and desirable so maybe Vicky has the right idea.”

Spike chuckled, plucking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it back into the pocket of his leather duster. He carefully stepped up behind the brunette and pressed up against his back, pale hands caressing up his bare hips to rest at his waist.

“Well, you do look like a pretty princess to me.”

Xander mock growled weakly tried to buck the vamp off him and only succeeded his rubbing his ass into the other man’s crotch. The hands at his waist held him still. Spike’s breath was hot against his neck as he pressed his obvious erection into the cleft of Xander’s ass cheeks.

“Be still now luv, you’re looking to make someone like me lose control. You’ll not like what happens after that.”

Xander felt a flush at the words, his hips bucking helplessly; the press of Spike’s leather clad hard-on as it snagged on the flimsy satin making heat coil in his belly.

“Yeah?” he challenged in a thready voice. “And what exactly might happen when someone like you loses control?”

“The poet in me would kiss you breathless, making sure you never want or need to leave my arms.” Spike’s teeth scrapped against the soft skin of his neck and Xander shuddered with shocked pleasure. “The demon in me would thow you down right here and claim you, pushing that little slip of cloth to one side and fucking that sweet ass deep until you screamed my name. You’d be mine and mine alone and I’d never fucking let you go.”

Xander was painfully hard, pre-cum soaking the front of the panties as his cock head peeked out from the thin elastic waist band. He relaxed into spike’s embrace, tilting his head to one side as a silent surrender.

“What about both? Can I have both? The poet and the demon.”

The blond licked a hot stripe up the brunet’s neck, sucking on his pulse point as it raced under the pink flushed skin.

“You think you can handle both? It’ll be you and me ‘till the end. Maybe even beyond that. I won’t let you go I said.”

Xander nodded, turning his head to share a hot and filthy kiss with the man holding him close. “To the end and beyond? Yeah… I like the sound of that.”

Spike went into game face and grinned wildly as he reached down to cup Xander though the soaked satin panties, biting down into the flesh of his neck as Xander came from the pleasure of it.

The brunet arched, body shuddering as the vamp held him close; legs going weak as Spike drank deeply. The bite marks stung as the vamp finally pulled away but that was soon soothed as the blond licked at them gently.

When Xander could finally speak again he gave a weak laugh.

“So, I was told there would be fucking my sweet ass so deep that I screamed your name? I’d like to get to that very much soon please and thank you.”

Spike barked a laugh and gave Xander’s spent cock a teasing squeeze before snagging Xander’s gun holster and tugging the brunet towards the small office where their camp beds had been set up.

“Don’t worry pet. I’ll do right by you. Don’t you fret.”

Xander could only nod eagerly, snatching up the matching nightgown as they went. Oh yeah, scratch another one off the bucket list.

Chapter Text

October 7th - Auction

The bar at the fancy smancy hotel was a monster of a thing made from polished dark wood and shiny brass fittings. Bottles on bottles of obscenely expensive liquor gleamed in perfect lighting on the mirrored shelves in exquisitely organized rows.

Competent and good looking bar tenders flitted confidently from customer to customer, pouring and mixing a myriad of drinks for the very rich, very demanding crowd. It was all so surreal and so fucking terrifying at the same time.

People like Steve didn’t fit in a place like this. Hell, he wouldn’t have been able to get a job as one of the smartly dressed and smiling bar staff. He certainly didn’t belong in this shiny, rich, honey-coloured world.

He pulled uncomfortably at his tight and itchy collar, feeling himself sweating through the thin white undershirt already. Thank god the suit was black and wouldn’t show any sweat stains and he’d have to scrape the money together to get the suit professionally cleaned before returning it.
It was Thor’s good concert suit and Loki would kill them both in their sleep if he found out that his brother had lent it to Steve for the night. But desperate times called for desperate measures and Steve was definitely fucking desperate.

He drained the last of his liquid courage and thumped the heavy crystal glass down unto the bar. That would be his only drink for tonight. He needed to be clear headed if he was going to achieve his nearly impossible goal. The rest of the night would be club soda and bitters if he didn’t want to accidentally throw up on someone important from nerves.

“You look a little nervous. Let me buy you a drink gorgeous.” A warm, deep voice said from his right elbow. A hand wearing an expensive looking red and gold watch slapped a thick money clip down unto the bar. “Bar keep, another one of whatever my friend just had, thanks.”

Steve was still staring at the tanned hand, pricey watch and black cuffs of his tailored suit when the bartender responded. “One glass of Clemment’s Old Charter coming right up sir.”

The surprisingly calloused fingers tapped on the bar top in a cherry little pattern. The deep velvet voice chuckled. “The man has good tastes. And cocky too… starting off with the thousand dollar a shot whiskey before the circus even begins….”

Steve didn’t even hear the rest of what the voice was saying because his brain had stuttered to a stop. His heart as well. He swayed on the spot. “One thou…. Thousand dollars?”

He turned wide eyes to the startled looking bartender. The young woman got an uncertain look in her eye but nodded. “Yes sir. You said you wanted to the ‘good stuff’.”

Steve wheezed out a breath, he could feel his face growing cold. One thousand dollars. Oh my god. He couldn’t afford….. Oh my god. He was fucked. They were all fucked. His collar felt like a vice, the suit felt plastered to his body. Darkness crept along the edges of his vision. He tugged at his tie helplessly and gasped.

“I need air.”

Steady hands caught his elbow and the next thing he knew he was out on the hotel balcony, leaning against the railing as he struggled to breathe. He heard a couple buttons pop on the shirt as it ripped the collar over and mourned his next meager salary check. Loki was going to kill them both dead for sure.

He felt a deep keening sort of disappointment. He’d let everybody down. He’d let Bucky down. He’d failed the mission they’d all worked so hard for. Sacrificed so much for.

“Oh god…” he hung his head, his chin touching his chest as his eyes stung. “I fucked it all up. Haven’t even started and I fucked it up. Way to go Rogers. Ya big dummy.”

“Oh I don’t know.” Came the velvet warm voice from his side once again, startling him as he'd forgotten the man was still there. “As someone who fucks things up a lot, I can tell you that there’s always a way of coming back. All can’t really be lost can it?”

Steve spun to face the owner of the voice and stared, stunned. The man was beautiful, dark haired, bright eyes and utterly beautiful. He was also looking at Steve with genuine concern, something Steve hadn’t encountered in a stranger in a long fucking time.

A deep sadness washed over him and he had to swallow down bile. He wouldn’t want to throw up the booze he’d have to shell out a thousand dollars of their ‘miracle money’ for now would he. Especially on the kind beautiful man who looked so at home among the rich, hoi-pilloi.

God, how was he going to do succeed now? Their funds were already so low. They’d all scraped and scrounged and tightened their belts for this one chance and he’d frittered away a part of it so foolishly.

He finally answered the other man’s question, his voice thready and wet. “Maybe there are some battles you just don’t walk away from. Lord knows I’ve walked away from many that I shouldn’t have.”

He looked down at the thin black tie crumpled in his fist.

“Maybe my luck’s run out finally. Maybe there are no more miracles left. Though I think that bleeding out in the hot afghani desert might be preferable. At least there I’d be the only one paying for my fuck up.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the beautiful stranger. A warm and solid hand cupped his elbow. “What’s on that mind of yours soldier? It’s not just the drink is it?”

“Nah, that’s just the rotten cherry on top the already shit Sunday.” Steve gave a mirthless laugh. “The worst part of this whole mess is that I’ve lost my one slim chance to bid for a night with Justin hammer.”

The hand on his elbow jerked but stayed where it was, though the touch was a little more tentative. “Uh… Hammer? Really?” the voice sounded a little choked. “I can’t really see it. You and Justin hammer?”

Steve flushed at the barely disguised disgust in the man’s voice, shaking his head roughly. He felt an overwhelming need to explain himself to this stranger. To not let him walk away with the wrong idea.

“It’s not what you think.” He pleaded, staring into those warm and wary brown eyes. “HammerTech has been running a testing program for their bionic prosthesis and I need to get someone unto the program.”

He looked away, staring unseeing out into the night. “It’s Bucky you see, he’s my best friend. My brother. He lost his arm out there. A few seconds later and he’d have lost so much more. I’d have brought him home in a body bag.”

Steve swiped at his eyes with the tie, sniffing as he tried not to break down completely. “There was a bomb. He saved me. Dragged my ass out of there when I wouldn’t leave my men. the army booted us back stateside with a pat on the back and a box full of medals. It took us a while to pull each other back from that hellish nightmare. A long fucking time to get our shit together.”

He let his head fall back as he closed his eyes.

“No one gives a fuck about vets these days. His HMO won’t cover a prosthetic. The VA gave this shitty plastic thing which hurts his arm all the fucking time. And he doesn’t even complain. He just grins and bears it because he’s the strong one you know? Even when he can’t keep down a job and we both have to live on his benefits and my shitty part time. Even when we had to go hungry for days in order to raise the money for this chance. He’s always been the strong one. Ever since we was kids….”

He blinked rapidly, suddenly remembering where he was and who he was with. He glanced at the wide eyed brunet and flushed hotly.

“Aw shit, I’m sorry. Here I am pouring out all my troubles on a beautiful stranger when all you did was offer me a drink.” He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the careful hairstyle Natasha had combed for him. “You must think I’m the worst kind of loser. It’s ok, i don't mind. I’ve been called worse.”

The beautiful stranger kept silent and Steve couldn’t help but give a deep sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s still a chance I can come back from this. I could still win a date with Justin Hammer at the auction tonight. I have to stick it out to the end. i owe Bucky that much at least.”

The brunet shook his head sharply, folding his arms across his chest with a frown. “No you don’t. In fact, Forget Hammer and his shitty tech. Bucky is never going to get one of those arms.”

Steve gaped, stupefied. “What…. I don’t understand.”

The brunet smiled wide and squeezed his elbow. “He won’t need it because I’m going to build him a much better one.”

“Why would you do that? How would you even do that?” Steve found himself gaping even harder. “Why would you help us?”

A sculpted eye brow quirked as kissable lips curled at the corners. “It’s the least I can do for someone who thinks I’m beautiful.”

Steve blushed pink at the teasing words. “Be serious though. How can you give Bucky an arm?”

The stranger blinked at him in confusion before his face morphed into disbelief. “You don’t recognize me do you?, gorgeous.”

Steve made a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry. Should I?”

The smile was back but it was brighter this time. “Let me introduce myself then, Anthony Stark. CEO and Head of R&D at Stark industries and soon to be Stark Prosthetics. You can call me Tony.”

Steve frowned in confusion. “Wait, I thought you were older… and bald”

Stark’s sharp peel of laughter echoed across the empty balcony. “Oh man, that’s Obie, my God father. He finally retired last month and handed over the reins of the company to me."

“And you’re going into the prosthetic business just like that?” Steve couldn’t seem to parse what was going on.

Tony leaned against the railing and looked out unto the city lights. “I’ve spent most of my life making weapons and gear to support our troops in the field. Things designed to wage war. Maybe it’s time I help our brave soldiers after they get home as well.”

He gestured with his hands, eyes growing bright as he continued to speak. “Of course I’m going to have to test this stuff out so I’m going to need Bucky’s help and any other vets you know to come help me out. It won’t be free of course.”

And just like that Steve’s balloon wilted. Tony must have seen the devastated look on his face because he reached forward and grabbed his arms.

“Hey no, not like that. They’ll be consultants and get paid a generous stipend for their efforts. They’d be making a huge contribution to the project after all.

Steve’s grin was a bit watery as he tried to find some anchor in this whirlwind of emotions. He felt dizzy with hope and joy.

“I can’t believe that this is happening. Thank you so much. You’ve saved two lives tonight. Heaven knows how many more tomorrow.” He blurted happily, bringing his hands up to cup Tony’s elbows. “God, if you’d let me I could kiss you right now.”

“I usually spring for dinner first, gorgeous” Tony’s cheeks went pink as he curled him lips into a soft smile, shrugging his shoulders. “… but hey, I’m not stopping you.”

Steve grinned, the taste of thousand dollar a glass scotch on his tongue, the soft feel of a suit that probably cost more than his yearly salary under his fingertips, the smell of exclusive men’s cologne in his nose.

But none of that mattered as he leaned in and captured sweet, soft lips with his. As he slid his hands around a trim waist. As warm hands slip up his shoulders and into his hair. As they both moaned at the fire that kindled in their bellies.

Looks like there may have been one last miracle after all.

Chapter Text

The frail treaty between the Vulpēs Vulpini and the Canis Lycaon of Beacon Hills had held for the last two years, balanced delicately on the reputation and respect of Sheriff Janek Stillinski. The Reynard of the Vulpini was his own son and the sheriff stood as the only authority Stiles showed any kind of deference too. On the other hand, Talia Hale, the Alpha of the Lycaon and Deputy Mayor of Beacon Hills, was someone who Stiles didn't respect in the slightest.

"Sanctimonious bitch." he growled as he ran the preserve, feet swift and silent amongst the yellow red carpet of fallen leaves. "Sending along a fucking summons like a king on her throne. Too fucking high and mighty to just call me herself."

"Like you even answer any of her calls El Rey." Heather, his second in command and beta fox scoffed as she kept pace with him through the woods. "Remember that time you rerouted all calls from her number to the local dog pound? I swear her catty bitch of a daughter Laura wanted to scratch your pretty brown eyes out for a month after."

Stiles chuckled at the memory, baring his teeth in the mockery of a smile. It's not like he hated the woman. Wait, hold up. He actually did hate the woman. It was her actions or lack thereof that had led directly to his life circumstances and if it wasn't for his father's sake and the sake of his small but viciously loyal pack, he'd sink his teeth into her soft belly and rip out her hot and steaming insides.

Luckily for her, he had a sheriff shaped conscience who repeated the mantra "Murder is too much godamned paperwork, kid" whenever the blood lust surged strong and heady, filling his throat with that cloyingly iron taste and making his black claws lengthen and curl.

On his other side, his delta fox and left hand, Danny Mehealani huffed a laugh as he kept pace along the wooded path. "Or the time you spread the rumor that the Hale kids were infected with lice and they all had to stay home from school for the two weeks needed to apply the treatment. I swear Cora Hale was going to wear your guts for garters because she had to miss out on the soccer final against Beacon Falls. I thought she was going to wolf out right there in the hallway."

Stiles' sharp laugh came out like a yip, his eyes crinkling at the corners at the memory of the Hale pups coming returning to school, their tails between their legs at all the looks and whispers. Cora had been almost feral at the sight of him leaning against his locker, a wide and wicked grin on his face.

Thankfully, another of the wolf pups, Erica, had been smart enough to yank her away into the ladies' room and away from Stiles' path. At least one or two of the wolves seemed to have a good head on their shoulders. he'd often thought that Reyes would make a good fox but she'd been offered the bite first from Talia at Cora's behest.

He banished such thoughts and they came to the large clearing, their eyes taking in the contingent of Hales gathered at the far side. Stiles pulled up his ski mask to the bridge of his nose, the sharp white of the snarling fox fangs glinting in the fading light of the setting sun. beside him both Heather and Danny were doing the same, their gold eyes peering out over snarling maws just as his was glowing red.

"Whadya want Alpha Hale?" he stood feet apart, shoulders relaxed, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his hoodie. "This better be important. I'm missing out on the Doctor Who season finale and I love me some David Tennant."

"You rude little shit…." Laura Hale stepped forward with a snarl, hey eyes glowing gold with a tint of red. The rest of the little groups seemed satisfied with keeping back. he counted a frowning Talia, her conniving shit of a brother Peter, the broodmiester that was her son Derek, the surly Cora and a couple other rando wolves. Then, his eye caught on a tall lanky form trying to hide behind the others and his lip curled derisively.

Looked like Scotty boy was just as big of a coward as ever. Stiles had long ago stopped feeling the betrayal of having his best friend turn away from him. The deep cut of Scott rejecting him as a monster then skipping joyfully to the very wolves who'd been responsible for it all for the bite. Now all Stiles felt was a numbing indifference where the crooked jawed boy was concerned. That turned out to be a good thing because people whom Stiles felt negatively toward usually ended up suffering… a lot.

Case in point, Talia Hale who was currently trying to both keep her daughter from the ends of Stiles' claws and trying to get him to listen to what she was trying to say. Stiles gave a mock yawn, exchanging humorous looks with this own crew who were trying not to snigger as his utter lack of respect.

"Geez lady, get to the point already. Not all of us like watching someone standing around in the woods having a meeting that could have been handled by email. Nor do I appreciate people trying to blow smoke up my ass. Just tell me why you called me here."

Talia took a deep breath, as if silently praying for patience. Stiles liked to see that expression on her usually smarmy face.

"Deaton needs access to the Nemeton…."

Stiles made a sound like buzzer, cutting her off. "EEEEEh. Not happening. Pull the other one."

She sputtered, "You haven't even heard the reason…"

"Doesn't matter." he cut her off again, his voice flat and unforgiving. "Your pet druid isn't stepping a foot into our territory or did you forget what happened the last time you neglected your pack's sworn duty to the land."

He gestured to himself and his two fox kin. "I got jacked and made into a meat puppet by an ancient evil fox spirit and almost sent the world to hell in a hand basket. After that we all agreed that the Nemeton and you Canis Lycaons are no touchy for the good of everyone involved."

He tilted his head insolently. "Or are you forgetting the treaty you signed in blood, Alpha Hale?"

Talia looked like she'd just eaten something both slimy and bitter and his lips twitched behind his mask. She took a few seconds to slow her breathing, he could actually hear her teeth grinding from across the clearing.

"You're so damned selfish." Laura scoffed loudly, pushing herself into the lime light once again. "People could die and you want to play stupid power games. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Don't you know that power games are the best games? Just ask your precious Alpha. She'll tell you. She and Deaton are like two peas in a fucking pod when it comes to laying out some spectacular mind fucks. Don't bring your pity to this party, bitch. No one here gives a flying fuck."

Talia slaps a hand down on her red faced daughter's shoulder and slowly yanked her back to stand among the other wolves. Laura gave her mother and alpha a betrayed look but stayed silent and glowering, Peter's clawed hand taking the place of the alpha's and keeping the woman in place. The rest of the wolves tittered in the back but Stiles paid them no mind. Heather would be keeping a sharp eye on them.

"Reynard Stiles…" Talia began once more. "Surely if you heard the circumstances of the situation…."

"Don't need too. Answer's still no. your little tree fucker's not setting a foot across our borders. Period. End of discussion."

"Not even if it means saving innocent lives?" she tried for sympathy and motherly compassion. She failed.

"Uh..no." he gave her a half lidded look, already fed up with the circular conversation. "If you were really concerned about these so called 'innocent lives' you keep harping about, you would have either told me flat out what the actual problem was so that my pack could decide whether take care of it ourselves or you would have found another way entirely. Your motives are as transparent as glass Alpha Hale."

He quirked a peirced eyebrow. "Tell your druid to get off his lazy, sketchy ass and solve his own problems."

"Stiles…" a soft voice came from the back of the wolves, Scott stumbling his way forward as if he'd been given a hard shove. "What if your dad was one of the lives in danger? How would you feel if something were to happen to him?"

The wind dropped suddenly as Heather and Danny stilled beside him. Stiles gave Scott a lazy look, his voice low and promising death as he spoke. "Is my dad one of those in danger Scotty? Or is that some kind of ham handed threat your alpha put you up to?"

"You motherfuckers." He laughed, the sound of it chilling as it echoed through the silent clearing. "I must admit that I'm no longer surprised by the shit you keep trying to pull over on me. " He gave his former best friend a simple nod. "I'll see to making sure my dad stays safe and sound, don't you worry scottywolf. We Vulpinis look after our own."

As Scott shrunk back and glanced timidly as his alpha, Stiles turned his cold gaze back to her. "Are you done wasting our time now, Talia?" He drew out her name, the open mocking in his voice making her wolves bristle with anger. Not that he gave a fuck what they felt towards him anyway.

Talia Hale curled her lip, her polite façade falling away as she bared her teeth at him, her fangs dropping as she growled. Stiles took his hands out of his pockets, letting them hang relaxed at his side as his nails thickened and grew black. She wanted to things up a notch? She wanna be starting something? Well, he was ready for her. He wouldn't start a fight with the wolves but he sure as fuck would put an end to it.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling under his mask as his seconds, growled and braced for battle. He flashed his red eyes at hers, running his tongue over his fangs in anticipation for the feel of flesh tearing , the taste of hot and sticky blood across his tongue and down his throat.

"You looking for trouble Talia?" he taunted her. "You ready to take on a child of the Nogitsune once more? How long did it take for your wounds to heal the last time, huh? Two whole months, right? Maybe this time I can make them permanent. How does that sound? I certainly look forward to the challenge of carving my initials into your forehead."

That cooled her anger well enough and she carefully backed down. Mores the pity. He was looking forward to cutting into her beautiful face. She glared back at him, trying to save face among her pack because she'd lost any influence on his long ago.

"I see that we will not come to an accord with this. I withdraw my petition. The treaty still stands."

Laura tried to argue but Peter yanked her into the shadows with a sharp growl. There was some shuffling from the tree line but eventually their footsteps were heard getting further and further away. Soon after the rest of the wolves slipped into the trees, their heartbeats growing fainter and fainter until only Talia remained.

