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Bourbon Street | Get back on the horse

somekindafrankenstein:

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"It’s not like you haven’t before." Hecky rolled his eyes at Tig. They’d drunkenly locked lips more than once but never in a serious way. He had always been that way with his friends. Overly affectionate. Even when he was younger and he spent his weekends on friend’s couches after alcohol infused parties. He’d be wrapped around two different people all shoved on the couch. Tig would’ve gotten along with them. She reminded him of old times and new times. She was the best of both worlds.

Emmett smiled up at the names. A familiar expression Hecky recognized. The face involved some amusement but they didn’t seem to phase the bartender. They were both nicknames but their full names woud have been just as weird. He just looked amused and almost sympathetic when he looked up from the lime.

"I’m…" He perked up when a big booming voice cut him off and a grin appeared out of nowhere. He looked every bit an excited puppy when his eyes went to the tall blonde that Hecky turned his head to find. His own eyes went wide. An identical expression to Tig’s on his face when she looked at him. Emmett gestured at the man.

"That’s my name." He waved a hand at Isaac in greeting with the hand that held the knife. "Lionface." He grinned at him then went back to cutting up the lime. Hecky felt a genuine smile cross his face at the way they interacted. His eyes dragged back to the other man though. Tig might already have someone on the line. Hecky was pleased about it. The man reminded him of Reese but he kept this to himself. Any similarities weren’t obvious due to the body difference. Where Reese had been lean this guy was…huge.

Hecky took his card out of his wallet to hand over to Emmett and he took it with one hand while he sat the plate down with the other. He nodded at Hecky with a small smile. His gaydar wasn’t going off howeer and that was a fucking shame if he’d ever seen one. Emmett glanced over at Isaac and chuckled.

"So far so good. As long as these two trouble makers don’t start." He pointed at them with Hecky’s credit card before he turned away to the register. Hecky grinned at that. Hecky looked over at Tig.

"Collective dreamin’? Not that I’d be surprised. We spend enough time together that it coul happen. Some weird science biological sync up. Thank god I don’t menstrate." He reached out to pinch her anyway with a wide smile.

"You know how I don’t like to toot my own horn." This was a lie. "But I’m a damn genius for this."

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"Trouble makers?" Isaac asked, looking Tig and Hecky over. "They don’t look like trouble makers to me, cuz." Tig smirked, holding in an all out laugh. It was sweet of Isaac to say so, but the truth was that she and Hecky were quite adept at getting into trouble if they put their minds to it.

But it was generally the good sort of trouble that ended with them swapping stories in the morning after one or both of them had made the trek home in clothes they’d worn the night before. The Got Laid Parade, as a friend of theirs liked to call it. It had a much better ring than “walk of shame.”

She arched an eyebrow at Hecky, laughing a little when he actually pinched her. She leaned in, speaking softly. “Darling, really, you’re more than a genius. I think you might actually be a god. Speaking of…” 

She turned back to Isaac, who was leaning over the bar a little, a big smile twisting his lips. He really did look like he’d stumbled off Mount Olympus or Asgard or wherever else gods liked to hang out. 

"I suppose we wouldn’t get into too much trouble if we had supervision," she said. She didn’t miss it when Isaac blushed a little, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Well, I’d be honored to keep you two company," he replied, looking the pair of them over. Isaac was used to pretty people. He came from a family of pretty people. Well, technically a pretty family and a pretty Riley, but Isaac had known Riley for so long that he considered him family, too. But he wasn’t used to pretty people flirting with him. Or at least if they did, he usually didn’t pick up on it.

"Emmett, can I get a beer when you get a chance?" he asked, sparing a wink at the dark-haired man (Hecky, he thought he’d heard, but he wasn’t sure) before turning to his cousin.

05/11-14
(19)
World’s End | Impossibly Blue

bedroomlaugh:

Eoghan let an undignified snort escape. Lots of people had tried to shoot him. Maybe he just had one of those faces that people wanted to shoot. Sometimes he liked to think it was because he was so attractive but then he thought about the people who had actually shot at him. Mostly old friends and most recently the cute hunter.  