She gave him one last searching look, shoulders lowering when she found no quarter nor mercy within the whiskey coloured eyes. She stepped back, never turning away from him, until she too was gone; her steps making almost no noise along the forest bed.

Stiles let out a huge sigh, yanking the ski mask from his face and letting his head fall back to breathe in the night air. After taking a a couple of sweet lungfuls, he turned his head towards a smirking Heather. "What's the deal with the ooglie boogie that got all our flea bags up in a tizzy? That all wrapped up as yet?"

"Yup." She nodded, her curls bouncing cheerfully. "The spell you set up worked. It came right to the Nemeton like catnip. Brought a couple of friends like you guessed it would. Got them all in one neat swoop."

Danny chuckled darkly. "Chris Argent is driving the bodies down to San Diego as we speak. He sends his thanks by the way. Both the hide and the horns are extremely rare and he can get a pretty penny for them from the right buyer."

"Good. As long as we get our usual cut" Stiles thinned his lips, looking into the forest where the wolves had disappeared. He shook his head once again in disgust. "Self righteous fuckers."

He gave a full body shake, shedding his bad mood off like water, and turned towards his fox kin with a vulpine smile. "Let's go home guys. If we hurry we can still catch Doctor Sexy and eat our pizza before it gets too cold."

Chapter Text

"I'm still not seeing anything on the map." Rodney whined as he walked, head down as he studied the small ancient device in his hands.

John absently wondered how the man was able to walk blindly through the wooded path without tripping over some random root when he could trip over his own feet walking through Atlantis.

The genius wiped at his forehead with his shirt sleeve and frowned at the big alien leading them down the path. "Come on Ronon…. We've been walking for over an hour now. When are we going to get to this awesome, must see, paradise anyway?"

Ronon didn't even look back, just shrugging his large shoulders, his hand on his sweet pulse gun. Rodney grumbled some more and John was glad that he was bringing up the rear so that Rodney wouldn't see him grinning.

Thankfully, Teyla managed to distract both men before things got too 'rumble in the jungle', keeping them both occupied until they emerged from the thick tree line unto a breathtaking sight.

Ronon grinned as he watched Rodney's hand go slack around the ancient device in his hand, his mouth gaping open as he stared at the calm blue waters of the alien ocean. Pristine white sand stretched along the coast line for miles in either direction, separating the lush green of the dense forest from the crystal clear waters.

"Told you it would be worth the walk." He brushed his shoulder against the other man's, leaning in low to speak against the shell of his ear. Rodney nodded slowly, his eyes wandering up to the twin suns that hung high in the sky.

Ronon chuckled and placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder, pushing him along gently to where John and Teyla were already taking off their shoes and hanging their weapons on a nearby fallen tree trunk.

Making sure that the genius was situated in the middle of them all, he began to strip as well, leaving himself bare but for the long knife strapped to his thigh. He heard Rodney sputter behind him.

"We're skinny dipping? No one told me about the skinny sipping."

"You got a problem with nudity, Mckay?" John paused from where he had been unzipping his fly, his dog tags bright against his hairy chest. "Cuz I know we've all seen each other naked a bunch of times on missions."

"Of course not." Rodney made a face, "I work with the three hottest people on Atlantis, I have absolutely no problem with nudity." He jabbed a sharp finger at the suns. "I have a problem with melanoma though. Do you know how easy it is to get skin cancer? If someone had warned me I would have brought along extra sunscreen for everybody."

Teyla shared a confused look with Ronon then turned back to her friend and team mate. "Skin…. Cancer?"

"Didn’t Carson brief either of you on this?" Rodney gave her a disbelieving look. At both Teyla's and Ronon's confused expressions, he turned and gave a helpless look at their team leader. "John."

Shephard nodded seriously. "I'll look into it when we get back."

Somewhat mollified, Rodney dug into one of the pockets of his vest, pulling out six little silver packets, handing one each to John and Teyla, two to Ronon and kept two for himself.

"Malignant Melanoma is a type of cancer that develops in pigment containing cells in the body called melanocytes. It's what gives human skin it's complexion. It's mainly caused by UV rays which comes from direct exposure to sunlight."

Ronon gave a disbelieving huff. "Sunlight…. Can kill you?"

"Everything can kill you. " Rodney retorted, stripping out of the last of his clothes and folding them neatly on the tree trunk. He gestured as one of the little packages, tearing it open and squeezing out the white liquid inside. "The trick is to avoid being is a vulnerable position. Prevention is better than cure."

He cocked his head, "I can't believe no one in medical ever went over this with either of you. I have to talk to Carson about this. With all that I complain about his bone rattle and sheep's blood, simple protective measures should be taken for anyone going through the gate."

"I agree." John nodded, already slathering the cream on his body and rubbing it in. "I didn't even think about packing sunscreen in my gear. All teams should have it. Or at least put it on before each mission."

Teyla, who had been looking at John's motions carefully, also tore open her packet and squeezed out the lotion. Rodney glanced over.

"Dot little spots all over your body, then rub them in. a little goes a long way. John, get her back and I'll do Ronon's. Make sure to get as much coverage as you can. We don't like cancer but sunburn is a major issue as well."

"Thank you Rodney" Teyla smiled and got to work. Ronon copied, feeling a bit stupid but was willing to humour his teammates if they thought it was a legitimate concern. He'd never heard of someone getting 'skin cancer' but there was a lot about the universe he still didn't know.

The liquid was cool against his skin and he rubbed until the white streaks disappeared. Then Rodney's hands were on his back, warm and strong as they tried to cover all of his broad shoulders down to just above the crack of his ass.

"Thanks" he grunted as the hands pulled away, voice gruff because he hadn't had someone touch him like that in a long time.

"No problem" Rodney's voice was a bit breathy and low and he cleared his throat as he stepped away. The genius then turned around, handing him the pack over his shoulder. "Do me."

Ronon barked a laugh and stepped closer, warming the liquid on his hands before putting it to the man's skin. "Don't mind if I do."

He smiled to himself as he saw a flush crawl up Rodney's neck and around to his back. Ronon's cock twitched and he willed it still. There'd be time for that later… if Rodney really was interested.

Ronon was a patient man. He would wait until they were in a more private place before approaching the man about sharing blankets. The genius was a practically man, often talking about missing sex and Ronon knew that the other man had taken several partners on Atlantis.

On Seteda, the warriors often shared their bodies with each other. It brought them closer and satisfied their sexual appetites. It was different on Atlantis, earth people were such prudes. He'd approached John one time but the man, though thoroughly flattered, flummoxed and embarrassed at the offer, had politely declined and explained about the myriad of earth ways which made it a bad idea.

In the end though, John admitted that he didn't feel comfortable having relations with someone under his direct command and since he was the military leader, it narrowed his options greatly. That and the fact that he was something called Demisexual, which meant that he didn't find anyone sexually attractive unless he formed a strong emotional connection.

Ronon had been a bit confused but John had been patient in his explanations of the sexual spectrum. That kind of made all of Rondey's 'Kirk' complaints baseless but john said it gave him a chuckle to hear Rodney bitch about it.

With all of them suitably protected from the sun, they waded into the cool waters with varying expressions of pleasure and joy. The sea was calm and so clear he could see the detail of his toe nails. John whooped and dove, swimming along the seabed until he came up on their other side.

Teyla was doing graceful strokes, the clear waters sluicing off her firm, naked body as she cut through the water. Ronon could see the holster of his knife, dark against his thigh and he ducked under the water a few times to get his locks wet through.

Rodney was making faces at the water and Ronon swam over. The genius was examining a piece of smooth stone which looked dull in his palm but when he pulled it under water, it began to glow.
he repeated the move a few times mumbling about ancient sea glass and other science stuff.

Ronon carefully cupped the other man's hand in his and turned it so that the small stone dropped into the water and sank. Before Mckay could sputter about it, Ronon pulled the wrist closer and pressed his mouth to Mckay's pulse point.

"Science later. Rest and Relaxation now."

The genius huffed. "Who taught you about R&R?"

Ronon pressed his lips to Mckay's shoulder, tasting the salt of the sea and the faint tang of sun screen. "I hang with marine's all day. I pick up stuff."

"Very well then…" Rodney's eyes were as blue and the waters around them, pink dusting his cheeks. "Race you to Teyla. Loser has to carry whatever stones I pick up later to study."

He dove away on the last would, making broad strokes to where Teyla lay floating. Ronon blinked a bit as the scientist's playfulness before growling and diving after him.

He wasn't going to be lugging a ton of glowy rocks back to the gate. No fucking way.

Chapter Text

"That doesn't look right."

Tony lowered his camera, pulling out his cell phone and turning on the light. It saved him having to trek back across the room to grab the light from his toolkit and he was already half leaning/crouching into the closet of their latest murder victim. He used his phone camera to zoom in on the evidence, unable to hold the phone's light up as well as properly focus the heavy crime scene camera.

"Do you need assistance coming out of the cupboard?" a sultry voice purred in his ear and he jumped, almost dropping both. Ziva snickered as he glared at her, pulling back to stand up straight, the large brown evidence bag in her gloved hands clashing against her bulky, blue NCIS jacket. "I'm sure all your numerous one night stands will be disappointed to find out that you swim for the other team."

McProbie snickered loudly from where he was busy dropping eaves across the room where he'd been sketching the scene. He ducked his head quickly enough when Tony turned his glare his way.

Tony bit back on his almost automatic correction of the Isreali's idioms, instead setting aside the camera and pocketing the phone. Pulling out a a small evidence bag, he shifted further into the closet, carefully collecting some of the tiny, brittle, egg shaped things that lined the floor of the closet.

He quickly checked the clothes that hung above and found a long, heavy jacket covered with the tiny things as if someone had been rolling in them. He took a picture of the jacket with his phone, bright light still turned on as it caused the miniscule shells to glisten.

He'd just sealed the jacket into an evidence bag when Gibbs strode in, ever present cup of coffee in hand, NCIS cap pulled low over his eyes. Tony looked at his boss carefully. Cap pulled low, stern mouth in a thin line, bags under his eyes, death grip on the pour coffee cup.

Oh yeah, Gibbs was in a bad mood today.

****************

"I don't want to hear it DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice was strident as the elevator doors opened.

"I really think that we should at least check this out, Boss." Tony reasoned as he followed his boss off the elevator, "There's something weird about it. Familiar."

"Please don’t tell me that this is one of your stupid movies plots." The silver haired man rolled his eyes. "You think that shit is so clever but all you do is waste our time. Do your job and follow the leads that actually go somewhere."

Tony swallowed down his hurt, shunting aside his wounded pride for later. This wasn't the first time that Gibbs had dressed him down in public, but it was the first time where bearing the brunt of his boss' anger felt like a punishment, not a choice.

Where was the man who appreciated his unconventional thinking. Where was the man who'd read them all the riot act about following every lead and not letting anything slip through the cracks.

These days, Gibbs seemed more interesting in tearing him down, making him feel low. The head slaps had been sharper, more like reprimanding a naughty pet. These days Tony felt bruised, beaten down. Worn down. But, despite his personal problems, there was still a killer on the loose that they needed to track down. He take a deep, calming breath and forged on.

"I don't know, maybe it is from a movie, maybe it's not. All I know is that my gut is telling me that this could be important to the case."

'Well, listen to your so called gut on your own time, you hear me." Gibbs scoffed. "When you are on work you do as I say."

Tony clenched his jaw and bit back on an acid retort. It wasn't worth it to argue. Not now. He'd been planning on doing that anyway. Turning back to his computer, he mentally set aside the small sealed evidence bag in his pocket.

"Sure thing boss."

*******************

He tried to look the little shells up online but had no luck. McGee had laughed at his efforts and Abby had been too busy to more than humour him about the now dust residue which was all that had been left behind by even the gentlest of handling.

With nothing else to build on, he'd ended up calling the Dinozzo network, contacting fellow investigators Greg Sanders in Las Vegas and Danny Messer in New York. He sent them the pics from his phone they both recommended that he seek out an entomologist. Greg sent him some papers by the legendary Dr. Gil Grissom while Danny provided a contact at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History.

Doctor Lamar Quintero shook Tony's hand with a smile, blushing at Tony's charm as he lead the agent through one of the long storage halls of the Department of Entomology towards the smaller labs at the back. Tony goggled at the ceiling high shelves stacked with boxes upon boxes of specimens.

"I suppose you've heard every kind of Bug Doctor joke there is by now." Tony asked, leaning a hip against a nearby table as the scientist studied the shell remains under a microscope. The Doc grinned back at his over his shoulder, his dark curly hair flopping over his forehead; his mocca skin dimpling at the cheeks.

"Oh you don't know the half, Very Special Agent. As someone who has loved insects since he was five years old, I've heard and been called every name imaginable. There's hardly anything anyone can call me know that I haven't heard before."

Tony gives him a genuine smile, surprisingly charmed himself by the cheerful doctor with his black rimmed glasses and faint stubble. Lamar, as he was invited to call him, was respectful, intelligent, funny and seemed to move movies as much as he loved bugs.

So, as thanks for making himself available after working hours, Tony invited the man to a late dinner. Lamar had readily agreed, tugging on an actual tweed jacket and knitted scarf against the nights chill. Tony took him to one of the quieter, lesser known places he frequented and they ate light, it being almost midnight when they finally left the museum.

They discussed the evidence, which turned out to be discarded egg casings from a beetle that wasn't at all native to the state. Tony made quick notes on his phone to follow up and then set the device aside. Conversation was easy after that, Lamar was so passionate about his vocation and even though Tony could take or leave most creepy crawlies, he was fascinated by the other man's wealth on knowledge on the subject.

They part on good terms, Tony promising to call if the information helped the case in anyway. Neither of them had been eager to let the night end, late as it was and Tony found himself looking at the Doc's contact on his phone more than a few times during the next few days.

They solved the case four days later, which was four days too slow for Gibbs who prowled around like a bear with a hurt paw. Tony kept his head down, a bit disappointed that his evidence hadn't panned out to be anything significant. He hadn't mentioned it again but both Ziva and McGee liked to pick at it from time to time.

Maybe it was because he wasn't putting himself between a grouchy Gibbs and them anymore. It was time they grew up and dealt with the 'Second B for Bastard' on their own. Still, despite nothing coming from it work wise, Tony was glad for the opportunity to have met the sweet and smart Dr. Quintero.

It had been a while since he'd been so quickly and deeply in tune with someone else. His last steady female relationship had been Wendy and the wedding that wasn't. his last male attraction had been Gibbs but that had soon become twisted and had withered away under the weight of their eroding rapport.

He made a visit to the museum, in lieu of making a call; eager to see the Doctor in person once more. Lamar grinned at seeing him, making Tony stomach flip flop in a good way. Although they were both disappointed that their evidence hadn't panned out for Tony's case, the presence of the shells had led to an internal investigation by the Museum itself.

FBI Agent Seeley Booth along with Dr. Temperance Brennan and her team had followed the trail to an underground black market ring. He'd reached out to Tony afterwards, thanking him for cracking the whole thing with his lead. Turned out the victim had been part of the ring and had been very meticulous in keeping records of the people he'd dealt with. Soon after, Booth, Brennan and their team were part of the Dinozzo network and he carefully drew Dr. Quintero into the fold as well.

Lamar flourished within the new peer group, making fast friends with the team and growing new confidence professionally. He asks Tony to be his plus one for the annual museum gala and Tony accepts, flattered and enchanted to see Lamar stutter though his invitation.

Tony dressed in his best tux and felt a deep satisfaction when the scientist flushed and gaped at the sight of his in his suit. With a chaste kiss to the other man's knuckles, he escorted him into the gala space, staying at his side as they navigated the room. Tony had never been to one before and was surprised at the number of Washington movers and shakers who were in attendance.

Thankfully, both Booth and Brennan were also there with some of their team and that helped make the night more enjoyable. By the end of the night, they'd talked and laughed and danced until they were both exhausted and a little tipsy. Tony escorted Lamar home, lingering in the door way as the Doctor fumbled with his keys.

Tony wanted to kiss him so bad, he yearned for it. In fact, he wanted nothing more than for Lamar to invite him into his apartment. Into his arms and his bed. That didn't exactly happen but the doctor did lean over and give him a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Tony licked at the spot, making the other man's brown eyes widen as he went pink.

Tony's good mood lasted for days, thinking almost constantly about that almost kiss and sharing texts and funny pictures with the man who bestowed it upon him. Neither Ziva's and Tim's teasing nor Gibbs disdain over Tony's apparent personal joy could put a dent into his attitude. He invited Lamar over for a home cooked meal, playing the piano for him after as they drank wine and talked about insects.

Tony had lunch with Seeley, discussing some of the cases they'd both encountered and cultivating a friendship that Tony truly appreciated and cherished. Booth was a smart and experienced agent and respected tony on a professional level that he'd been lacking lately in his own work place.

After two months of making time for each other, Lamar finally invited Tony up to his small apartment. Tony felt honoured, touched to be welcome into such an intimate space. Everything in small apartment said something about the man, laying him open in a way that Tony was certain few had ever seen.

Beautiful display boxes were interspersed with thick reference books and science magazines. Movie cases were stuffed on shelves with geeky knick knacks and hand woven and comfortable looking afghans were tossed along with colourful knitted pillows and a thick and decadent woven rug.

"My sister knits…. A lot." he'd confessed sheepishly as they'd stood in the small kitchen making coffee. "I send her cool weird yarn as gifts and she sends me back stuff made from it. It's how we keep in touch now that she's moved to California."

Later that night when they are sitting together, a wooly afghan tucked around their legs and Carey Grant smiling on the screen, the kisses are as sweet and hot as Tony had hoped they'd be. He let himself be tugged to the bedroom and into bed, glutting his senses on the man who'd slipped into his heart so deftly.

He woke up with a warm hand on his ass and stubble burn on his inner thighs. His ass and back ached in that good, toe curling way and he smiled against the shoulder his face was smoshed against. He lay there in the pale early light of morning, snug against a warm, firm body and felt like he'd finally found a place where he truly belonged.

Loving Lamar was easy. Almost frightfully so. They seemed so different on paper but face to face they just seemed to gel in all the right ways. Tony still had his insecurities, he still struggled with his self-worth but talking to his lover, sharing his doubts and fears with another instead of keeping it all bottled up; helped him deal with a few of his deeper issues.

He started seeing a therapist, reluctantly at first, but after meeting with the woman recommended but both Seeley and Brenan, he'd made real progress. It was difficult, learning to trust someone with his truths and not trying to cover them with fake smiles and denial, but he pushed through the pain. He wanted, no, he needed to be a better man than he was. For both himself and his partner. He needed to discover who Anthony DiNozzo truly was.

His new found knowledge in entomology came in handy when the body of a marine turned up infested with unknown larvae. Tony had quickly snapped a picture and sent it to Lamar who'd alerted Brenan and her team as it was another rare species not native to the US. when Seeley had swooped in to pull the case into their larger black market investigation, Gibbs had been livid.

He'd ranted and raved at Tony both at the crime scene and in the bull pen, blaming him for the FBI moving in on their jurisdiction. Seeley had been livid on Tony's behalf, both at Gibbs and at everyone who'd stood around doing jack shit.

Tony had taken him out for drinks after wards, letting the man rant into his beer at the utter lack of professional respect the whole of NCIS had shown. He'd all but growled at Tony that he'd be welcome at the FBI in a hot minute the moment he decided to leave that toxic, orange nightmare. Tony had been flattered at the offer and promised the other agent to seriously give it some thought.

That night, as he shook in his lover's arms, he felt like he'd found home. He no longer had to try to make a family out of people who didn't love him back. He'd found a new love, new friends and, if Seeley was being serious, a new job that satisfied his need to serve and protect.

He resigned from NCIS the next day.

Chapter Text

"Ah, Mr. Reid. Thank you for waiting."

Spencer looked up from where he'd been studying the polished brass studs of his carrying case. The old man's cane tapped against the dark wood floor as he strolled towards the sitting area, the metal cap on the heavy carved wood walking stick, echoing sharply at every step.

"Mr. Rossi, Good afternoon." Spencer stood sharply, deftly tugging on the fitted bone and grey corset vest; smoothing the material flat before reaching out a hand. "I appreciate the call."

Rossi's hands were warm and calloused, taking Spencer's pale one within both of his. As he leaned forward, Spence could make out the dark gleam of a shoulder holster. He did not let his surprise show though. He'd done his research when the call had first come in.

Rossi led him down several corridors until they came to a large pair of heavy doors. They were just as ostentatious and over whelming as the rest of the house, screaming money and power so blatantly. The salt and pepper Italian rapped on the door three times then waited three seconds before he twisted the knob.

The large doors swung open easily, perfectly balanced to reveal the room beyond. Spencer took a second to case the room, tagging all the windows, doors and other potential dangers. He'd all but walked into the lion's den and if he wanted to walk out again unharmed, he'd have to stay on his feet and keep his wits about him.

The room was tastefully appointed, hard woods, burnished gold and supple leather. It was a man's room, made for men's delights. A large desk dominated on side of the room. It was a large monstrosity of a thing, with carved lions snarling, claws extended. Books lined the shelves behind it, floor to ceiling filled with expensive looking leather bound tomes.

Vintage framed maps of the world had been mounted on the deep red walls, no doubt originals 'confiscated' from their previous owners. A large globe sat fixed in a ornately carved mount, the orb gleaming in the pale light coming in through the windows.

And behind that monstrosity of a desk, sat a monster in the flesh.

Aaron Hotchner had a reputation that proceeded him far and wide. His unsmiling visage was more often the last thing traitors and other trouble makers saw before being granted the relief that death finally brought.

The man was ruthless, smart and somehow able to inspire unwavering loyalty in his people. He was by no means the biggest crime boss in Chicago but he held unto his mid-level portion of shy-town with an iron fist.

Just how Spencer had come to meet the man face to face was all Garcia's fault. He'd made her a corset for special presentation with her Sub Emily and the woman had been singing his praises ever since.

Finding out that the bubbly, quirky Domme was Terzu Famiglia to Hotchner's Primu, next in command after Rossi's Sicondu, had been an unpleasant surprise. Finding out he'd been summoned before the man known as the Devil of South Shore had been even more of one.

The man in question was writing something into a large ledger, his stern mouth and stern jaw carved of stone. Spencer stood at the centre of the antique Prussian rug where Rossi directed him and waited patiently to be acknowledged. This was no place to demand attention.

Spencer's eyes flickered to the robust young man keeling in attendance at the side of the desk, his eyes averted demurely. He was dressed in soft white pants, his chocolate skin glistening along his bare shoulders and chest. His head was shorn close to his skull and he wore a diamond studded sub collar around his neck. it was a gorgeous piece of art, with a small platinum lock hanging from it, nestled in the dip of his collar bone.

Spencer did not allow his eyes to linger more than a second on the Sub. He didn't want to know what happened to people who angered a Dom like Hotchner by looking at his collared submissive. Instead, he concentrated on the carved front of the man's desk and waited for him to speak.

"Penelope tells me that you are extremely skilled in your craft."

A clear and strident voice brought him from his light musing. Hotchner's eyes were sharp and piercing and Spencer forced himself to hold the man's gaze for a few moments before lowering his eyes.

"I do appreciate her continued patronage."

The man's eyebrow quirked infinitesimally though his expression didn't change. "She also said that you could be trusted."

Spencer didn't know what to say to that so he stayed silent.

The older man sat back in his chair, joining his hands across his taut stomach as he appraised the young man before him. Spencer Reid had come recommended by someone he trusted, someone who done invasive and in depth background and security checks on the man before him before letting him even come near to her treasured sub.

He was young, younger that Aaron had expected, with brown hair slicked back and curling around his shoulders. The dove grey and bone cream bespoke suit spoke to his expertise in his draft; his matching shoes and understated jewelry spoke to his good taste.

He'd almost expected to see a collar on the pretty young man, despite Penelope's assurance that Sub was unattached. Surely some Dom would have snapped a beautiful young thing like him by now.

"I need something custom made for Derek.." Aaron glanced at the sub kneeling comfortably. "There will be a meeting of the Famiglias Maiò very soon and we have been invited to present. I want my submissive dressed to impress the other major familes."

Invited. Tch. More like strongly suggested by the Don of the east coast himself.

Spencer's mind raced, taking leave to study Derek's body with a tailor's eye. Already, designs were blossoming in his mind, intricately embroidered satin panels with delicate boning and custom laces following the long lines of his firm body. He then looked back at serious Dom before him, eyes roaming over him as well.

"Will you be co-ordinating for the presentation?"

This time the dark eyebrow went higher. "I hadn't planned on it. Presentation outfits tend to be a bit … whimsical."

'More like farcical." Rossi mumbled from his chair.

Spencer tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he glanced between both Dom and Sub. "That's mostly because Doms believe that they have to match closely with their Subs and Sub Presentation Fashion has evolved over the decades to highlight sexuality and vulnerability and Dom Fashion does not adapt well to those principles."

Setting down his case, he went down on one knee and looked up at the Dom's permission to open it. At the man's nod, he snapped the clamps open and laid it flat on the rug. Inside were swatches of material as well as other tailoring accouterments.

He plucked out a book of suit material and opened it to a certain page before standing. At Hotchner's nod to approach, Spencer presented the chosen swatch, his hand running over the ebony material.

"I propose a co-ordinating concept instead. You in a black suit, expertly tailored. Black silk shirt with embroidered tie. Patent leather shoes. Platinum accessories. Do you have a set of tools in black and silver? Brushed velvet and leather."

He tucked that book away and plucked another book of swatches, flipping it open to the other side of the spectrum. "For your submissive, supple leather for strength, lace trim for to show a hint of skin. Silk embroidered to match the symbol of your family crest. Imported handmade ribbon lacing the back with suitable placed straps and cut outs in the trousers to give the illusion of being bound."

Rossi hummed with appreciation. "Black and white. Dark and light. Good and evil. Dom and sub. Poetic. I like it."

"You would." Hotchner's lip twitched at the corner, the closest thing to emotion Spencer had seen on him. He forced himself to stay still and be calm as those dark eyes turned their full force to him.

"I like it. You'll stay here while you craft them. We will send someone to get the things you need from your studio. You will cancel all other clients."

It wasn't a question or a request. Still, Spencer wasn’t going to acquiesce so easily. Not even to a Dom who could have him swimming with cement shoes within the hour.

"I'll agree to cancelling my other clients and staying here to complete the work but I will need to source the materials in person. I will not compromise the quality of my work by 'phoning it in' as they say."

Spencer gave a bow of deference, as if he had not just made a demand of the dangerous Dom before him. But his craft was his craft and he would not compromise, no matter the client. He raised his chin subtly, straightening his spine in defiance.

Rossi chuckled behind him. "This one is feisty. No wonder Garcia favours him."

"Indeed. This one has balls." Hotchner's lip gave a small curl, his eyes glinting with interest. "Makes me wonder why some opportunistic Dom hasn't put a collar on him yet."

Sencer kept quiet, accustomed to Doms talking about him as if he wasn't there. There was no use defending or explaining his lack of collar. That was no one's business but his own.

Hotchner finally nodded. "Agreed. You can source your materials in person, under guard of course. after the presentation, you will be taken home and your recompense will be transferred into a bank account set up for you by Penelope."

He turned to Rossi. "Arrange to have his studio set up in the north wing. Bring whatever he needs from his studio. Any fitting sessions will be approved by me. If I'm not available, Garcia can be my stand in."

At that abrupt dismissal, Spencer let himself be escorted out of the room and down a hall to where a brightly dressed Penelope Garcia stood waiting with a sunny smile and clapping hands. Her Sub, Emily Prentiss, was serene at her side in a wine red pants suit, her gun metal grey collar gleaming from the open collar of the shirt.

"Oh my little Duckling, this Is going to be so amazing." The happy blonde squealed, pulling Spencer into a tight hug."I knew that when I recommended you that you and Hotch were going to hit it off right away."

She must have seen the look of disbelief on his face because she scoffed loudly and waved her hand. "Believe me, if the Bossman had been upset with you in any way, we would have been having a different conversation entirely."

With how both Rossi and Prentiss were nodding sagely at the blonde's words, Spencer realized that he was really and truly trapped between a rock and a hard place.

As Penelope tucked her arm around Emily's waist and led them all further down the corridor, talking excitedly about Spencer's stay at the mansion; the true magnitude of the situation finally hit him.

He was basically a prisoner to one of the most powerful crime families in Chicago, kidnapped from his life for god knows how long in the house of a ruthless and dangerous Dom.

All because Penelope Garcia liked his work. He cleared his throat, interrupting the blonde's cherry babbling.

"Speaking of deadlines… when is the presentation exactly?"

"Oh, it's a month and a half from now. Don't worry, you've got plenty of time." Rossi piped up, no doubt trying to be reassuring.

Unfortunately, they had the opposite effect on Spencer. He paled and swallowed heavily, plastering on a polite smile to the people who basically hijacked his entire existence and forcing back the tremor in his voice at the idea of spending the next forty five days trapped in this place.

"Oh… I see. Thank you."

Fuck his life.

Seriously.

Chapter Text

Draco was still having a light breakfast of honey on toast with some strong lavender tea when the news came from the village, brought by a panting and swaying runner.

The youngest Potter had claimed the last great dragon moth and had already been sworn in as its rider.

He carefully set down his cup and traded looks with his mother across the table, both mentally shoring themselves up for the fireworks that were sure to happen when his father eventually found out. Leave it to Potter to claim a legendary steed before Choosing Day had even begun. Now they were never going to hear the end of it.

Viscount Lucius Malfoy's epic feud against Marquis James Potter had been a long fought and bitter one, both men nurturing the embers of black hate for each other in their guts for years on end. Personally, Draco thought that it was all just a waste of time and that both men should just hate fuck and get it out of their systems. He was sure that both Lady Lily and his mother would agree.

He'd just taken up his cup to enjoy the rest of his tea when his father burst into the room, still in his dressing gown, long blond hair wild and uncombed. The man was livid, ranting about favouritism and how Sirius Black should be removed as Steed Master for letting a potential rider in with the steeds before the official Choosing Ceremony and that how he would have the man's job for this.

Draco kept his head down, letting his mother handle her irate husband. Unlike Lucius, he had no aspirations to have been part of the elite War Eclipse. For him, the terror and danger of being a member of the battle corps outweighed the supposed the fame and fortune that came with it.

All Draco wanted to do was fly. Ever since he'd seen his first flight as a very young child. Captivated the brightly coloured and patterned wings of the giant moths as they fluttered in the large clearing below the royal keep. Watching their smartly dressed riders mount and take to the air, kicking up huge buffets of wind as they took to the skies.

One by one he'd seen his friends at the Hogwarts earn their rank as rider and submit themselves for choosing. He'd seen Theodore with his Leaopard Moth with its pure white wings with black ring spots. Pansy with her gorgeous red black and white Cecropia, Blaise with his pure black and daunting Peppered Moth which made him a shoe in for the Silent Scouts.

There had been the excitement when his cousin Luna had been chosen by her name sake, the youngest and smallest of them bonding with the ethereal sea green flyer with a wingspan one and a half of any other steed within the eclipse.

There was also Longbottom with his beautiful blue Long Tail Skipper and Granger with her Giant Tiger Moth and its dappled wings. Weasley the younger had bonded with a stunning Madagascar Moon while Weasley the older had ended up with an insanely furry orange Jewel Dalceridae.

Then of course there was Potter with his new Dragon Moth, which despite being one of the most powerful breeds ever and a formidable fighter, much like the dragon it was named for; looked incredibly dull and ugly with its muted colours and bulky form.

Draco himself, preferred the steed built for long distance flight. He loved the sky and fantasized about keeping to the air for hours on end as he sped towards the horizon, unknown lands unfurling before him.

Seeing his father thoroughly distracted by his mother, Draco shot her a grateful look and quietly excused himself as soon as he was able, slipping away to grab his gear and head down to the Choosing Ceremony.

He rushed to the stable and slipped the reins over his favourite bee, Buzzcut, before slipping out of the building and zooming down towards the great clearing. He'd trained the bee from larva and loved how fast it went, much to his mother's displeasure.

He made great time to the clearing, dismounting and tapping a pattern to the bee's back, commanding it to go back home. Buzzcut nuzzled his side in affection, getting pollen all along his pants before it zoomed off into the distance. He watched it go for a bit, a fond smile on his face, before turning back to the other nervous choosing day hopefuls.

Potter and he were the last of their class to find a bond and there had been talk within the halls of the keep and in the town. Now that Potter had gone and found himself a Dragon, Draco was now the only one from his class left. Most of the other hopefuls were at least two years younger than him and it made him stand out.

Draco wasn't worried thought, today was the day. He knew it.

Sirius Black, Steed Master and husband of Master Trainer Repus Lupin, strode toward the hopefuls and gave a short, curt speech. Gone was the usually gregarious and laughing man they usually knew. In his place was the Master of the Choosing and one would decide their fate today.

Draco trailed to the back of the group, having been to the ceremonies before. It didn't matter if you rushed forward, choosings happened in their own sweet time.

Gasps sounded from the hopefuls as they entered the main stable, a massive copse of trees whose canopy had grown together thick and impenetrable. Moths of varying sizes and colours milled along the forest floor and up the trees.

Draco looked up, marveling at the sunbeams as they shone through the leaves and his heart stopped in his chest. Near the canopy top, wings unfurled to a span of almost forty feet and blazing the colour of fire, sat a Semioptila fulveolans Mabille.

Draco felt a something ripple through him, like the ringing of a clear and beautiful bell. *Hello Gorgeous*, he greeted mentally and was almost blown away by proud response that resounded though his mind. He could feel his eyes tearing up as the Mabille fluttered its giant wings, its two long hind fronds flared. This was a moth built for long flight, strong and agile and beautiful and perfect.

He faintly heard his names being called and he blinked and tore his eyes away from his moth. Because they couldn't be anyone else's but his really. Black was looking between him and the steed in question with a look of resigned defeat.

"First Potter, now you? Does nobody respect the Choosing Ceremony anymore?"

There was a loud thump as the Mabille landed nearby, making both riders and moths alike scamper out of the way. Draco felt a sense of smug satisfaction coming from the steed and sent back a warm push of amazement and awe.

He chuckled as the bond between them bloomed fully as he lay a gentle hand on the fur covered head, pouring all the adoration and love he felt into the bond and getting the same in return.

"I claim you. Mendoshu. " he said softly against the flame coloured fur.

*I claim you. Draconis.*

The voice was warm and clear and he tears up at the affection that was laced through it.

Fuck Potter and his fighting Dragon Moth.

Draco had the sky now. Nothing else could compare.

Chapter Text

It started with an office fire in the warehouse district and way too soon had turned into several blocks of hell on earth. The FDNY were out in droves, trying to keep the blaze contained. The police were quickly evacuating the area and with the Avengers on their way with state of the art Stark Fire Suppression tech, Spiderman had been tasked with helping with the evacuation.

He didn't mind, the sweet tech of his suit wasn't enough to deal with the blazing heat of the flames and he'd already sustained a couple of burns before the local fire chief had ordered him away from ground zero. The friendly neighbourhood hero had saluted the brave fire fighters in their heavy gear and had high tailed it out of there, almost falling off a building when his webbing got too close to the heat.

He'd have to look into making the stuff even more fire resistant.

The billowing black smoke blotted out the night sky, only leaving glimpses of the star filled heavens. He'd swung through the stuff a few times, the filters of his mask working hard against the grit and soot. The police had clued him into their frequency and he'd been working with the sergeant in charge of the evacuation.

He felt really good to be working alongside with the police, ever since he had been inducted as a Junior Avenger. He'd been a bit put out at first, not been seen as an adult, but after a few close calls with sticking his nose into Avenger business and a few 'Come to Jesus' talks with Tony and Steve, he been happy with the restricted duties. Besides, the heroes had made him feel included and welcome in so many other ways.

He was stuck to one of the nearby buildings, watching for any signs of movement when his radio chirped. It was the police sergeant. The Avengers were on site and he wanted Spiderman to do a final sweep of the outlying buildings for any stragglers. He gave a cherry reply and set off on his way.

He caught glimpses of the iron legion, their metallic bodies gleaming in the fire light as they sprayed the flames with fire suppressant. It was slow going, with how much the fire had spread but at least the human fire officers were able to back off from the more dangerous points.

He was absently paying attention to the chatter over the comm. When a loud cracking sound reached his ears and all of a sudden he was falling, his hands and feet scrambling for his webbing. He heard himself yell, the sound cutting off abruptly as he crashed into something hard and unforgiving. His breath rushed out of him in a pained oof, hurt radiating along his spine.

He curled to his side, away from the heat that seemed to surround him. He'd accidentally crashed into one of the burning buildings. Karen's voice rang in his ear as he pushed himself to his knees, urging him to get up and out and reporting that one of the rafters he'd stuck his web too had been rusted through and had given away under his weight.

He was just about to respond to her verbally, coughing against the smoke when a burning pain lanced along his shoulders. A long heavy beam had fallen and was pinning him down. He gave a strangled yell, unable to get his hands under him to push up against the weight. He heard both Karen's and Tony's voices over the comm but couldn't get in enough breath to reply. He coughed harder, the smoke in the room was getting thicker, ash covering the floor and what of his uniform he could see,

The air was searing hot and black smoke and ash clogged the filters of his mask, he could hear Karen calling for him and he tried once again to heave the large beam off his back. The beam creaked and bent a little but wouldn't give, somehow braced against some other metal framework. He grunted, straining fruitlessly against the beam once again, tears forming in his eyes from the acrid smoke.

Suddenly, the beam lifted away, the sound of replusors whining as the metal bent and buckled. Ironman tossed the beam away sending it crashing into the next room. Next thing he knew, he was being held carefully in metal arms as they took off through the large hole he'd made when he'd crashed through the wall.

He coughed as he huddled against the metal chest plate, taking comfort in the hum of the arc reactor. They thudded down unto a nearby roof and his mask was peeled off, the night air cool against his hot and sweaty skin. Tony's voice was calm and comforting as a snick and click sounded from his suit. a molded cup placed over his nose and mouth.

"Relax kid, It's oxygen. Take deep, slow breaths for me okay?"

He pulled in a deep breath, the oxygen cool and sweet to his nose and throat. Tony's face plate snapped up, revealing his concerned face. He blinked up at the man, grasping at the little oxygen tube as Karen activated his suit built in coolant. There was no smoke blocking the sky, they must have been upwind of the fire; and the stars twinkled happily down on him. He glanced back at Tony and curled against the warm chest plate, away from the chill of the wind that had picked up. Arms came up to hold him close and he relaxed into the hold.

"You're gonna be okay Peter. Just keep breathing."

Tony's voice was a comfort and peter let his eyes fall closed as he took another deep and cleansing breath.

Yeah, he was gonna be okay.

Chapter Text

The rain looked pretty against the city's shield, even though they only had it up for a few hours a day. Even with the ZPMs they did have, they couldn't afford to run them down over a bit of rain. Well, not a bit of rain per say but a solid two weeks of steady downpour.

Thankfully they'd had more than a month's warning from the city, when what seemed to be meteorological labs had powered up all by themselves. Seeing that the city hadn't done that kind of thing before, Rodney had made it a top priority and set a crack team of scientists on it immediately.

The geeks had reported back that every twenty eight years, the planets weather systems reached a break point and essentially had a rainstorm to end all rain storms. At that particular set of news, Rodney had exchanged a tired look with Zelenka, both men hissing a selection of soft curses under their breaths.

Then they got to work.

The linguists and translators were redirected to translate everything they could on the storm while the rest of the science division prepared the city for a complete lock down.

The geeks in charge of Hydroponics were in near hysterics that the deluge of rain would upset the pH balance of their gardens but with the extra ZPMs in place, the city had been able to show them how to secure the gardens.

Rodney led the team to open and flush all the water collections and treatment facilities, dedicating one of the ZPMs to the effort. When asked for his reasoning, he explained how not only would concentrating on that area help them with their potable water problems but it would help flush the miles and miles of old systems under the city.

There was also the slight concern that if they didn't have enough proper drainage, the city could become waterlogged and sink under the ocean. And with the shield only having enough power to stay up for a little more than 37 hours continuously , they would all drown before they could solve the problem efficiently.

Shepard had the goons running around the city, battening down the hatches as all the ATA positive pilots shuttled the Athosians and most of their possessions off the main land and though the gate to the alpha site.

Teyla and a few of her people stayed, mostly to stand witness of the storm and tell the tale of its passing to the rest of their people. The Meteorological team, or the Weathermen as they were called amongst the city dwellers, had predicted that the Athosian village would be all but washed off the mainland, the water table expected to rise way above the ground level. The Athosians had been both alarmed and sad at the news but they were Pegasus born so they rolled with it.

Weir had ordered a portion of their supplies to the alpha site as well as some non-essential personnel. They had also sent a message back to earth informing them of the upcoming storm.

The command team had been working almost non-stop, making sure that this storm didn't turn out like the last one. Zelenka had been in charge of making sure all the grounding stations were up and running, installing at least half as much more so that the expected lightning wouldn't harm the city. Rodney had already had plans from to harvest some of the energy and disperse the excess harmlessly out to sea. The approaching storm just brought the timeline up on them that's all.

With all of this going on, Ronon had been left to his own devices. He helped the goons with their grunt work, schlepped stocks and stores with the Athosians. He'd brought coffee to the geeks, especially Rodney who he secured the best snacks and extra MREs for and coaxed him to eat and sleep as the genius worked himself into the ground.

They didn't get to spend much time together during that month, Rodney usually passing out whenever his head hit the pillow. Ronon didn't mind though, his lover and mate was protecting their home. He was working hard to protect their tribe.

Rodney wasn't the typical caregiver/ provider type, turning off most others with his acerbic tongue and intolerance for stupid bullshit. But Ronon wasn't most others. The smart mouthed genius reminded him so much of his mate on Seteda, a real firecracker and fierce warrior.

When he'd lost his whole world and been made a runner, he never thought that he would have that kind of love again. But Rodney Mckay was a man full of surprises and he'd shouldered his way into Ronon's heart in that tactless yet endearing way of his.

They were currently a week into the two week time frame and people were starting to go stir crazy. Hieghtmeyer had instigated a schedule of swapping people out for those at the alpha site as the steady downpour of rain falling from dark grey clouds had proven relentless and oppressive for some and they needed some time under clear blue skies.