"You must be a glutton for punishment then. Making all these bad decisions." He said, nuzzling at Fletch’s neck. He was saying something about how handsome he thought Eoghan was, which was ridiculous. "Excuse me, I believe you’re the handsome one."

Eoghan’s hands paused for a moment as he looked down at the cooking pieces of bread. He would hate for that to burn. But at the same time it was hard for him to just sit back and let this happen. That smile and the look in Fletch’s eyes. It was dangerous.

His nails dragged up Fletch’s stomach one last time before Eoghan moved away to lean against the counter. “An entire liquor store? I’ll hold you to that.” His eyes roamed down Fletch’s body and he grinned. Maybe this was dangerous, but then again it wasn’t more than he could handle. 

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Fletch took in a slow breath as Eoghan nuzzled his neck. He really was going to burn the french toast if the other man kept that up. Fletch had never been much good at multi-tasking when one of the tasks at hand involved sex. He smirked. Eoghan had no idea how much of a glutton he could be.

"I suppose you could say that," he said. "But in my defense, most of my friends are enablers."

That was an understatement, considering that Drake Garrish was one of his best friends, and it wasn’t like Tig really gave a thought to restraint all that often. She would like Eoghan, he could already tell. though Fletch supposed that introducing Eoghan to Tig was probably the closest thing he had to introducing him to his family. It was probably a bit soon for all of that.

Eoghan’s fingers tickled at his stomach, and Fletch couldn’t help but smile. Even when the other man stepped away, Fletch could feel the weight of his gaze roaming over his skin. “I assure you, you can hold me to anything you want.”

Fletch glanced over his shoulder with a smirk before returning his attention to the toast, shifting the pan a little to make sure it wouldn’t stick and burn. With a jerk of the pan, he flipped the bread over and let the sizzle of the cooking food fill the comfortable silence between them.

"You know, you don’t have to run off right away. If you don’t have anywhere else to be, I mean," he said. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, but he had the distinct sense that Eoghan wasn’t the kind of person that had long-term plans, and he really didn’t want him to leave just yet.

05/11-14
(13)
World’s End | With Their Pumped Up Kicks

somekindafrankenstein:

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Amber eyes followed the path of her glass as she knocked back the rest of her scotch. He was surprised and impressed at the rate she decimated it. The Wolf suspected he needed to catch up so he knocked back his own. He went to set it down but it clunked the last inch when she grabbed his hand. The bartender gave him an irritated look but Aubrey didn’t even seem to notice.

His eyes went to their hands when she pressed them together. Rissa was hot. In the temperature sense Admittedly he meant the other way too but that wasn’t his focus. Her hand was warm compared even to his which was elevated above a human’s temperature. Aubrey automatically adjusted his hand with hers his fingers between hers. The demonstration made sense The two of them together were stronger when they were rooted to each other.

A small shy smile crossed his lips. Rissa hadn’t brushed him off for getting deep with her. She’d just added to it. Might’ve been the booze talkin’ but he liked her. He wished he would have met her on the base. That wasn’t a guarantee of infinite time to get to know her but the chance was better than the QI. This thought made him uneasy. He’d never had it cross his mind before.

"Yeah, exactly." His small smile turned into a grin. It faltered when she let go of his hand again but the strength of it returned when one of her wings spread out. He gave an exaggerated version of a lean forward like the nudge had been of a shove. He sat up straight at her words then rubbed the bottom of his chin as he considered.

"I’ll allow it." He waved at the bartender and made a circle gesture with one finger before he pointed two fingers at their glasses with a slight raise off of his seat. He turned back to her quickly.

"Sometimes, I wanna go to the wilds." His nose scrunched with a smile that was part excitement. Just to see what it’s like. They say in some places there’s no domes for miles." He made a wide hand gesture but the look on his face made it more genuine than cheesy. "I bet it’s fuckin’ beautiful. Terrifying but beautiful."