Ronon had stayed on the city because Rodney had stayed. The rest of his team had stayed as well, though others came and went. He loved the rain personally. He loved the sound of it on the windows and along the piers. He loved how it looked on the slick grey metal of the city as well as how it blossomed into little yellow florets when it hit the activated shield.

He especially loved the look of it over the ocean from the view of his room. He'd moved his mattress over to the windows, collecting all of his blankets, pillows and cushions in to a giant nest. He'd placed one of the ancient space heaters he'd traded for off planet, and that Rodney had suped up for him, nearby, turning it on. It glowed a soft honey yellow that made the room glow when all the other lights were turned off.

He had a tray of snacks at the ready and reached over to grab his laptop, setting up one of those crackling fireplace background noise tracks wired to the speakers in his room. Rodney had set it up for him, allowing him to immerse himself in some of the beautiful and haunting earth music that reminded him of home.

When John had heard about Ronon's sweet set up, he'd bugged the resident genius to the same for him so that he could enjoy his Jonny Cash in surround sound. Frankly, Ronon thought that Shepard's favourite singer sounded like a frakhorn with its tail cut off.

John had looked offended when he'd told him so, frowning as Teyla choked on her juice. Thankfully, he didn't know exactly was a frakhorn was and why getting its tail cut off was so hilarious but he'd been distracted by Rodney thumping his tray down on the table, snagging all their attention with some crazy close call he'd just skillfully diverted. Teyla had traded a catty look with Ronon and he gave her a quick grin. No one would ever explain it to Shepard if they could help it.

He took one more look at his room, nodding in approval at the set up. He only needed one more thing for everything to be perfect. As if on cue, his door chimed and opened, his mate striding in with one hand to his comm unit and a white knuckled grip around his tablet.

Rodney ground out a terse few words the tossed his comm unit across the room with s snarl. His tablet got flung unto the thin padded frame of Ronon's bunk and he walked straight into his lover's arms without breaking stride. Ronon grunted as he braced for impact, wrapping his arms around the other man as Rodney smushed his face into Ronon's massive pecks.

"Everyone on this god forsaken city can go take a long walk off the shortest pier." The genius mumbled against his mate's chest. "If one more person complains about some unimportant piece of tripe while I'm trying not to let this city sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, I'm going to beach the city on the mainland and see how they like living on a mudflat."

Ronon chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down his lover's broad back, trailing a line of soft, open mouthed kisses down Rodney's cheek, jaw until he claimed that pouting mouth.

"Come on… You're overdue for your downtime. Zelenka and Biro will cover for you for the next 24 hours straight. I have something for you that will make you forget all of those assholes."

He bundled Rodney into the shower, sucking him off and fingering him until the man was lax and pliant against him. Drying him off tenderly, he brought the man to the nest and watched as his expression softened at the sight.

They ate the snacks and drank the sweet mulled wine that the Athosians made, soft fleece blankets and furs wrapped around their naked shoulders.

Once he had his lover warm, dry and sated, he lifted his lover by the hips and lowered him inch by inch unto his hard cock. Rodney keened against him, grasping at his shoulders and back as they were so intimately joined. With the steady pour of the rain outside their windows, the warmth of the heater, the soft touch of the nest and the wet, sucking heat of Rodney around him, Ronon knew true happiness.

He rolled them over, laying his mate gently unto the piled furs as he continued to rock into him, swallowing the soft sighs and whimpers that fell from his lover's lips. Maybe one day Rodney would allow Ronon to pup him. They were sure to make beautiful, smart and strong babies.

Rodney wasn't ready for that, maybe he never would be. Ronon would never push. Bringing new life to Pegasus was a hard decision, one to be made by the bearer in the end. But if they did had children, born to them both and raised on Atlantis with Rodney's brains and Ronon's strength; he knew in his heart of hearts that they would be survivors.

But that was talk for the future. In this moment he had a different goal. Working Rodney's body and pulling pleasure from him until he was boneless, blissed out and at peace within his ever turning brain. As his lover shuddered through what would be the first of many orgasms that night, Ronon could swear he could hear Rodney's comm bleating weakly.

He ignored it, rocking into his mate as he chased his own release. Zelenka and Biro could surely handle whatever problem had cropped up. Whoever was calling would soon get tired of trying to get Rodney and call one of the other two.

And if they didn't and came knocking on his door, looking to disturb his lover's well deserved rest before his 24 hours were over? Well, he'd make sure that they understood just how stupid of an idea that was.

Outside, the rain poured on.

Chapter Text

He'd ended up becoming the Witch of the Woods the summer of his fourteenth year, just before the leaves turned and the wind got cold. The old woman he'd been apprenticed too had disappeared one day into the deep shadows of the old woods and had left him alone.

He was fine though, having lived with her in their little crooked cottage with its wild garden and crooked fence since he was ten. It hadn't always been his dream to be the Witch of the Woods but life was what happened when you were making other plans.

His father had been a carpenter and his mother a seamstress, both taken too soon by influenza; leaving him alone and without prospects. No one had wanted the lanky, sallow faced boy with long stringy black hair which hung about his pointy chinned face.

He'd faced starvation amongst the so called good people of the village, his father's house and business taken over by ever so helpful distant family relatives.

With nothing left to lose, he'd walked into the forest with a jug of fresh milk and hand full of dried gladiolus, looking to either get entranced by the fae, lured to shadow by the goblin men or eaten by wolves.

Luckily or unluckily so, he'd come across the little crooked house with its little crooked fence and overgrown garden. With its seven cats of various colours and temperaments. With its bundles of dried herbs and flowers and giant clay pots of mysterious preserves.

He waited a month for the old woman to return, going through the motions of collecting swamp toad bile, harvesting the young bulb root of the myrtle blossom and curating the large collection of jars and bottles that she demanded by kept clean and organized.

That winter, when the villagers came to trade cured meat and fresh bread for potions and liniments for their ill, he'd negotiated shrewdly just as she'd taught him too.

By the next spring, people were accustomed to dealing with him and he'd already visited several homesteads to diagnose and treat several ailments. One farmer had thanked him as the Witch of the Woods as he was making his leave and from then on the title had landed on his shoulders just like that.

He visited his parents' graves the next day, laying a bundle of dried wild roses and sprigs of dried myrrh and meadowsweet. He would not visit them again. The boy who was their son was gone, leaving only the Witch.

He kept the cottage tidy. Took care of the cats as he learned learned their moods. He harvested from the overgrown gardens and took gifts of milk, sweet honey, fresh flowers and juicy, fat grubs to the creatures of the great forest. Renewing old truces with the beings that lived in the mist and the magic of such old growth.

He cares for his little crooked broom, the staff he cut himself from a strong sapling; the bristles harvested by moon light and re-twisted every day. He rubbed it with flax oil and tightened the weave of the bindings every fortnight.

With enough patience and belief, he would take to the skies for the first time on the samhain night, with his long black cloak and his crooked hat; flying above the tree tops with the owls and other night birds as was a Witch's Rite of Passage.

He met a young red haired woman called Lily in the woods one day, so far from the wild haired little girl who used to make mud pies with him in old man Alberforth's field. She was as beautiful and headstrong as ever, seeking him out for conversations about things totally different from what girl's her age usually filled their minds with.

He let her help him gather herbs and taught her the secret paths through the thickest and darkest of the woods. She was a friend and he cherished their warmth and closeness.

She came to him crying one day. Her marriage had been arranged to a horrid boy with horrid, cruel friends. He took her into the crooked little cottage and sat her down, making her tea as cats crawled into her lap.

James Potter and Sirius Black were sons of Lords and spoiled rotten, glutted on the fruits of other's labour and Lily was utterly distraught at the prospect of being his wife and the mother of his children.

They hatched a plan to get her away from her awful fate, recruiting the help of a young werewolf boy named Remus to spirit Lily away to the north, through the deepest woods and into the kingdom of Nimue where she could be welcomed and cared for. They bade each other a tearful goodbye and he watched them disappear into the trees.

Potter ranted and raged while Black glared darkly from under a pitch black fringe. The village elders wouldn't allow either boy to bring harm to the Witch of the Wood but the duo proved clever and made his life miserable in other ways.

Small things like chase his cats and stone his windows. Set gophers and rabbits in his garden to damage the delicate plants and roots. They stoned his old clay jars, spoiling the decades old ointments and treatments inside. They broke his broom and scattered the bristles into the stream. They poisoned his goats and soured their milk, poured boiling water on his beehives and crushed the soft, sticky honey combs under their thick boots.

He was sitting in his ruined garden, crying unto his withered flowers when the werewolf boy, Remus, found him. The young man smiled at him, gently wiped his tears away and took his hand.

That night the little crooked house burned, with its little crooked fence and overgrown garden. The bottles of herbs and dried flowers cracked and melted, the old clay pots crumbled. The broken broom stick crackled and turned to ash while the black cloak and crooked little hat shriveled.

The Witch of the Wood watched the blaze from the trees, the warm strong arms of the werewolf boy, Remus, keeping him steady as his life burned.

He spoke his human name for the first time in years, leaving his title behind in the ashes of the past.

Severus, he whispered to the wind. The wolf boy smiled and kissed him on the mouth, taking him by the hand and tugging him into the deep shadow of the great forest.

No one in the village ever saw the Witch again.

Chapter Text

There was a spiral notebook rolled up and tucked into the frame of her bed. It had been one of the millions her brother always bought, used a few pages of then tossed aside. She'd had to rip two pages of his weird sketches and poetry out of this one but it was still serviceable. It seemed fitting to use it, with its Lisa Frankeque riot of colours and glitter on the cover. It served its purpose well under the circumstances.

She'd filled up most of the pages with notes and sketches, writing and crossing out and writing and scratching and ripping out what she'd didn't want, didn't need.

On the back cover she wrote out her list. The plan laid out step by step. She'd memorized it. Knew it top to bottom to top again. Studied it until she could see it when she closed her eyes. Tonight was the night. She was ready. She had it down. It had to be tonight.

She sat on her bed, naked and damp from the shower, knee pulled up as she carefully painted her nails. The polish was borrowed, a holo silver aptly named unicorn blood and it gleamed as she wiggled her toes.

She examined her toes appreciatively and carefully corked the polish bottle back, slipping it into her small bucket of nail care things. She herself had only two bottles of her own, pale blush pink and clear top coat, much to her brother's dismay. He, on the other hand, had over thirty shades lined up neatly on his dresser in their little glass bottles , his fingers and toes never the same colour two days in a row.

She pulled her frizzy hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, wrapping it tight and securing it with a black band. She slipped a clack stocking over the bun to keep it neat. Her black dance leotard went on next, no underwear as the shapewear kept her secure. It covered her from neck to ankle but she rolled up the legs and arms, pulling the neck until it rode low.

Over that when the pretty green sweater dress that she'd gotten for her birthday. It fell to her knees and looked lovely with the matching tartan scarf. She shoved her feet into the clunky boots she wasn't often seen without, much to her fashion forward family's frustration.

She reached into her closet, feeling along the top of the inside door frame for a zip lock bag she'd taped there. Inside were a half dozen zip ties, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a pair of latex gloves, an ice pick and a shiv she'd learned how to make off the internet from a tooth brush, saran wrap and a lighter. She also had said lighter.

They all went into her tote bag, along with a bottle of water, a granola bar and her overdue library books. She stomped down the stairs, stopping at a closed door.

"Auntie, I'm heading to the library. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay darling," came the muffled reply. "Visiting hours are at four. Don't forget."

She nodded at the closed door. "Kay." then let herself out through the front.

It was a ten minute bus ride to the library and she greeted the Matron with a soft smile. She accepted compliments on her dress and belated birthday wishes from the staff and turned over her books before heading to the private nook she always made a beeline for.

This time though, after a quick look around, she ducked into the janitor's closet; shucking her tote bag and yanking off her scarf. Her dress followed, along with her clunky boots.

She slipped on those cheap foldable five dollar flats and pulled the legs and the sleeves of the leotard down passed her heels and knuckles. The latex gloves went on and the hairnet was pulled up to cover her hair.

She dug into the pocket of the tote and pulled out a foundation compact. It felt like she was putting it on with a butter knife but the darkening effect was passable at a glance. She looked at least three shades darker and she pulled out her phone and checked facebook for a final comparison.

Satisfied, she tucked the make-up away and stowed her bag behind some storage bins in the small room. The window was easy to prop open and she stepped down unto one of the large dumpster bins that stood right outside.

The house was few minutes run away, through the wooded park behind the library, all the way to the more affluent neighborhood of Fern Parkway. There was a trellis under the bedroom window, just as had been boasted in the halls at school. The window wasn't even locked so she slipped in and checked for any occupants.

She'd made sure that he wouldn't be home, stealing Cindy Wazouwski's phone during chemistry class and texting him to come meet her for a hook up at a motel two hours away.

She'd sent him a carefully cropped picture of random internet boobs and extracted a promise of discretions which he was all too willing to agree too and wiped the texts right after with a neat little trick her brother had taught her. The phone was back in Cindy's purse before the girl even knew it was gone. It was almost as easy as breaking into his gym locker and cloning his cell phone while he was in basketball practice.

After checking the room, she went straight for the closet, pulling out the crushed velvet, burgundy track suit with watching custom, burgundy adidas kicks. They were baggy on her but that's how they were supposed to look. She pulled a black beanie over her head and ears, tipping a burgundy NYC ball cap over that.

She slipped out of the house and into the garage, thumbing the door opener as she slid into his convertible and raised the roof. The windows were tinted dark and she grabbed his shades from the sun visor and slipped them one.

The ride was a short one, her back aching from the laid back slump she'd been forced to mimic. She'd passed through enough of the town for the car to be seen, recognized and remembered so she made her way to her final destination.

The shiny black Lincoln town car was parked where it always was, parked in front of the Lucky Strike Car and Casino. She watched it for a while from two blocks away, checking the walking traffic on the empty side street and slumping down when a police car when by.

With one last glance up and down the street, she put the car in drive and stepped on the gas, aiming for the town car. A block away she opened the door and rolled out onto the street, scrabbling to her feet and ducking off into the alley; leaving the convertible to careen into the luxury vehicle with a spectacular crunch of metal and glass.

Heart racing, she went on to the next step of her plan without as much as a pause for breath. Palming the shiv and tucking the handle into her overlarge sleeve, she made her way towards the row of poorer town houses across bus route 6.

She slowed to a walk, keeping her cap low and imitating a swagger as she made her way to the sixth house. The doorbell was loud and jarring but she kept her finger on it until it slammed open, a cloud of marijuana smoke billowing out in a giant plume.

A skinny, bald man in pants hung low snarled at her, his numerous prison tattoos stark against his pale skin. He voice was rough like gravel but she couldn't hear a word he was saying because her blood was rushing in her ears so loud.

She'd spent hours on the weird side of you tube, hours more in the library, pouring through anatomy books learning how to do what she was going to do next. There were parts of the human body that one could puncture with a bladed weapon so that no damage would be done to the internal organs. One would bleed profusely, of course, and initially show as being severely injured but a full recovery with prompt medical help was assured.

The sound of a prison shiv entering flesh was like cutting into a ripe watermelon and the man fell back against the hallway with a choked off cry, holding his hands against the wounds in his chest.

She ducked passed him into the living room, checking for others and thankfully finding none. This was the part of her plan that had been the most wobbly. There was a packed brick of weed on the coffee table and she grabbed it, making her way out through the backdoor and over the rickety fence.

According to google maps, the route back to the first house cut through the warehouse district and across the large dry canal. She'd timed it before, running a similar length on the school track and around the neighbourhood a few times to build stamina.

She panted as she dumped most of the weed into the drainage tunnel off the canal, making sure to stuff some into her pockets and on the shoes, squeezing the oil into the crushed burgundy velvet and matching hat. All that running made it harder to climb the trellis but she made good time, stripping and stuffing the outfit to the back of the closet and shoving the bloody shiv behind the toilet tank.

Getting back into the library was quick and she peeled off the gloves and let them fall into a mop bucket with some bleach. The zip lock bag and its contents had already made a home in the dumpster out back. Some make up wipes taken from her aunt's bathroom took care of her face full of foundation. Rolling up the arms and legs of the tights, she slipped on the dress and scarf and pulled off the stocking cap; stuffing it into her bag.

The flats went into her tote and she shoved her feet into the clunky shoes, running a hand through her wild hair. She smiled and made small talk with the library matron as she checked out her books, apologizing for keeping the other for so long. The bus ride home was a quiet one and she just breathed as the scenery went by.

Her brother awoke to her hand holding his and he smiled through his spilt lip, the heart monitor beeping softly in the background.

"Hey, you're wearing unicorn's blood. It looks so good on you."

"You're always gushing about so I decided to give it a try." She ducked her head with a smile, her hand careful of the wires and tubes as she twisted her hand to show off the holo effect. "I kinda like it."

He huffed weakly gave her a discerning look. "You just like it because of Voldemort don't you? You're so morbid, Chelle."

She shrugged, not denying it, and he gave a weak chuckle which quickly turned into a cough. She retreated to the corner of the room as nurses rushed in, hugging her arms around herself and feeling cold as she watched him cough spots of blood.

Aunt May came in and guided her from the room to where Ned was sitting, his normally jovial face pale and worried. She let her adopted Aunt guide her to the seat next to him and sat on her other side. It was a cold comfort because Peter was always the one who knew just what to say so bring her spirits up.

Now he was laid in a hospital bed, fighting to get better all because some high school bully decided that he was just too flamboyantly gay to be allowed. Flash may not have thrown a punch or a kick himself but he'd encouraged others to act against her brother in all but blood.

To hear him brag in that halls about Peter's injuries, about how he'd cried out for help and how they'd taken turns in kicking him had made her blood boil. The attackers had been arrested but the DA hadn't been able to make the case against Flash stick, especially with his father's bevy of lawyers. There'd been no solid proof of his involvement, just the testimony of dubious characters paid to stay silent.

The day he'd swaggered back into school, baldly talking about "Penis Parker" getting what he'd deserved, the plan had been birthed in her mind. After that it was simple cause and effect. Turn the tables and let the universe take care of the rest.

With the Kingpin's car totaled by Flash's convertible and his personal drug dealer stabbed and robbed, there would be nowhere that Flash could hide. Not even his daddy's lawyers could protect him from him getting what he deserved.

She hid a small smile behind her hair, taking comfort in Aunt may's and Ned's voices as they talked beside her. Oh to be a fly on the wall when Flash came back into town, horny as hell, pissed at being stood up and rearing for a fight. He was sure to get much more than he bargained for.

As Peter liked to tease her as he gently braided her frizzy hair for school, trying to build up both their spirits to face another day in the hell that was high school. "You always gotta look out for the quiet ones. They are always the bigger threat. Still waters run pretty deep."

Her smile turned into a sly little grin behind her fringe.

"You ain't wrong, baby brother. You ain't wrong."

She'd burn the little spiral note book when she got home.

Chapter Text

Kiba kicked at the dirt road as he walked, hands in his pockets as he slouched within his jounin jacket. Akamaru was just a bit ahead, sniffing at bushes and generally being a dog. It wasn't often that his nin companion got to just fuck around so Kiba liked to cut him some slack every so often.

The last year had been hectic with him being away on missions for ten months out of twelve, coming back to his rooms at the Inuzuka Compound to eat his weight in his mother's cooking and sleep for a week before Tsunade sent him out for another mob outside of Kohona's walls.

He scratched absently at his red triangular cheek mark, nodding at another clan member as they sped by. The street was all but deserted, leading deeper into the woods that Kohonagakure was famous for. Amakamaru turned and wuffed softly before he slipped into the tree line, disappearing from view. Kiba didn't rush to follow, knowing full well where his partner was going.

He'd been back in the Village Hidden in the Leaves for two days already, and had slept for a full twenty hours before feeling human enough again to face other humans. The last mission had been rough. He'd been partnered with Hinata from his old team and an older special Jounin, sent on a special mission to track and kill a missing nin with a high rank in the latest Bingo Book.

it had been a hard, messy and miserable job and he'd had to drag the half dead jounin back to Kohona with Hinata limping along side, all of them utterly exhausted and disgusted. He'd been the only capable of briefing the Hokage, with both his teammates having been sent off to the hospital. Tsunade had been stoned faced during the meeting but at least the job had been successful.

Training ground sixteen looked the way it usually did, a small, grassy clearing surrounded by the ever present towering trees. Under the shade of one such tree Akamaru lay, gnawing on a fallen branch; his tail whapping happily on the ground. A familiar slim figure lay next to him, hands behind their head as they stared up into the bright blue sky.

"Shika." he murmured when he got near enough, dropping unceremoniously to the ground and rolling over to tuck himself against the man's side. He settled his cheek against the Nara's shoulder, rubbing his sensitive nose into the thin material of the man's vest, and took a deep breath.

Shikamaru smelt like ink, grass and sweat, no doubt having just gotten off his shift at Hokage Tower and spent some time training. He smelt like barbeque where he'd likely had lunch with Choji. He smelt like Ino's flowers and kunai polish. He smelled like the warmth of the sun and the cold of his famous shadows.

Slim fingers gently ruffled his hair and a kiss was pressed against his brow.

"I heard you practically had to drag your team through the gate. Troublesome."

"Yeah. That mission was fucked." Kiba bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. "But we came home and I have two days down time to my name so I'd call it a win. Besides, Hinata's got Neji to mother hen over her and the medic-nins have Matamoro on the really good drugs so he's better than fine."

Shikamaru huffed and tugged gently on Kiba's wild hair. "I also happen to have a couple of days off. Tsunade kicked me out of the tower and told me not to come back until next week. How utterly strange and coincidental."

"Why would she even do that?" Kiba perked his head up to look at his lover. They hadn't been able to spend more than a night of down times together for more than six months, their lives were so hectic. "Wait… you don't think?"

Shikamaru sighed at the sky and frowned. "I think that Naruto is finally coming back."

Kiba blinked in shock and let his head thump back unto Shika's chest, making the other man grunt softly. Naru had been gone for over a year. Close to fifteen months the blond been on the road with the Toad sage, learning and training. Fourteen months, eight days, two hours since the three of them had spent that last night together, kissing farewell as Naruto had to be at the gate waiting for his mentor before the sun even rose.

Kiba had missed him something fierce, throwing himself into work and his clan to smother the pain of being apart. He loved Shika and he knew the shadow nin loved him but there was something missing from them both because their third wasn't there.

It had started as sex, soon after they'd turned chunin, stress relief with people not their own team mates. Shika's team was too close, Kiba's team had been scattered to the winds on solo missions and Naruto's team…. well, Naruto's team was a fucking disaster.

Kiba had started it, stepping close to the blond boy to smell him, moving closer when Naru had turned those sad and lonely blue eyes to him and whined. Kiba had taken him home and cuddled him in blankets, waking up the next morning with half the nin-dogs in their bed and the blonde smelling like pack and happiness.

They'd fucked everywhere after that, Naru letting Kiba rub his scent all over him whenever he wanted, pulling out and spilling his seed all over that perfect tanned skin. Kiba was hungry for the man and Naruto loved being desired. The blond would sling himself over Kiba's shoulders when they talked or curl up in his lap, rubbing his scarred cheeks against bare skin.

He also craved Kiba's hands on him, loved the scrape of his teeth and the soothing rough of his tongue as they trailed along the quickly fading red marks. When they were not training or heading out on missions, they spent together in Naruto's shitty apartment or in Kiba's rooms at the compound.

Shikamaru fell into things quite easily. Naruto had walked up to the Jounin in a deserted alley just off the Hokage Tower and pressed him against the wall, kissing him deeply until they were both moaning. Kiba had watched from his perch on fence nearby, grinning as the taller nin had blushed red at having been kissed so enthusiastically.

Shika had just muttered. "Troublesome." and had let Naruto lead him back to that shitty apartment; Kiba following along having sent Akamaru on his own way.

The shadow user balanced them out, bringing a sense of calm and peace to the savage brashness both Naru and Kiba had way too much of. Their love making changed, losing that sense of urgency and taking on a deeper, more emotional meaning. Shika had worshipped them, kept them on the edge of ecstasy and taught them a few tricks that completely blew their minds; among other things.

They started spending more time together after that, carving out of what little free time the had. Shika and Kiba helped Naru find and move into a better place, a little house out in the woods where they could have privacy. The cottage was cute and quaint and Naruto had gone a bit gooey when he'd come home to see most of his friends at the surprise house warming party they'd thrown him.

The blond had thanked them both voraciously that night when everyone else had gone home, almost breaking the new bed they'd all bought and helped put together the day before.

His mission with the Sannin Jiraiya had come down just as they were starting to get comfortable and it had been hard to see someone so important to them say good bye. That was a ninja's life though, fleeting and dangerous. They'd spent that last night together, burning their passion into their memories because who knew who long it would be until they all met again, if they even would.

Since then Kiba had ached with a phantom pain and always stopped by the little house to cuddle up with something of the blond's, desperate for that familiar scent. The small parcel of land abutted the Nara property so Shika kept the garden neat and saw that the house was kept in order. It was not odd to see Nara deer leaning over the little fence to munch on the flowers that Ino had helped plant.

To hear that Naruto may be coming back to the village made a warm hope balloon in his chest and he twisted against his lover's side to stare up a the fluffy white clouds. The sky was as blue as Naruto's eyes and he could just picture the blond smiling widely at him.

Even though Tsunade hadn't said anything outright, Shika was usually correct in his interpretations. And if he was, that meant Naruto was going to be back and in his arms sometime within the next two days. Kiba closed his eyes and inhaled, letting the scent of sweet grass, the musk of his lover, the smell of sweaty dog and the iron of lost and broken weapons fill his senses until restful sleep came.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Barely a second after Akamaru gave an excited yip, Kiba had his arms full of blonde ninja. Naruto tasted like ramen and smelt like dirt, sweat and the embers of a low fire. Under that was the heady scent of power that Kiba recognized as the Kyuubi and the old ink of the Fourth Hokage's seal.

Kiba growled into his kiss, his arms going tight around his returned lover; reveling in the taste of his mouth, the feel of his sun warmed and sweaty skin, the soft silk of his blonde hair. Naruto giggled into the kiss, licking into his mouth and running his tongue against the dog ninja's sharp incisors.

Kiba groaned at the tastes of ki rich blood across his tongue, growing hard in his pants as he sucked on the blond's kiss swollen bottom lip. A splash of freezing cold water had them shrieking and jumping apart to see Hana with her hands still in a water seal.

"Get a fucking room you two, you're stinking up the place and driving the dogs wild."

Kiba had shaken the water off like one of the clan dogs and grabbed the blond's hand with a grin, both taking off to the rooftops as the ninken howled behind them. Shika was easy to find at his usual cloud watching place and Kiba laughed as Naruto tackled him bodily, sending both of them tumbling.

Shika had tried to mumble about how troublesome they both were but he was too busy rolling the blond on to his back and kissing him breathless; his shadows quivering wildly in the dense trees.

They don't even make it to the little house, falling together in a small patch of soft grass within a copse of trees near the back of the cottage. They didn't talk about missions or gossip about the goings on in Kohona and beyond. Their communication was non-verbal, touch and taste and sight and smell.

Kiba nosed his way down the blond's body, sucking and licking at the points that make his lover gasp and cry out. Naru's scent had changed from his time on the road. That milky sweet of youth had sharpened into a spicy richness that made the back of his mouth water. The kyuubi was closer to the surface, a smokey heat that mixed with the blond's sunlight and citrus.

They doted on the man, worshiping his body until he was aching and near tears from the pleasure. Hands and lips and tongues mapped his body, learning all new spots and re-learning the old ones. He watched with rapt attention as Shika lubed up his long fingers and worked them into Naruto's clenching pink hole; the blond arching into the burn as he was carefully stretched.

He teased his lover's nipples, sucking and biting gently on the pebbled nubs as his hand gripped the base of the blond's leaking cock. His kissed the other man hard, working his fist on the throbbing member as Shika curled his long fingers just so. Naruto came with a wail, his body all but leaving the ground as he came over Kiba's hand and his own stomach.

They didn't give any time to recover as the demon fox's ki made the blond's recovery time incredibly short. With Shika's cool hand on his hip and a soft press of a kiss against his sweat slick shoulder, Kiba slid into Naruto's tight, wet heat with a broken groan. Thick corded legs came up around his waist as he pressed in to the hilt, that perfect ass quivering around his length. Kami, he'd missed this so keenly. He snapped his hips forward ruthlessly, grunting deeply as he worked his cock into that mind stealing heat.

Shika shifted, guiding his cock to the blond's open and panting mouth. Naruto was too happy to suck on the engorged organ, licking the leaking and swollen mushroom head before taking more of the veined shaft. Kiba let his hands roam, petting and stoking that sun gold skin as both men worked their cocks deeper. He pulled Shika close and claimed his mouth, making them both moan as they rocked into the blond from both ends.

Naruto placed one hand on Kiba's thigh, his other hand threaded through with Shika's as he swallowed heavily around the cock in his mouth while clenching around the one in his ass. Kiba growled, utterly enthralled by the sight of those round ass cheeks jumping at every thrust, Naruto's thick red cock bobbing and leaking against his taut stomach.

The blonde made a needy sound and froze, toes curling and moaning as he came a second time, long spurts of come splashing across his stomach, Shika and the soft grass. Kiba fucked him through the orgasm, never slowing his pace or strength because he knew that Naru liked it that way. Shika came with a grunt soon after, one hand grasping the blond's throat gently as he swallowed around the throbbing cock.

Naru looked completely blissed out, smiling lazily as covered with come as he looked at them both. His eyes were warm with such love and affection that Kiba couldn't help but lean down and kiss him hard, his hips stuttering as he too fell into ecstasy. Naru tasted like Shika and smelled like them both, switching some trigger deep inside Kiba's chest and releasing the last of the cold stone-like tension that had been tucked there for the past year.

He fucked lazily into the blond a few more times, enjoying the tremors of pleasure as his half hard cock pressed against all the slick quivering places deep inside the blond. he rolled to the side as he slipped out, pulling a boneless Naru with him as Shika laid himself along the blond's back, tucking him between them both.

Naru made an adorable sleepy sound and snuggled deeper, snuffling softly into Kiba's shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut. Kiba traded fond looks with Shika over the tanned shoulder and smirked as the other man pressed a fond kiss against said shoulder. Naruto just murmured sleepily and threw a leg over Kiba's, his hand seeking Shika's and pulling it to his taut stomach.

The Nara propped his head on one hand and shook it. "We'll get stuck together if we stay like this. Troublesome."

Kiba chuckled and let his head fall against the soft grass, looking up at the cloudless blue sky through the treetops. He felt trouble free and more content than a runt in a puppy pile.

"I can live with that."

Chapter Text

"No."

The word echoed through the tense silence.

Nick Fury's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "No?"

Behind him, Coulson stiffened, hands clenching briefly before relaxing as if by force. Tony sat back in his office chair, his face blank and emotionless.

"You heard me. No." his fingers flew across the laser keyboard beneath the dark, smoked glass of his executive desk. "And don't try threaten to sic Agent Agent with his handy taser on me. It's not going to change my mind."

The man in question frowned, glancing at his boss before staring disapprovingly as Tony once more. Nick sat back with a smug disbelief, arm slung over the back of his chair.

"This is just you playing hard ball. Come on, I know you Stark. You care too much about your people to let this get out. You may throw a tantrum now but we've got you in a corner and there's only one way out."

"Oh, you know me do you Nicky?" Tony's fingers paused in his typing as he looked up at them through his fringe of hair, before he started typing once more. "You know me so well that you come in to my building, my office and try to blackmail me into doing what you want?"

He huffed a disgusted little laugh. "You think you can come in here and make me jump through whatever hoops you hold up on any given day. That you can dangle your 'greater good' in front of little Anthony Stark and I'll do all of the heavy listing."

He finished typing and waved away the keyboard, glancing at the small confirmation icon that all the messages and instructions had been sent.

Pepper would be getting the priority message right now, JARVIS would be implementing the rest with inhuman speed. Both Rhodey and Happy would be getting emails, giving them a heads up before the shit storm that was coming.

SI would weather the storm alright, just a drop in stock prices but nothing that they hadn't ridden out and recovered from before. They had enough of his plans and tech in the archives that would carry them for the next ten years.

His personal finances would take a big hit and he already had JARVIS liquefying a few of his superfluous assets. It's not like he hadn't taken losses before. He was more than just his bank account.

Fury sat forward. "You of all people know how important it is to swallow your pride and do what's right. Especially in times like these. We need you on this."

Tony tolled his eyes. "You need my tech on this. And you wouldn't mind one bit if you got it for free or good as. And don't you lecture me on what's right, Cyclops, or you wouldn't have come at me with extortion right off the bat."

"We had to show you how serious this is." the other man grunted. "We don't have time for your usual drama queen hysterics."

Tony hummed and looked out of his picture window at the city skyline beyond. There was so much that he could sat to that, so many smart comments and sarcastic comebacks. But he was so tired of the bullshit. So tired of keeping everything in sight and juggling all these knives and burning torches. Just one mistake. One slip of the hand or concentration and he would be in for a world of pain.

He so fucking tired and didn't want to do this anymore. Any of it. He was stepping back and letting the chips fall where they may.

He looked back at the two Shield Agents as the phone in his pocket chimed a specific pattern. He gave them a placid smile.

"No still means no, gentlemen, so if you could see yourselves out of my building and out of my life before I call security that would be awesome."

"SHEILD doesn't bluff about things like this." Fury gave him a narrow glare before shaking his head in over acted disappointment and pushing himself out of the chair. "You are going to regret this Stark."

Tony's smile widened like a sharks, making both men flinch back. "Not as much as you will Nicky. Not as much as you will."

He watched them walk out and slumped back in his chair, closing his eyes to everything for one peaceful moment.

By now the media packages he'd had prepped for years had been delivered to almost every news outlet in the world. Within minutes, everyone would have all the gritty details and the whole rotten egg would be cracked wide open.

The next weeks wouldn't be easy, even with the tendency for people to jump to the next scandal. News involving Tony Stark always had staying power amongst the masses and this one had a lot of meat to rip into.

He could shoulder it though. It was what he'd always done. He'd step away from SI for a while, letting Pepper and Happy circle the wagons and protect the company.

Life as he knew it was going to change.

And surprisingly enough, it felt oddly freeing.

Chapter Text

Stiles' skin was luminous in the moonlight. The moles that dotted his face and neck continued down his shoulders and back like stars. Derek liked to gently trace patterns between them with his fingertips, like the constellations. He would follow along with his tongue afterwards, making his lover squirm and writhe on the bed.

He kissed around the fresh bandage stuck along Stiles' flank, tentative fingertips gliding along the edge of the rough gauze. He whined a little at the scent of blood and Stiles grunted and ran fingers through Derek's hair comfortingly.

"I'm fine. Grumpy wolf. It's just a scratch."

Derek nosed his way up his lover's spine before tucking himself along the younger man's back. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. His mind ran on the scene earlier today when Stiles had gone left instead of right, trying to protect Scott.

The crooked jawed wolf had abandoned the plan they'd meticulously gone over several times before leaving the loft, concentrating too much on Allison and not enough on his own part.

By the time he'd stumbled over to her position, she'd already recovered expertly and was unto the next part of the plan; leaving him out of place and open to attack.

Stiles had thought quickly, yelling quick instructions over the battlefield and had gone to help his brother from another mother.

He'd ended up hurt and bleeding while Scott had been sheepishly sorry. Derek had bitten the inside of his mouth to bleeding to keep from roaring at the witless wolf.

Thankfully Lydia, Erica and Allison had read him the riot act about his idiotic and chauvinistic actions before Derek had given into his wolf nature and skinned a strip off of Scott's hide for putting Stiles in danger.

At least the enemy had all been dealt with and Stile allowed Derek to take him back to the loft to get him cleaned up, bandaged and tucked into bed.

"Hey, are you doing the glowing red alpha glare behind me?" a boney elbow in his gut brought him back to the moment.

"No." Derek growled low, willing the red from his eyes and he tucked his face into Stile's neck. His lover scoffed. He knew him way too well.

"I'm fine. And I'm home and safe. Go to sleep Growly wolf. We have a big day tomorrow."

Derek hummed and let his leg slip between Stiles', his hand resting on his lover's bare stomach and draining some of the lingering pain away.

"Yeah? What are we doing tomorrow Brain?"

Stiles barked a sharp laugh. "Well, Pinky. Tomorrow were going to throw Scotty to the proverbial wolves. I'm talking Lydia, Erica and Allison. Scotty responds better to female authority and he needs to get his head out of his ass ASAP if he wants to be part of his pack."

"You think including Allison will be to his benefit?"

The smaller man shrugged gently. "He needs to learn that she can take care of herself. He leapt to her rescue today even though we all knew that she could handle it. He put us all at risk because he can't help but focus on her before anything else."

He let out a deep breath. It's frustrating as hell but I can't think of anything else that can knock some sense into him. I love Scotty but a road scholar he isn't."

Derek started to purr, something that always calmed Stiles when he was getting himself worked up. He hated to call it purring but there wasn't really any other word for it.

Stiles went boneless in his arms and he smiled in smug satisfaction. He continued until he felt Stiles' breath even out before letting himself fall into sleep.

Stiles was alive, safe and in his arms. He was happy. His wolf was happy. The pale moonlight painted the room stunning silver.

He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

The huge iron wrought gate was ancient and curled with thick vines, obscuring the lawn beyond. In the distance of the vast estate, the huge house stood, shrouded in a thick white mist that curled along the old world spires and carved gothic stone work. The setting sun had lit the mist a pale orange that looked like a distant fire, in complete opposite to the mid-afternoon chill.

Ewan pursed his lips at the sight, peering through the half frosted glass of Candy's 1970s porridge coloured, two door Vauxhall Viva. He was squished in the backseat with Candy's roommate Eugené while his roommate and Candy's on again off again lover, Jake, lounged in the front seat.

"So, this is just like the beginning of every creepy horror flick ever." He deadpanned, taking in the dried and shriveled vines that seemed to choke the massive gate, giving only peeks at the silhouette of the gargantuan house beyond. "It’s the fucking house from The Haunting. You brought us to fucking Hill House, Candace."

"They actually shot most of that movie in Harlaxton Manor in England" The dish water blond rolled her eyes and said snootily, annoyed at being called by her full name. "That's a whole ocean away. Besides, people survived that. Catherine Zeta Jones and that older guy. The one from Taken."

"The movie yes, but the book's ending was ambiguous at best." Ewan scoffed softly, getting an elbow in the arm from Eugené. He shrank back from her sharp appendage. "I'm just saying that this is an incredibly bad idea. Every single horror movie starts on this kind of premise."

Candy turned quickly in her seat, her limp pony tail flipping across her thin shoulders in her thick, vomit green sweater. "Well, premise or not, I need to go in there and takes some pictures for my research on the blending of Jacobean, Elizabethan and Baroque influences in turn of the century Architecture and it took me a long fucking time to track down the owner and get permission to come and take photos."

Her face took on a thunderous expression as she scowled at him. "So how about you shut up, man up and let's get this fucking over with, Ewan."

He glared back at her, hunched into the seat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He wasn't one for confrontation but Candy was being especially bitchy for the whole trip. In fact, she'd all but brow beat them all into spending their long weekend making this god forsaken trip instead of going down to the lake for some sun, sea and sand.

"How about no thank you. I say we take pictures from here, then turn around and go back to the comfy little bed and breakfast in town. I, for one, don't need old man Hugh Crain and his gaggle of ghostly kids dragging my soul to hell before my final year."

Eugené snickered, her over-sized turquoise sweater marvelous against her mocca skin. "You watch too many horror movies, dude. "

Ewan huffed, "Jake watches too many horror movies. I'm forced to as well cause I'm his roommate and our apartment is the size of a fucking postage stamp."

Jake nodded sagely, as he never got worked up over anything. It was part of the reason why he got along well with Candy and most of the reason she grew fed up with his ass after a stint of dating. The blonde in question all but growled, her hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

"Well, the rest of us are going inside so either you going in with us or you're walking back to town."

He gave her a serious and contemplative look then turned to Jake.

"Let me out."

Jake finally looked nonplussed. "What? Seriously?"

Ewan kicked the back of Jake's seat, hard. "Let me out, Jake. Now."

Candy gave an indignant shriek. "Oh for fuck's sake. Let the big baby out. This is getting fucking ridiculous."

Jake made a face and opened the door, Ewan pushing down the seat and tumbling out unto the leaf covered ground in his haste. He stood, dusting himself off, not sure exactly what he was doing but sure that it was the right thing to do.

Jake made a helpless gesture towards him, his reddish brown hair flopping unto his face. "I can't believe you Obi-Wan. Come on, get back in the car."

"No" Candy shrieked once more. "If the little bitch wants to wait until we've come all this way to chicken out in the end then fucking leave him. He can walk the fuck back."

Ewan inhaled sharply, the brisk chill of the encroaching mist hurting his nose. "I have a really bad feeling about this. About this house. About this whole place. You didn't say anything about this when you asked us to come along and keep you company. Let's visit a quaint old house you said, Enjoy the beautiful fall colours you said. You didn't say anything about driving through the Forest of Death and Blood to get to Purgatory itself."

"Oh God, Don't be such a dramatic bitch," Candy sighed heavily. "I need this to complete my thesis. No one put a gun to your head to make you come with us you know. Frankly, I didn't even want to invite you but Jake said that you would just spend the break holed up in your room, like the sad sack you are."

Ezan flushed with anger and looked a Jake who was already shaking his head.

"I didn't say that. Well, not exactly." he shrugged helplessly. "Not the sad sack part anyway."

"Jesus." Ewan face palmed. "Look, let's all just get out of here before we become the next Blair Witch Project or something. Even the townsfolk are creeped out by this place."

Eugené stuck her head and shoulders from the window. "It's just a house. We go in, get the shots and get out. No big deal. Right?"

Ewan shook his head, "Wrong. There's something not right I tell you. This place is creepy as fuck and shrouded in an unholy mist. When has that ever boded well for a group of young, albeit alright looking twenty somethings?"

"Alright looking?" the girl squawked a laugh.

He went on… "with a massive over grown gate secured by huge fucking cow chains and a rusty ass padlock."

He stopped abruptly at the sight of a thin figure on the other side of the gate.

"Oh shit." Ewan hissed, backing up a few steps.

It was a man, thin as a rake with drawn cheeks and huge dark eyes and pale, sallow skin. He was taking off the chains, which clanked noisily together as he pulled them around and around through the wrought iron bars. One side of the huge gate creaked open, it's hinges screaming at the movement. It grated awfully on the ears and they all flinched back.

Candy got out of the car and politely introduced herself. The man was the caretaker, Mr. Dudley. His wife the housekeeper was waiting up at the house for them. He was going into town for some supplies and would be back shortly. Ewan almost asked if they were any relations to the Dusrleys from Hill House but a scorching glare from Candy shut him up.

Thankfully, the man agreed to give Ewan a ride to town in his old VW Jetta and they trundled off, Ewan turning to look back at his friends one more time. Jake was frowning, standing in the open car door as Eugené pulled her head back into the back seat. Candy was already in the car, gunning the engine impatiently.

Then the Jetta turned the corner and went out of sight.

The cozy Bed and Breakfast was warmth and welcoming and he had a wonderful lunch and spent most of his afternoon dozing in front of the fire place in the common area. By late afternoon the mist had crept into town and was curling it's way along the outer buildings.

He started getting really worried by the time dinner had rolled around and there were no signs of his friends. He tried ringing their phones but reception near the house was shitty at best. Finally he asked the B&B owners to call the police. Two officers came around, asking him questions and getting as much information as he could.

They asked him why he didn't stay with his friends and he had a hell of a time explaining why a stupid gut feeling had made him turn back. He told them of his ride with Mr. Dudley and they went round to the couple's in town residence, guided through the thinning mist by the warm yellow street lights.

Dudley greeted them at the door, wiping his hands on a dishtowel as his wife cleared the table behind him. "We don't stay up at the house at night. Never after dark. We always leave before dark."

Ewan watched in chilled silence as the man described the group of young people having left the house after a couple of hours, having taken all the pictures they needed. They'd then left in their little car and the couple hadn't seen hide nor hair of them when they made their way home that evening.

Ewan spent the night fretting over his missing friends; heading out early with the Police to trace their journey back to the house. Yes, he was sure that they wouldn't have left him behind. No, they were not the kind to pull pranks like this. Yes, he'd tried their phones over and over but had gotten no answer.

The road was clear that morning, all the mist cleared away and the forest was damp and darkly beautiful. The cruiser soon pulled to a stop, the officer having glimpsed a spot of cream and a reflection of red glass.

The little Vauxhall Viva was wrapped around a massive tree, having slammed head first into the thing. Poor Eugené had been thrown clear, her lithe dancer's body crumpled on the peat moss covered ground. Jake had suffered an awful fate, his lanky frame crushed by the dashboard as it had been pushed back by the heavy engine block.

The passenger seat was empty, it's door hanging open; the tread of unsteady footsteps leading around and around until heading deeper into the woods. As if the person had been wandering around in the mist and never found their way. They never found Candy's body.

They retrieved her camera a hundred yards away, it's flash card full. There were pictures of the old house, the sprawling lawn, along with the frowning Dudleys and several candid shots of the youngsters. Then there was shot after shot of mist, the faint silhouettes of trees barely visible. One of the deputies made the suggestion that Candy had been trying to light her way with the flash of the camera and had done so until the battery had eventually died.

The sheriff told Ewan that he should be thankful. That it was a freak accident. That he was the lucky one.

Funny, he didn't feel so lucky.

Chapter Text

"You don't have to do this you know."

Scott's voice was tremulous in the echo of the catacombs. The lamplight flickered as he gestured with his arm at the narrow corridor lined from ceiling to floor with recesses, most of them filled with the mummified dead.

Stiles looked up from his crumpled piece of parchment and gave him best friend a fond smile. "You know I do, Scotty."

They turned another corner and were halfway down another close path before Scott spoke again.

"Allison said that the Dragon Lancers are shooting anyone caught on the path on sight. Which is crazy because it's been like, twenty years since there's been dragon sign at the Pass."

"And what else has the beautiful and brilliant Princess Allison told you? Hmmmm." Stiles absently studied the parchment once more.

Scott happily obliged, eager to speak at length about the beautiful young woman who had captured his heart.

"She said that her grandfather, Kind Gerard, gets more and more crazy every day and that her dad has been taking more and more of the royal duties. She also said that he's been stepping up her training in weapons and matters of state. That's good right?"

"That's great, buddy." Stiles nodded contemplatively. "I trust the princess and her way too serious father more than that bag of cats grand pappy of hers."

"Stiles, that's the King you're talking about."

The shorter youth tossed a look over his shoulder while he gestured at the interned corpses around them. "Who's gonna report us? These guys?"

"I guess." Scott calmed down and shrugged sheepishly. "That still doesn't mean that you have to do this."

"You know I have to do this for my dad." Stiles huffed softly, turning down the next corridor. "He did it for my mom and I need them to be together Scotty, no matter the risk."

He gave a soft "aha" as he found the crypt he was looking for. His father's bindings were much paler than the others nearby, the cloth wrapped tighter.

He rested his hand against his father's chest and bowed his head, grief welling up inside him until it took his breath away. The warmth of Scott's hand on his shoulder allowed him to push the emotion down enough to get the job done.

"Come on," he sniffed and wiped away a stray tear. "Help me with him."

They are half way out of the catacombs when Scott asked, "How did you get Lahey to let us in without raising the alarm anyway? That guy is so intense."

Stiles tried to shrug but the weight of the body on his shoulder made it awkward. "I bribed him with Elderberry wine. A whole bottle."

Scott almost stumbled, nearly taking them both down. Stiles glared at him but he didn't even notice.

"A whole bottle? Where did you get a whole bottle of that stuff? Only Dragon Lancers get entire bottles."

Stiles grinned wickedly, "I stole it from Derek Hale after I fucked his brains out. "

This time they did go down and Stiles hissed at his best friend as they picked up his father's body once more.

"You and Derek Hale? Dragon Lance Corporal Derek Sebastian Hale? What? How?"

"Before we discuss the hows and whys of me losing my virginity to hot and sexy brood master Derek Hale, you need to tell me exactly who you know that his middle name is Sebastian?"

"Lydia told me. Speaking of Lydia. Weren't you, like, in love with her for years or something?"

They made their way out of the catacomb entrance, passed a drunk and giggly Isaac Lahey and hurried to the tree line.

"Eh. I figured that since I might get shot by dragon lance tomorrow or get cooked by Dragon breath and summarily eaten, I figured my five year plan wasn't worth the effort anymore."

"Shit man, that's … really sad."

Stiles made a 'meh' sound. "Kinda why I went for instant gratification with Hale. And sucking his brains out through his cock allowed me enough access to the guard house to sneak into the records room and find out where my dad was buried."

Scott exhaled loudly. "Wow. That's mercenary."

Stiles smiled proudly. "Thanks."

"I didn't mean… huh. Never mind."

It took them an hour to reach one of the old ceremonial pyres, deep in the thick woods and overlooked by the King's decree that all of the old temples and holy sites be destroyed.

Stiles had already set everything up and they got down to the solemn business of building the fire that would guide his father's passage.

He's glad that Scott was brave enough to be there with him, as they would have both been shot on site for daring to adhere by the old ways. His best friend and brother stood with him as his father's body burned, helped rake the ash so that everything was consumed.

All except the glowing green heart stone that was left behind. His father's stone was a vibrant emerald green, speaking to a patient and restful soul. It matched the beautiful blue that his mother had possessed, although Stiles had never seen it.

She'd died in childbirth and she'd been one of the last to be burned in the old ways until the King had chased away the dragons and stricken all Ancient Lore and Rituals from the Archives in a fit of grief stricken rage.

His father had been one of the last to make the trip though the Steep Pass to bring her glowing heart stone to where it would glow forever. If the heart stone was not freed by fire and it's glow allowed to slowly die within the body; the heart song would be lost forever.

Stiles owed it to his father to have the man's heart stone join his wife in song for eternity within the vast dragon caves. The great, wise beasts kept the glowing heart stones as treasures, keeping them warm and singing with their dragon flame.

King Argent had been so angry that the famed 'immortality' promised by the Dragon's had not helped his dying wife and daughter when they'd developed the fire pox. He'd cared not that their souls would sing together forever with the dragons. He cared not that his heart stone would one day join theirs.

He only cared that his beloved Queen and Princess were gone and that the Dragon's hadn't saved them. Thus he'd ordered the Pass collapsed and formed the Dragon Lance Corps with their huge iron fitted crossbows to deal with any Dragon that dared poked its head beyond the steep cliffs.

He wrapped the glowing stone carefully in a bit of his mother's handmade lace and tucked it into his shirt next to his own heart. Scott handed him the bag he'd already packed and hugged him tight.

"How did you even get the map to the forgotten path over the cliffs? I'm sure that the King would have had those destroyed years ago."

"He would have if he knew about it I'm sure." Stiles tightened the straps and checked to see if he had everything. "Luckily, Lydia Martin is a book hoarder and a secret genius who delights in the rare hobby of translating obscure languages for fun."

"And how did you get her to give you the map to the pass? You didn't have sex with her too did you?"

Stiles laughed freely and Scott's scandalized face.

"Sadly, my red haired goddess isn't interested in any one between her legs who isn't Jackson Fucking Whitmore so I never had a chance. I just gave her a small piece of information I had been keeping secret that would give her heavy leverage over Baron Peter Hale."

"Oh wow. She does hate his guts, doesn't she?"

"Oh boy does she. It's almost pitiful to see how much he admires her in return."

Scott nodded sagely. "Yeah, Ally tells me about their court rivalry all the time."

Stiles gave his best friend a long look, hoping that the secret love those two held for each other worked out. He knew that Allison's family would never let her marry a healer's son and Scott was too soft hearted to rise the ranks of the Military. It was an ill-fated match and he hoped that their hearts wouldn't be broken in the end.

Still, they both were two of the most pure hearted and optimistic people he knew so they probably had more of a chance than others would.

It was the kind of love his parents had, if his father spoke true. A love beyond all else, beyond time and the bounds of mortality. A love spoken of in soft tones by the fire, Stiles snug in his father's lap. The steady beat of his heart against Stiles' ear, the soft lilt of his voice when he spoke of the song that all heart stones sang deep in the Dragon's caves.

It was why he had to take his father's stone over the cliffs while it still glowed. He had to go into Dragon Country and find the caves of the mighty creatures and set his father's stone amongst them so sing forever, in tune with his mother's whose stone surely still glowed and sung.

He hugged his brother close one last time and kissed him on both cheeks and his forehead. Scott was already crying, which just made Stiles tear up. It was a soggy good bye. The chances of Stiles coming back alive were very slim.

"Your dad would be so mad that you're doing this."

"So mad." Stiles laughed wetly. "But I have to so this. For him. For them both."

"I know."

Scott stood there until he couldn't see Stiles anymore, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes as he cleared the pyre. With one last longing glance at the distant cliffs, he sighed and turned back towards the town.

Chapter Text

They told him the apartment was haunted. That no one had ever spent more than six months there before they either moved out, ran out or had to be carried out in straight jacket by burly men in white coats. Wufei didn't believe any of it, naturally. The last one was utterly ridiculous.

What he was interested in was finding a place so close to campus that only took up about half his rent allowance. It was on the first floor of a six apartment complex with a small yard and pool, thirty feet from a bus top and a fifteen minute bicycle ride from the university. He used the money he saved to buy a used but sturdy bicycle with a basket on the back for his books and a heavy riding coat for cold weather.

The apartment was nice enough, bare bones with old furniture that was more retro than vintage. Weird green and mustard colored chairs and ugly dark wood. It looked like it came out of the 1970s. There were a few attempts to modernize but they all seemed half finished or abandoned as if the person got fed up or gave up in the middle.

Wufei wasn't one for interior design, function over all else was what mattered. He had a kitchen for cooking, a bed for sleeping and a not so hideous formica dining table to spread out his laptop and load of course work. He'd unpacked his luggage the first day, having little more than a few boxes of personal items. The rest of the week was dedicated to getting all of his paper work completed pre-registration and unpacking the crates of books he couldn't leave behind.

He went to the Ikea store and came back with several free standing shelves, some cleaning supplies, bed sheets and a couple of pots and pans for the kitchen. Anything else he would either pick up another time or live without.

The first month was quiet. He was hardly home and when he did drag himself home from the library, he would flop face first unto the bed and sleep like the dead. School kept him busy. Social navigation kept him frustrated and grumpy. He cooked the simple dishes his mother taught him how to make and ate them distractedly while peering at his laptop or at his reference books.

He showered and washed his clothes like clockwork, the repetition of daily chores giving his racing mind a reprieve with their familiarity. Slowly, he bought little things to add to the space. Some cartoon letter fridge magnets to hold his grocery lists and pictures sent from home by post. Some better pillows for his neck when he passed out on the huge but hideously comfortable flowered atrocity of a couch. Some black out curtains so that he could crouch over his computer in the dark like some kind of goblin in his cave.

He bought a lava lamp from a local thrift store because he was feeling facetious. Watching its red orange glowing blobs float within the mystery liquid in the corner a weirdly comforting to look at when his mind was running in circles over his latest assignment.

Strangely, the lava lamp also seemed to be the catalyst for the odd events that started happening. Things started being moved. Just small things either being moved a few inches to the left or disappearing only to cheekily reappear after he just finished searching the entire apartment for it.

He would stare at his keys sitting smugly in the little special bowl near the door for a few minutes then pocket them without a word. He would frown at the crude and vulgar words spelled out with his fridge magnets before deftly correcting their grammar. He would dismantle the couch fort and set the little pillows back in their places so that he could collapse and take a nap before his afternoon class.

It was a bit of an inconvenience yes, but Wufei had grown up with worse. Having known and lived next to his betrothed Wen Lao Meiran since he was three, he knew how to ignore a pesky nuisance underfoot. He wasn't giving up this apartment for anything, ghost or not.

Things came to a head when a cup of tea tipped over unto his school work, ruining two days of work. As he screamed incoherently, he thought that he could hear a soft giggle coming from the corner. That was the last straw. No one messed with his education. It's was time for desperate measures.

He called his mother.

After listening to his woes, she hummed softly before curtly reminding him of his culture and hung up. He gaped at the phone, affronted by her unspoken slight at his intelligence, before flopping back unto the bed with a sigh.

Shit. Okay. He was an intelligent young man. He came from a long line of strong, brave and clever Chinese ancestors. He was a son of the great house of Chang. He could handle a ghost.

First step. Know thy Enemy.

It took two days in the library microfilm archives to find some information on his quarry. Back in 1976, there was a fire in the apartment and two young men had died. The older one, a nineteen year old Solo Maxwell had been burned to death while the younger, seventeen year old Duo; had died of smoke inhalation. It was reported that he'd been trying to rescue his older brother when he'd succumbed.

Armed with this knowledge, Wufei found and printed year book photos of both boys and had them framed. He then went to the local Chinese market and bought incense, oils and some sweets and delicacies. He also bought some flowers and took some cash from the ATM.

That night, he set up a shrine in front of the lava lamp and placed the pictures of both young men amongst the offerings. Falling gracefully to his knees, he lit the incense and set some of the money on fire, bowing to the shrine. He asked the spirits to be appeased, to please protect the home and it inhabitant and to finally find peace.

He'd barely gotten though pouring some of the sweet smelling oil into a small bowl when there was an unholy screech and the lava lamp went flying, crashing into the opposite wall with a shower of glass and orange red mess. Wufei ducked his head to protect against the shards and turned to stare wide eyed at the dripping wall.

He gingerly made his was over to the kitchen to collect the broom and scoop when a squeaking noise drew his eye to the fridge. He froze. The cartoon letters were moving. Of their own accord. He watched in complete silence and stillness as the letters slowly formed a simple message.

SRY LMP. FYRE BAD

He glanced back to the small shrine with its smoking incense and spilled oil. Oil he had been about to light via cotton wick. He made a soft 'ah' of realization.

"I'm sorry too." he said softly, "I should have thought of that… with how you died and all. So… ah… are both of you still here… together … or is it just.."

After a few terse seconds, the lettered started to move once more.

JUS ME. DUO. SOLO EN PAX.

"Solo's at peace." Wufei fumbled with the sudden latin. "Uh, ok. Duo. I'm Chang Wufei. Um, pleased to meet you."

SRY LAMP. LIKD IT.

"Ah yes, no worries. I will buy another one." he felt stupid standing in the kitchen with a broom in his hand, talking to air but this was such a weird situation. "I'll just clean up the mess now if that's alright."

Moments passed with no movement of the letters so he took that as a yes and proceeded to clean up the broken lamp and the disrupted shrine. He still left the pictures and the flowers and some of the sweets he could salvage. He got rid of the oil and the incense, anything to do with fire and flame.

Later he would find the flowers and sweets shifted around into a much more pleasing pattern and some of Wufei's bright highlighters and colourful sticky notes tucked it among the arrangement. There was a space left empty for the lava lamp that had been promised and all the cushions on the couch had been lined up perfectly.

When he finally went to bed that night, the lamp beside his bed clicked off before he could even reach for it. He blinked at it for a moment then said a soft 'thank you' into the darkness of the room, falling asleep with a small smile on his face.

Tomorrow he would look for a few lava lamp.

And some more letter fridge magnets.

Chapter Text

Draco felt his eyes burn as he leaned heavily on the thick wooden railing of the ship. Partly to steady himself as it swayed on the rough waters, partly to keep his knees from buckling.

The forest seemed like a great shadow as it grew further and further away, the terrifying golden glow growing behind it seemed to be mocking the sunrise. But the sun didn't rise from the west. And the sun didn't seek to devour all before it.

A sob tore its way from his throat and he curled on himself over the rail. His hands were covered in dark smears and bleeding from time cuts where he'd all but dragged the last of the heavy sleighs to the edge of the water. He knew that his face looked the same, his white blond hair dark with sweat and slicked to his skull.

He'd been among the last to leave, making sure that his people were safely out of danger and that no one had been left behind in their haste. He could do nothing else. He was his mother's son. And with her death, he was the leader of his people. He felt a sharp pang of anguish slice his heart. He was too young for this. He wasn't ready.

But she'd desperately placed the silver torc around his neck and kissed his head before leading the last of their warriors into the forest that had been their home. She'd gone to die, they'd all gone to die. To give the rest of them enough time to make it to the shore. To the ships that were waiting to take them into the unknown storm.

He could not even bury her properly. Give her the old rites as all the old chieftains had done. He would never be able to see her off to the underworld with fresh fruit and meat, feathers, soft furs and jeweled stones as was befitting of her stature and grace.

None of the warriors would get the farewell they deserved, to be washed and rubbed with fragrant oil by their mourning loved ones and sent off to the hall of glory with their armor and shields, polished and gleaming.

He locked his knees together to keep from falling, forcing himself to watch as the only home he'd ever known burned. He was chieftain now. It was his duty to bear witness to what had come to pass.

He could hear the weeping of his people behind him. The very young and the very old, the weak and infirm. Those who had not been able to pick up a weapon and fight the scourge that had been slowly encroaching.

A clink of armor at his side told him that Blaise was near, his mother's unique armor hanging large on his lithe frame. the dark haired boy would have to fix it in time, using the tools she'd taught him to forge and use. But he would have to do it alone, without her sharp abrupt guidance and infinite patience. Blaise was now the only one left of his line. Just like Draco, just like most of the others now wandering the ship, sharing water and blankets and seeing to the frightened and sick.

He turned his head to his best friend. Blaise eyes were dark with fear and fury. His dark face was covered in soot and ash and there was dried blood along his temple. "What do we do now Dray? Where do we go so they won't find us and kill us? Dumbledore's Army will never stop until they have killed us all, you know that."

The break in his voice was the only indication of Blaise's grief. He stood tall and proud, every inch the commander and second his mother had been grooming him to be. His blue epaulets were stark against the dark gleam of his armor. Just as Pansy's green and Theodore's red were when they came close. They were all dirty, exhausted and red at the eyes from crying. And they were all looking at him to lead them. Draco gave on last plea for his mother's wisdom before taking a deep breath.

He looked back at the burning forest, the orange glow looked sinister as it seeped through the trees. He could faintly hear the crackling of the ancient logs splitting over the waves of the ocean and his heart mourned deeply.

What a waste. What a stupid, ugly, hateful waste.

"We go north. To Durmstrag. Dumbledore dare not go against the ice fortresses of the north with their wild winter magic. He's already stretched himself thin with fighting the Summer Kingdoms. We can find shelter there for now."

"And after that?" Theodore's voice was gravelly from screaming orders for the evacuation. "He didn't seem to care that we'd turned down Potter's offer of alliance. That the Deep Forest wanted nothing to do with the Summer Kingdoms and their war with Hogwarts. He would rather see us dead and our power burned to ash that see it used by another. What are we without our forest, our lands?"

Draco turned and braced his hand on Theo's slumped shoulder, squeezing it. He looked into those tired grey eyes and slid his hand up to hold Theo by the back of his neck. "We are alive. That is what we are." he spoke firmly, "We are survivors. We are our mothers' sons and daughters and we will carry their fighting spirit until the earth ends or we do."

He glanced over to the rest of the ship and walked over to the overlook. People were looking to him and he would be the leader they needed.

"Mourn your dead. Celebrate them. But do not seek to join the so quickly." He looked among them , catching their eyes as they sat up straighter, stronger, less broken. "Ours was never an easy life. The Deep Forest was as nurturing as it was deadly. It may have been our home but it is not who we are as a people."

"We are our storytellers and our warriors, we are our innocence of youth and wisdom of the elderly. We are the saplings we saved of the forest that we will plant anew in our new home."

He gave one last look at the blazing shoreline behind him and closed his eyes at the deep sorrow that burrowed into his heart. He swallowed it down, there would be time for wailing and weeping later.

Now, he was chieftain. He was leader. He had to be strong for his people. He had to be his mother's son. He tilted his chin up and squared his shoulders, turning his eyes out towards the deep dark ocean.

"Till this earth ends or we do…. We will carry on."

Chapter Text

Private Isabel "Dizzy" Flores checked her appearance in the reflection of the elevator doors one more time. Her uniform was pressed and perfect, her Mobile Infantry black beret perched neatly on her head.

She stopped herself from running a hand over her shaved head, the blonde buzz cut so different from the curls she'd once sported. She would grow them back eventually but they'd shaved her bald during recovery and she'd kept it short for convenience since then. She'd been too busy learning to walk and fight again after losing an arm and most of her leg.

The mission to Whiskey Outpost on Planet P had been a cluster fuck, literally. The place had been crawling with bugs. They'd barely gotten away, after losing both the General they'd been sent to rescue and Lt. Rasczak, the surviving soldiers racing to the shuttle that had come to retrieve them.

She'd just taken out a Tanker Bug and was beating feet to the ship when Johnny had shouted "Spiral Roll Out Left!", an alarmed look on his face. she hadn't even hesitated, executing the maneuver she'd drilled into her brain over years as quarterback of the high school football team.

She tucked into a left roll, coming to her feet at a run only to feel a sharp and agonizing pain in her right arm, leg and side. She'd screamed, tumbling to the tarmac as the pain cut away abruptly, leaving her breathless and numb; bug screams and gunfire above her.

She recalledered Johnny yanking her by the back of her uniform as he yelled at the pilot to take off. The last thing she'd remembered was the medic pouring clotting powder on her and the blazing heat of it sending her under, Jonny's voice giving her comfort as she faded away.

She'd woken up on the moon base, still in the medical healing tank. The knitting devices were still patching up her side and ragged stubs that were her right arm and leg. Afterwards, the doctors had explained that both limbs had been too far gone to re attached by the time they'd gotten her to proper medical treatment and growing all new limbs were too expensive with the war on.

Luckily, they were making great strides in cybernetics and she would be fitted and wired up with two brand spanking new prosthetics and be back out into the battlefield in no time.

She'd waited until she'd gone back to the small recovery room she'd been assigned to to cry her eyes out. That was all she gave herself. One night to throw a pity party and be sorry for herself. The next day she'd signed all the relevant paperwork and been scheduled for her first fitting.

PT was hell and she'd had to run a hellish version of Boot Camp with other soldiers like herself, fitted with all manner of replacement limbs. She'd been beaten down, tossed aside, crawled through mud and clawed her way up from a recovering cripple to a hardened soldier and citizen capable of handling herself as well as, and in some cases, better than her all natural counterparts.

When she was done and ready for deployment, she'd been given a choice of station. There's been no hesitation then either.

"Roughnecks Two -Zero, Sir."

She'd been on the next ship out.

The elevator door's opened and she stepped out confidently. The tall blonde sitting on a nearby pile of gear looked up with a sneer then did a double take, almost tumbling out of the careless sprawl he'd been effecting.

"Holy shit. Flores!" Ace Levy blurted loudly, echoing through the hanger. "What the fuck are you doing here? I thought to died or something."

"More like or something." She gave him a grin, whipping out her orders. "Private Flores Reporting for duty, Sir."

"At ease, Private." a deep and familiar voice echoed from behind her and her breath caught in her throat."

Some soldier called out "Attention on Deck" and the other squaddies scrambled to attention. She turned her head, taking in the man striding toward her. Johnny looked older somehow, more stern and hardened. She'd read up on all the reports from Planet P and about his rescue mission to save Carmen from the Brain bug.

The hot knife of jealousy didn't slice into her at the thought of the other woman anymore. Dizzy had had Johnny in all the important of ways that night before the Whiskey Mission and had sated a lifelong dream deep inside her.

She'd had a lot of time to think when she'd been adjusting to her new circumstances and had come to some conclusions. She may have secretly joined the Mobile Infantry to be with Johnny but she'd stayed for herself.

She wanted to be a soldier. She wanted to be a citizen. She wanted to take it to the bugs who'd taken her home, her family and even parts of her body from her. she wanted her life to mean something after she'd fought so hard for it.

"Hey, Dizz." Johnny's smile was warm when he stepped up to her, handsome as ever.

She gave him a smart salute and grinned as he chuckled. "Hey Johnny. Thanks for the whiskey."

He flushed, ducking his head a bit, much to her surprise and Ace's delight.

"Yeah. It seemed rather insensitive a gift after I sent it though, considering Whiskey Outpost and all but…'

She placed a hand on his arm and he looked down to see the gleaming silver fingers. "Hey, I appreciated it. Thank you. It's hard to get the good stuff like that on the moon."

He nodded, his sheepish smile turning to a frown, placing his flesh hand over hers. "I'm sorry for not visiting you in person. I wanted to but…"

She gave him a shove to shut him up. "Johnny Rico. It's fine. You were out fighting a war. I didn't need you moping around while I picked myself up. I would have clocked you a good one if you'd shown up at my door with that hang dog expression."

That made him laugh and he pulled her into a hug.

"I missed you Dizz."

She blinked away the sting of tears and hugged him back just as tightly. "I missed you too Johnny."

She was grinning so hard that her cheeks were starting to hurt.

She was home now.

She was where she belonged.

Chapter Text

Ronon knew a lot of gate address by heart. He'd had to as a runner. He'd had to know which planets he could seek shelter on, which planets to lose his wraith pursuers on, which ones to find food on.

He also had to know which ones never to dial. Which ones lead to poisonous atmospheres or to enemies just as bad as the wraith. He had to keep them all in his head and keep them straight because one small mistake could lead to death, or worse.

When he came to live on Atlantis and had come to learn of Rodney's voracious lust for knowledge, Ronon had decided to compile a list of address with little notes and annotations on what he knew of the planets that lay beyond.

The genius' eyes had gone wide when Ronon had presented it to him as a courting gift, torn between racing to the labs to compare it to the database and jumping Ronon's bones right then and there. Thankfully for Ronon, sex won out and they'd tumbled into bed for a night of enthusiastic sex.

Ronon had been smug for months after, every time Rodney brought up the list in meetings; advocating reasons to visit one planet over the other. It made him feel that visceral sort of pride to know that he'd provided something for his mate that he took great pleasure and pride in.

Ronon wasn't a scholar back on Seteda but he wasn’t open about his level of education either. It helped people underestimate him. It let them speak in front of him without censoring themselves, thinking him no smarter than the wall he was leaning against.

Rodney had been one of the firs to suss him out, after Teyla of course. He'd waited until Ronon was balls deep inside of him and half way to losing his mind in pleasure before going in for the kill.

"You're smart aren't you?" he'd panted, his ass squeezing mercilessly on Ronon's cock as he rolled his hips deeply. "You can read ancient and you understand more in the labs than you let on, don't you?"

Ronon had been helpless to resist, nodding jerkily as he came hard. Then it was Rondey's turn to be smug for a month, though he agreed to keep his lover's secret. It was Ronon's choice to slot himself into the simple warrior's role but that didn't stop him from ranting to his lover in the privacy of their rooms without having to dumb things down.

Well, most of the time. Rodney was still light years ahead of Ronon and spoke in such terms that sounded like music to the man's ears but made no sense whatsoever.

One day, Rodney stalked into the room where Ronon was doing in morning katas and, after stopping and staring at Ronon's naked and sweaty body, had told him to prepare for a trip though the gate in an hour.

Ronon had nodded, smiling as Rodney trailed gently fingertips across his naked chest before slipping the digits into his mouth with a moan of pleasure. He wanted to pull the scientist to him so badly, to direct that talented mouth to his own. He would then guide Rodney gently to his nipples, which were already hardening, then further down.

But alas, Rodney tore his gaze away and stepped back towards the door, taking a deep and ragged breath and adjusting himself in his pants. He made Ronon promise to meet him in the hanger in an hour and stumbled from the room, leaving the man aching with need and no lover to indulge that need with.

A quick cold shower, he was geared up and walking into the hanger. Rodney was a lone at the jumper, nervous and flushed when Ronon crooked an eyebrow.

"Where's Shepard and Teyla?"

Rodney waved him into the jumper and dropped himself into the pilot's chair. "They're not coming today. It's just the two of us. I wanted to show you something."

Ronon only nodded as they descended into the gate room and Rodney started dialing. He recognized that address and frowned. The genius spoke before he could protest though.

"We've been able to replicate science drones in the city. Like the battle drones but these collect data and send it back through the gate. We've been sending them to the no go addresses on your list. Most of them are uninhabitable like your notes indicated but some of them are space gates. We found this one a week ago and all the astronomy geeks are over the moon. "

Rodney chuckled at his own pun as he deftly maneuvered them to the event horizon and Ronon inhaled sharply. "I wanted to show this to you because we wouldn't have even found this address without you. There's no sign of it in the database."

They emerged into wonder and Ronon leaned forward to gape at the sight before them. A massive nebula was sprawled around them, swirling and curling clouds of space dust and brilliant colour that took his breath away, spotted with bright stars that look close enough to reach out and touch.

Rodney had slipped to the back of the ship, tinkering with something until he called Ronon's attention away from the window. He was standing in the empty stern of the ship, nervously fidgeting.

There was an Athosian blanket laid out on the floor, a hand woven basket of food and a few bottles of the sweet juice made from some weird earth fruit called pineapple. It was one of Ronon's favorites and he always tried to keep a few bottles in the chiller in his room.

Rodney sank to his knees and extended his hand towards his mate and lover. When Ronon was kneeling before him, he pressed a series of buttons on his tablet and the ship around them flickered and disappeared. Rodney's calming hand stopped Ronon from flinching too hard.

"It's a hologram. It's not real. I just took the footage from outside the ship and projected it on the inside."

Ronon blinked, looking up at what appeared to be hard vacuum, the nebula cresting above, around and below them. He reached out his arm and felt along the sides of the ship, the image flickering where his fingers trailed.

"Like Star Trek? The holodeck thing?"

Rodney laughed, his blue eyes bright. "Exactly like that."

He proceeded to crawl into Ronon's lap, gabbing about how he and Miko had been working on this project on the side and how he'd thought is a perfect idea to try it out here with Ronon.

A picnic, which Ronon loved. In this stunningly beautiful space, which Ronon helped them find.

He smiled at his mate as the scientist gestured, getting lost in the technical specs of the project. The only real option was to kiss him silent. Rodney moaned into the kiss, hips bucking as this lover's large hands slid down his broad back to grab his ass and squeeze. Ronon pushed the basket aside, quieting Rodney's half-hearted protests for food with kisses that left him breathless.

"Sex now, food later" Ronon growled, effectively stripping his mate's clothes off as he explored the exposed skin with his hands and tongue.

The genius looked glorious, laid out so perfectly for him on the blanket, his pale skin glowing from the colours of the nebula all around them. The whole world was beauty and colour and he lost himself to the hazy pleasure of sex with his mate.

Rodney was slick and welcomed him into that wonderful, distracting heat that made Ronon shudder at the sensation. He bucked into his lover, tasting the salt of his skin and feeling that firm muscle under that soft skin.

He loved how Rodney gave everything, holding nothing back as he arched up into the thrusts, panting open mouthed and making little noises that should really be illegal in several galaxies.

Holding him carefully, Ronon rolled them until he was on his back, Rodney sitting astride him. Bracing his hands on his mate's hips and making sure that Rodney had his hands steady on Ronon's chest; he started fucking up into his mate steadily, keeping his strokes slow and deep.

Rodney shook, his head thrown back as he cried out from the change of angle and slow pace. His skin all but glowed, the nebula stretching out behind him to encompass the whole sky as if he was the centre of Ronon's universe.

Those blue eyes looked electric in the swirling colours, that pale skin glowing as if his mate was some kind of celestial body made flesh just for Ronon to hold, to mate, to love. They came together, holding each other close and trembling as bliss swept them away across the universe.

They ate the food Rodney had packed and drank the sweet juice; Rodney softly pointing out various interesting features of the vast space anomaly that surrounded them. Ronon grunted where needed, content to just lay there with his mate in his arms.

They made a love a few more times, Ronon working his mate's body until the man was weeping and begging for release. Kisses were sweet and sticky of pineapple and the jam filled pastries and Ronon smiled and licked along the row of hickeys he'd sucked along Rodney's inner thighs.

They stopped off at the uninhabited planet with a natural hot springs, another of Ronon's addresses; and they bathed and made love in the healing waters.

"I love you." Rodney whispered against Ronon's skin as he came, "I love you so fucking much. You don't even know."

Ronon tipped his head up and kissed him deeply, catching those blue eyes with his so that the genius would know who serious he was.

"I do know." he murmured against that wonderful crooked mouth. "I love you too. You are Di Na Nwunye."

Rodney tried to sound out the words with a tilt to his head. "Dye Nah Nuh woo…? Is that Setedan?"

"It's Sedanwe, a pre cursor to Setedan language. It's been dead long ages but we still used certain words and phrases In modern times."

"Oh" Rodney's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him close. "I keep forgetting that Seteda had such a long history before the wraith."

Those blue eyes looked up at him earnestly. "Will you tell me more about it sometime? Only if you want to, of course. I talk so much about earth that I forget that your people had built a unique and complex society of their own."

Ronon kissed him deeply, conveying his gratitude and affection for the compassion that very few people knew that Rodney possessed.

"Say it for me again please."

"Di Na Nwunye"

"Dye Nah Nuh- won -ee ay. I'll get it eventually." Rodney huffed. "What does it mean?"

"One's whose soul intertwines with mine."

Rodney stilled at those softly spoken words, heart racing as he stared up at his lover's serious brown eyes. Ronon seemed to be waiting for him to respond, a soft wariness in his gaze. Rodney swallowed, utterly moved and deeply touched by the admission.

"Say it for me again."

"Di Na Nwunye."

"Di … Na… Nwunye."

Ronon's soft smile was somehow incandescent and Rodney's heart twisted with the amount of emotion that the sight of it welled up in him.

"Does this mean we're space married now? I've been in an entirely different galaxy to too long and I would really like to get space married."

Ronon laughed loud and care fee before claiming his mate's mouth with a filthy kiss that left the genius flushed and panting.

"I do know of a planet where sharing a plate of fruit jelly constitutes as getting married. They have a conclave shielded by a ZPM and spend all day eating cake and drinking wine."

Rodney huffed a laugh. "Oh wow, perfect. You give me the address and I'll talk Elisabeth and John into going on a mission there. Easy peasy."

Ronon just chuckled and kissed his mate once more.

Chapter Text

When Tony met Erik, he'd been driving through the pre-dawn deserted streets Oakland, sobbing as he sang along loudly and off key to Patsy Kline's Crazy. He'd started off with Lizzo's Truth Hurts but somehow his playlist had skipped and Patsy's crooning filled the car.

His eyes had filled up and all the righteous anger he'd been feeling at All American hypocrite and liar Steve Rogers his long lost ex, Bucky; had bled away into heartbreak.

He'd been so stupid, turning his back on his family and following a man across the country. God, he'd been such a lovesick idiot. Not that living with Howard had been a bunch of roses. Steve had promised love and family and for a short time, the little circle of friends had been like a family. Tony had truly believed that he'd found his people.

Then good ol' Bucky had come back, a winged and wounded veteran, fresh from the desert with big wide bambi eyes that Steve could never resist. The clincher was that Tony had been the last to know.

What had really killed him was that none of his so called family seemed to care that his heart had been ripped out and stomped on mercilessly. They had all circled around Bucky, leaving Tony alone and in the cold.

He'd packed his bag in a rage, screaming and crying at Steve who'd stood in the doorway stone faced. His parting words had stunned Tony mute.

"You really thought I would choose you over him?"

Tony hadn't spoken another word as he threw the garbage bags full of clothes into the junker T'Challa deigned to lend him, and drove off without a look back. He was just about to wail the last strains of the classic song when the piece of shit car started making weird scraping noises.

"No No No No No, baby come on, no." he pleaded with the car, pressing on the gas as the car slowed and a bunch warning lights started popping up on the dash.

The vehicle rolled to a halt with a sad wheeze and a heavy, ominous clank. The music flickered and died leaving him in the silence of the deserted street. Tony sat in the darkness, hands gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white.

He felt numb, sitting there in the dark grey of the city, the sun just peaking over the horizon and turning the tops of the buildings pink and orange. His cheeks felt cold and wet, his eyes gritty and dry. He tried to take a breath but it caught in his throat. He tried for another but this one was difficult as well.

The next thing he knew he was sobbing, heaving breaths felt like lead as he broke down completely. It was all just too fucking much all at once. He couldn't handle it.

His chest ached, his breaths burning as his vision swayed. He leaned his head against the wheel and tried to do one of the exercises that Jarvis tried to teach him but it didn't seem to be working.

Suddenly there was a presence at his side, the car door opening and letting in the fresh air. There was a voice speaking to him, calmly and clearly and he latched on to it, using it as an anchor so that he didn't drift apart.

The voice was asking his permission to touch him and he managed to nod shakily. He was pulled from the car gently and made to sit on the curb, his head tucked between his knees as a the gently hand gently rubbed his back.

It took a while for him to come back to himself, wiping at his soggy face with the sleeve of his hoodie. When he felt put together enough, he looked up into the face of a dark and handsome stranger.

He was too strung out to be embarrassed and to scattered to pull on his famous Stark charm. He was just grateful that someone had been there for him when he needed. He gave the man a weak but genuine smile.

"Thanks. I'm Tony."

The man smiled and it was beautiful.

------------------------

When Erik met Tony he was walking back from getting an early breakfast from a nearby food truck. He'd been working earlier hours at his shop to cover a big job he'd gotten from Klue. Five vehicles that needed outfitting in a way that normal auto shops couldn't handle.

It was good money, if a little dirty; but it was stepping stone to being legit and was probably as honest as he was going to get. He wasn't the shining family Scion like his cousin was, with his high education and fancy house in the hills.

Erik had learned from the mean streets when he was a child, the brilliant and ruthless halls of MIT and the blistering deserts of Afghanistan. He'd come back hardened and disillusioned, hurt and angry at the world.

It had taken him a while, and some concealing, to move away from that soul eating rage and get on with living his life. He volunteered at various charities around the old neighborhood, spent time overseeing STEM workshops at the local schools. He made his life something he was proud of living.

He was less than a block from the shop when he spotted the old Junker that he and T'Challa had both learned to drive on, rolling to a sputtering stop halfway up the curb.

He hurried forward, checking for the driver's safety. T'Challa kept the car for sentimental purposes, letting Erik check it every so often to keep it in working order.

He found a strange young man gripping the wheel and sobbing, dark curls tumbling around his face as he hunched over. A quick look in the backseat showed black garbage bags overflowing with clothes and other belongings.

He opened the door carefully, hearing the harsh ragged breaths and seeing the trembling shoulders. Panic attack, or close to it. Erik got him out to the road, sitting next to him as he slowly calmed. The sun was just cresting the buildings, turning the city skyline gold. The street was peaceful and quiet as they sat together.

Eventually, the young man looked up at him, all wide eyed and vulnerable and something in his chest twisted at the sight. He was beautiful, with big brown eyes and flushed, creamy skin.

Erik smiled back at him.

"Hi Tony, I'm Erik."

------------------

Six months later Erik looked up from his tinkering to see Tony walking towards him, holding two cups of coffee carefully as he padded on slippered feet across the garage.

They both had learned their lesson about being barefoot in the garage space and the fluffy panther slippers Tony had bought as a gag gift had turned into an ideal compromise.

He was wearing Erik's old MIT shirt, it was large on him and came down to Tony's mid-thigh. He looked cuddly and adorable in it, not that he would ever tell the smaller man that to his face. Tony was sensitive about his height, even though he enjoyed tucking himself against Erik's chin as he snuggled to watch a movie.

He especially loved it when guided Erik's calloused and capable hands guided his slim hips up and down on his lap, working that thick cock further and further up Tony's perfect ass.

Tony set the mugs down on the worktable, slipping his arms around Erik's broad shoulders and pressing his lips to the scarred skin.

"How's it going? You get the new diagnostic machine up and working again?"

Erik nodded as he finished joining the last wire on the circuit. "Yeah, thanks for looking at it for me. The guy who usually troubleshoots it charges me an arm and a leg every time. Turns out having a gorgeous partner with a genius IQ and a masters in engineering is a blessing to the overhead on this place."

"Damn right." Tony chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the ritualistic scars along his lover's back. "Especially when since I get my returns in both financial and flesh equity around here."

Erik grinned and turned the stool, tugging at Tony's waist until he stood between his legs. Tony hummed into the kiss, his hum turning to a moan as the kiss deepened and Erik's hands wandered down to his ass.

Tony whimpered and went up to his toes, pressing closer until they were plastered to each other. When they finally parted, they were both breathless.

"You know what," Tony tilted his head coquettishly, "I think it's time for me to collect on some of my investment."

Erik smiled, wild and wicked as his fingers traced the crack of Tony's ass and pressed the pad of his middle finger against the smaller man's asshole.

"Yeah," he agreed, nipping at Tony's plump and pouting bottom lip. "I can dig that."

Chapter Text

Tony stood in the alley way, ignoring the drizzling rain as it steadily soaked his shirt sleeves through. The night was still warm and the drizzle misted over everything, making the dirty streets shining in the flashing red and blue lights.

He hugged himself, not against the actual cold but against a cold growing inside him, sitting on his chest like lead. He watched numbly as the local LEOs brought out the last of the cult members either in hand cuffs or in body bags. CPS was on the scene, seeing to the kids they'd managed to recover. Much fewer than had been recorded missing though. Much, much fewer.

"Here, take this."

Tony looked towards the voice and saw a charcoal grey coat being handed to him. His eyes traveled up the arm to meet Dwayne 'King' Pride's concerned gaze.

"Take the coat, DiNozzo."

Tony started to shake his head but Pride just frowned and shook the coat in his hand.

"Put the damn thing on, Tony, you look like a drowned rat. And this rain can't be doing your lungs any good either."

Tony managed to nod, still a bit too numb to object. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged the garment on. It was thick enough to be warm but not too heavy and he sighed at the warmth it brought.

Hands reached for the collar, flicking it up against the rain and Tony looked up into clear grey eyes. Pride looked like he wanted to say something but one of his agents hailed him so he guided Tony into a sheltered doorway and, with an admonition not to move from the spot, went back to the crime scene.

Usually, Tony would have bristled at the kid glove treatment but considering he'd been chasing down his suspect from DC to LA then down to New Orleans only to have the lone killer turn out to be a group of insane and brutal zealots with a penchant for knife play. The photos of previous victims flashed through his eyes, interspersed with glimpses of the bodies that had been kept like trophies in the warehouse they'd just raided.

It was looking to be a cluster fuck and Tony was grateful that the FBI would most likely be taking the case as a whole. He was ready to just hand everything over, fuck Gibbs and his jurisdiction hording, and let someone not him wade through the thigh high sludge that this case would surely reveal in weeks and months to come. He already had enough nightmare fuel to last him a lifetime.

Pride took him home, passing right by the hotel Tony had been checked into. "You shouldn't be alone tonight."

He sent Tony off to take a hot shower, laying out a pair of black sweats and a deep red LSUNO as well as a pair of thick socks on the bed of the guest bedroom. When Tony finally wandered out, there was hot delicious soup and crusty bruschetta waiting for him.

They ate in comfortable silence, Tony drifting over to the piano when he was done. His mind drifted as he lingered over the keys, not able to concentrate on one thing for too long.

The jersey was comfortable and smelled good just like the coat did. Pressing the cuff of the sleeve against his mouth, he took in a deep breath, savouring the smell and grateful for the absence of pain or rattling in his scarred lungs.

"Thank you." he murmured as Dwayne sat next to him on the piano bench. For getting him out of the rain. For welcoming him to his home so that he wouldn't be alone. For taking care of Tony in a way few others did or would. "for everything."

Dwayne's shoulder was warm against his and he watched the man's fingers as he started to play. His voice was warm and smooth as well aged scotch.

"You're welcome."

Tony gave a sigh and let his head fall unto that shoulder, comforted in the fact that the other man wasn't one to jerk away from the contact. The playing of the piano carried him away and for once in his life, Tony just let go and drifted.

Chapter Text

The proximity alert beeped, waking Duo from a fitful sleep. He blinked the crust from his eye and unstrapped himself from his bed, floating over to the fresher. Gravity was expensive to run, especially out in the more deserted parts of the solar system. There were no other sweeper ships nearby and Howard and his base HQ were at least two days travel away.

He had a quick breakfast of protein and vitamin shake, munching on the edible globule container after for fiber, as he checked over the cockpit. He was right in position. He quickly did a scan of the debris field around the ship and, taking manual control, eased into the shadow of a huge curved hunk of colony; setting his ships orbit to match the slowly rotating mass of burnt and warped metal.

There was nothing left of L5 now by a graveyard. A long line of space junk from when they blew themselves up rather than kowtow to Romefeller and Oz. Most of the valuable metals and parts had already been picked clean by other scavengers, even though the new earth government had forbid it. Duo usually made a pass once or twice a year, just to see what he could scrape together.

It wasn't the most lucrative of sites but Duo was one of the smaller outfits run out of the sweepers. His ship, named Cerberus because of the three powerful rockets to the back, was a small to medium sized ship, enough for a crew of one to handle. If that one was a crack pilot/ engineer/ gunner/scavenger former gundam pilot.

Duo liked the solitary life though. yeah, he enjoyed talking and socializing as much as the other guy but for the past few years, he'd appreciated the long silences of space. He made sure to keep in contact and put in for his down time though, whenever the quiet got too stifling or the nightmares too real.

Then he would make the trip down dirt side to visit one of his friends and spend some time soaking up all the planet had to offer. Quatre would welcome him with open arms, letting him sleep his jet lag off in a nice big bed, before stuffing him full of food and taking him to visit the Maguanacs at their coastal base.

Somehow, most of the other pilots would drift through or show up sometime within the week and Duo would spend time touching base and catching up with longtime friends. He would always head back up to space rejuvenated after those visits, happy in the knowledge that they were all getting along with their lives after the war.

He'd thought about trying to make a life on earth, as the others had. He'd even tried to settle down on L2 with Hilde and the dream that was a junkyard. But he hadn't been able to stick it through, the siren song of space calling to him before too long. Howard had called it the Fever and told of men who lived their whole lives without ever touching down on a planetary body.

He wasn't sure that he was that far gone yet. Still, he loved his little ship and the freedom it granted him. in fact, he'd heard stories about the terraforming being done on Mars and if it weren't for the few bonds he still had to earth and her colonies, he might have signed up for a ten year stint on the red planet. That was a thought to turn over in his mind for a later date though. now was the time for seeing what little treasures the L5 graveyard still held for a sweeper like him.

He was able to find some metal wiring that he was able to rip from one of the larger structures, a jagged piece of transparent flex steel that took him two days to carefully extract from its window casing and a shockingly intact gold music box with mother of pearl dragon inlay. It was still working when he brought it a board, the music a bit warped, but a little tinkering and cleaning had it working perfectly.

He would give it to Wufei when he went back to earth again, the Chinese man had almost nothing from his home and he knew that L5 mementos were usually only found on the black market, sold by fortune hunters and thieves. The Preventers had been able to shut down most of the rings, by Wufei's determination alone some days, and most of the items recovered were in a memorial museum in the capital of the New L5 settlement on earth. He'd kept nothing for himself and Duo knew that he would appreciate the gesture.

It took him a week to fill half his cargo bay with scraps, some going to the sweepers for Howard to fence for him, some he would take and sell to Hilde at cost. They still had a great relationship and she would sometimes take him to her bed, if she was in the mood. They would smoke weed together after and he would spend a few days fixing shit she had laying around.

Then he'd head back to space and start the cycle all over again.

He loved it though. He loved his nomadic life.

It wasn't perfect. He missed his friends. And sometimes he'd get so lonely that he lost his breath. But mostly, he had the vast openness of space, the twinkling of faraway stars and the glimmer of closer man made ones.

Maybe he'd settle on earth one day. Maybe he'd go to mars or beyond. Maybe he'd be one of those men who lived and died in the open blackness, not tethered to anything but his ship and his wanderlust.

For now, he was happy. And that was more than he'd ever thought a gundam pilot would be.

Chapter Text

Rodney knew the moment the water started trickling in, that they were in serious trouble. He'd been in this kind of situation before. Trapped under water in a container that proved to be less than perfectly water proof. He'd been of the opinion that being trapped in a damaged puddle jumper at the bottom of the ocean had been the worst situation but this one was steadily proving him wrong.

He looked down at the man at his feet. Ronon had taken the brunt of the impact when the floor had collapsed beneath them, breaking his leg and injuring his head which was still bleeding sluggishly through the bandage Rodney had managed to put around it.

He'd stopped hearing John's and Teyla's voices a while ago and was fearing the worst. They hadn't been trapped in the cave in so there was a chance that they could still make it back to the gate to dial Atlantis for help. That is if the steady rain and flash flooding the villagers had predicted as being weeks away, hadn't swept his team mates away in the sudden deluge.

That that was the last time he was trusting locals about complicated meteorological patterns and events. He would have to tweak the science drones to record weather patterns as well. The city had already opened the Met labs and such strides were already being made in weather prediction. He kicked himself for not including more of that tech into the modified drones used as UAVs. Stupid Rodney.

There was an inch of water along the cave floor now, soaking Ronon's pants as he sat leaned against the smoothest wall. Rodney pushed down his panic. This was not the time to lose his head to panic. He had his injured mate to see to and that natural imperative seemed strong enough to override his usual fear response.

He cupped Ronon's face, rubbing his thumb against the flaking dried blood and pressed a finely trembling kiss to his slack mouth.

"I'm going to get you out of here." he whispered the promise against those soft lips. "Don't you worry. I'm the smartest man in two galaxies and this will not be our end. I promise you Di Na Nwunye."

His heart twisted when his mate didn't respond, still unconscious as the waters crept higher. Rodney took a breath and looked around, taking in every crack, crevasse, nook and cranny for something that would change their dire circumstance.

"Okay, Mckay. Time to prove to your friends that you're worth a damn."

------------------------------------------

Ronon woke groggily, a sure sign that he'd been given the good drugs. He normally forwent pain medication on the city, not wanting his body to get accustomed to the comfort it provided. He need to be able to push through the pain as he did when he was still a runner. Life on Atlantis may be a good one, but he was Pegasus born and until every wraith was dead and their bodies left to rot on poisonous worlds, he would let himself go soft.

He blinked, grunting as his eyes watered against the harshly light of the infirmary and let out a breath when they dimmed immediately. He looked up to Teyla's smiling and serene face.

"It's good to have you back." she said softly, fussing with his blanket. "Rodney's fine. He's sleeping on the next bed over. He's not injured, just a few scrapes and bruises. Do you remember what happened?"

He rolled his cotton stuffed head to look at where his mate slept, sprawled over the empty medical cot like a man exhausted. He was dressed in a set of scrubs, a laptop abandoned near his hand.

"What happened?" his voice croaked and Teyla helped him drink some cool water.

"The cave system the locals told us about collapsed and you took the brunt of the fall. You and Rodney were trapped while John and I went back to the gate for help because the heavy rains started, causing flash floods. We had to comeback with Puddle jumpers and two more teams to get you out before the cave you were in filled with water and drowned you both."

Ronon grunted, as nodding made his head pound. He glanced over at his mate once more. "He really ok? He doesn't do well in water like that."

Teyla gave a small chuckle. "You actually have Rodney to thank for both of your survival. He not only found the secret ancient base that we had been looking for in the first place, but managed to manipulate the shielding into keeping the water out but expanded it upwards so that it breached the surface and allowed us to fly a jumper down the shaft and extract you."

She just shrugged at his look of surprise. "I' m not sure how he did it either. But I'm glad he did. We lost the ancient outpost when the shield eventually gave way and it flooded but since Rodney doesn't seem to broken up about it, none of the other scientists are complaining either."

She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "All he cared about was getting you to safety. He's been at you bedside every free minute his has. Carson eventually had to give him a bed in here so that he would sleep."

Ronon smiled, looking over to where his lover snorted and turned over to his side, hugging the laptop so himself. He turned back to Teyla.

"He wants to get space married. Said he's been here too long not too. We're planning to go to Morgavian to share a plate of Balarean Fruit Jelly. You should be there. You and John. To stand with us."

"That is wonderful, my friend. I am so happy for you both." Teyla's face brightened with joy. "It would be my honour to stand with you. John had told me about the many rules dictating partnership and mating on earth and I hope that one day we may stand in Rodney's homeland and witness your union there as well."

"Yeah, he's says Canada welcomes and recognizes life mates of the same gender but that the USA still has problems with accepting it, especially in the military. He's trying to get everyone on the city brought under a protected treaty. It's slow going."

"Yes, Elizabeth has said as much. " Teyla gave him a thoughtful nod and squeezed his hand once more. "I look forward to the day you are sealed as one with your fated other half ."

Ronon glanced once more at the sleeping genius and gave a pleased grin. "Yeah, me too."

Chapter Text

"You're crying again." Steve sounded both breathless and concerned, his breath hot against Tony's sweaty temple.

Tony moaned, bringing up his hand to wipe at the corners of his eyes. He flexed his thighs around Steve's waist, toes curling as Steve pressed in deep and stilled.

He didn't even realize that he'd been weeping silently. It was something he'd always ended up doing when Steve took his time, making love to him in that tender way that shook him to his core.

"Dunno why…" Tony confessed breathlessly, squirming as he clenched around the hot cock buried deep in his ass. "Jus' happens."

His next words were cut off as Steve moved, stealing his breath and making him throw his head back with a cry. God, Steve was so fucking deep.

He was aware now of the tears pearling at the corners of his eyes and sliding down into his hair. He pressed his heated cheek into the cool silk of the pillow. It felt so good against his skin, sliding against his back as Steve worked him up the bed.

Steve rocked him slow, refusing to heed any demands to move faster, go harder. The blond kept Tony on the knife's edge, soothing the restless and impatient genius with his hands, his lips, the sweet whispers against Tony's neck or the shell of his ear that always made him melt.

Tony keened, body trembling as he grasped at Steve's shoulders, searching for some anchor in the ocean he was lost in. Steve was so hot, his skin salty and sweet under Tony's tongue.

He was holding on to the last bit of his sanity, the various thoughts that circled his mind like a maelstrom since he'd been three years old. When Steve got like this, fucking him slow and steady until Tony surrendered completely, it always felt like he was falling from some steep edge.

There was always a fission of fear, a bit of doubt that if he let himself fall that Steve wouldn't catch him, wouldn't be there as he'd promised. It was always a leap of faith and faith was something that Tony had a hard time keeping hold of.

Steve rolled his hips, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Tony's frame, making his eyes roll wildly in his head as he gasped and mewled.

He held on desperately onto the blonde's arms as he shook, feeling every hot and heavy inch inside him . Steve was pressing on his everything, leaving no reprieve or relief as he made steady shallow thrusts, massaging Tony's inner walls, the blond gasping at the drag of that soft velvet soft against his cock.

Tony heard someone sobbing softly, only realizing after a while that the person was him. Steve's blue eyes were still concerned but Tony kissed him hungrily to assuage his fears.

Hands secured his trembling back and pulled him up, settling him on Steve's lap and settling him even deeper on the hot cock fucking him. He groaned, shuddering as he hugged Steve around the shoulders and buried his face in that warm neck.

He let Steve's sweet whispers and the steady rocking take him away, finally letting go off the last of his racing thoughts, his mind going blissfully blank.

He trusted Steve to take care of him. He trusted the man to catch him if he fell. Breathless endearments and promises of love spilled from his kiss swollen lips as he clung to his lover, their heated, sweaty skin pressed close.

His orgasm flowed over him seamlessly, ecstasy washing over him in deep waves as his vision slowly went white. He could feel Steve shuddering against him, that familiar heat spreading deep within his as his lover came with a stuttering grunt.

He sprawled bonelessly against the sheets as Steve eased out of him, gasping, bereft at the empty feeling. He clenched his ass weakly, whimpering as Steve left his side only for a moment. The blond soon returned, speaking soft words of comfort as he wiped Tony down with a warm cloth.

Tony was still trembling when Steve tucked him against his side, pulling up the sheets to cover them both. He felt tears pool in the dip in Steve's collar bone, the feeling of being utterly loved and cared for bowling him over completely.

Thankfully Steve didn't address the tears again, letting Tony work his way through his feelings with a tender kiss to his forehead. Tony's body shook with sobs, feeling as if something had been released inside him.

He trusted Steve to hold him, love him, protect him when he was like this; setting aside his doubts and skepticism and exposing his poor, scarred heart.

He felt safe. He felt protected. He felt loved.

Tony took a deep breath, drew on his faith, and leapt.

Chapter Text

Stiles scowled at his phone. He couldn't believe that Scott had bailed on him… again. He'd been planning this for months, scraping together the costumes, props and courage to even pull off this epic Halloween.

He'd putting together his costume over the past few months, making purchases online and in several thrifts shops. He's met up with the girls from the jungle and they'd taken him around to several lesser known stores which catered to the things he needed.

A local costumer had helped make the blue gingham dress with lace trim and the white blouse with puff sleeves and blue ribbon detail. There were even matching blue socks and hair ribbons.

He'd watched you tube videos on styling his brown wig into pigtails, the blue ribbons tied in bows at the ends of the braids.

He'd scored a couple of ruby red glitter heels, forgoing the silver ones even though they would have been more historically accurate. They were hella cool even though he'd had to practice walking in them for weeks so that he wouldn't break his ankles on the night.

His father had caught him one day, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen while Stiles happily made dinner. The younger man had flushed at being caught, shrugging and saying.

"Halloween."

His dad had nodded and gone on with his day, no longer that surprised with the things his son came up with.

He'd thought about asking Lydia or one of the other girls to help him buy make up but he didn't want to subject himself to that kind of judgment. He was self-conscious enough as it was, no need to kill whatever confidence he had been building.

The ladies at the jungle were a god send, taking him under wing and showing his the ins and outs of making up his face and putting on his wig.

He purchased the waist trainer online and practiced wearing it a week before Halloween. It was tight and a bit uncomfortable but he got used to it. It also cinched his waist awesomely so it was worth it.

Two hours into getting ready, he'd gotten a text from Scott, begging off their plans because Allison wanted to go to Jackson's epic Monster Mash Bash. Lydia had invited them, sans Stiles, and Allison really wanted to go.

Stiles would understand right? I mean, he could come with them. Scott was sure that Lydia wouldn't mind… much.

Stiles had hit speed dial in a flash, growling as he got sent to voicemail. When Scott did pick up, the noise in the background was too loud too appreciate Stiles' acerbic tongue lashing.

He cut the call with a snarl, his make up half done and looking almost alien as all half-done drag make up did. His head was covered in a flesh covered wig cap and the waist cincher was cutting into his flesh as he tried to breath deep enough to calm down.

His eyes stung as he seriously thought about scrapping the entire night. They ladies at the Jungle would understand right?

No. that sounded just a flaky as Scott and his last minute ditching of Stiles' well made plans. He had to go ahead with it. He owed it to himself.

He finished his makeup and dressed, saving the wig for last. There as a basket on the bed, complete with back up Toto, a little spiky stuffed dog with soulful black glass eyes.

"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, boy."

He picked up the black leather collar with a silver "Toto" mounted on it, frowning as he eyed the dog, contemplating how it would fit. He glanced over at the fluffy black wolf ears head band on the bed and pushed down the surge of anger.

Damn Scott for chickening out and leaving stiles in the lurch. Going as Dorothy and Toto would have been priceless, with Scott being a werewolf at all.

He gave a sigh. Whatever. He would go and have a good time. And with his little dog too. He chuckled and set Toto in the basket, taking one last glance at the ears. It really was too bad.

The sound of his window opening really shouldn’t make him jump anymore but he was in full drag and he hadn't expected to see any of the pack tonight.

He gaped open mouthed as Derek climbed in, dressed in head to toe tight black leather, looking like a scowling sex on legs.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Stiles blurted out, basket dropping unto the bed. "You aren't hot enough as it is? You have to walk around looking like that?"

The Alpha werewolf smirked, leaning over and picking up the wolf ears.

"Scott texted Isaac about ditching you. He was upset about for all of three minutes."

"That boy is so pussy blind I swear." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I guess I can't fault him too much, if I liked pussy as much as I like cock, I might still be following Lydia around in a besotted daze."

"Recent epiphany was it?" Derek leant toward the mirror, adjusting the ears on his head. "Liking cock more than pussy?"

Stiles chuckled, sitting on the bed and watching as the normally broody, angry man adjusted fake wolf ears on his head. There was something meta about it.

He held up the collar, wondering how the alpha would react. To his surprise, Derek knelt between his socked feet and looked up at him with a curl of his lip.

Stiles breathed out sharply, his whole body thrumming at the sight. Licking his lips and tasting cherry, he carefully placed the collar around Derek's neck.

He kept his hands on the were wolf, cupping his cheeks. Derek was hot to the touch, his skin prickly where his ever present five o clock shadow grew. He looked so perfect, kneeling there, with the ears and the collar. Stiles could just kiss him.

So he did.

Derek smiled as they pulled apart.

"No dog jokes."

Stiles laughed.

"Are you kidding? There's going to be ALL the dog jokes."

Derek just rolled his eyes, and said in dead pan. "Woof"

Stiles cackled gleefully. Oh, yeah. This Halloween was going to be epic.