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Lincoln grinned when she said they might be useful. All that time spent on zombie plans he hopes that some detail in them was worthwhile. Gold had to be mined for. Those conversations had at least managed to bring them closer. Other hunters on the base might roll their eyes but Oma got it. The plans were fun because they thought it was a monster that they might never have to face. That fact was as helpful as monster plans. If she was there he had every confidence that they could get through it.

Oma had already nested in her room like she always did. The phoenix couldn’t help but make a place hers. Her bright light seemed to extend into all the dark shadows. Sometimes she did this with her mess. His lips quirked at the sight until he saw her grab a bra off of the floor. His eyes lingered until he processed what he was doing then they shot to the window and he walked over to push back the curtain.

The view was mostly buildings and the lights that shone at night. Pretty but not very reassuring right now. The sight just reminded him of the weight of what they were doing. However it was better than staring at a wall and it made him look busy instead of awkward. He’d seen plenty of people naked. He was a Wolf. That was just how they did. Most of them had been other Wolves or family. Of course he’d dated.

Oma wasn’t family. Not like that anyway.

"I won’t stop you." He shot back at her over his shoulder when she spoke. "The dress was quite nice though." He smiled then walked over to the minibar and pulled the doors open. He surveyed it.

"The question is, how many tiny bottles of booze will it take to get this werewolf drunk. I’d like to go into the briefing with a hilariously bad hangover. What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He started to grab bottles out and line them up, the snacks next to them in  a pile. He glared at the line of tiny bottles of booze as if that might make them bigger.

"I’m not sure this would do it. I bet we could steal some from Pierce."

Rissa barely turned to the bartender when he refilled their glasses. She didn’t reach for her newly topped-off drink right away. She needed to slow down, and her current conversation was far more interesting to her than anything that the bartender was dishing out.

While she was a flirting neophyte, she had encounters with people in the past that made flriting into an art. It was clear after a few minutes that they only really wanted to get it in, but Aubrey seemed to want to get to know her. At the very least, he didn’t hit the ground running when she started talking about roots and connections. It had been Rissa’s experience that people didn’t respond well to that kind of talk on a first encounter.

She smiled and nodded her head enthusiastically when we talked about going into the wilds. There were outposts set further into the abandon than other bases. Rissa had always wanted to do a stint at one of those kinds of outposts. They were supposed to be more dangerous, plunked out in the thick of it, but the way Rissa saw it, they must’ve had a certain kind of serenity to them.

Her family had lived on the very edge of the dome in Vermont, and she’d often wandered outside of the supposed safety of its cover more than once. She liked the way she could hear the rustle of the trees in the wind, feel the sun directly on her face.

The wilds were dangerous; she was not so naive as to think that something beautiful couldn’t also swallow her whole. She agreed with Aubrey, though. Sometimes she just wanted to venture into the abandon and see it for herself. Humans were great, but they had a bad habit of trampling all over everything without thinking about how it would play out for the rest of the world.

She could see it every day. Regular humans didn’t even pay other sentient beings proper courtesy sometimes. She was only half-kaida, but even so she’d seen the looks that people gave her. They never quite let her forget that she wasn’t the same. She was other, just like vampires were other. Just like werewolves.

She wondered if Aubrey had experienced that kind of prejudice. Sometimes it was easier for weres and shifters to hide, though Rissa didn’t think that they should have to. The very idea of the shifter trade made her skin crawl. Luckily, the hunter corps didn’t seem to give a shit about what people were, so long as they could do the job.

She figured that was the reason that so many of the supes signed up. After all, the Quidel Initiative alone consisted of mostly supes. Aubrey and Linc were wolves. Pierce and Rissa herself were kaida, and Oma was a phoenix. Rissa hadn’t met the other hunters yet, but she knew there was at least one tuatha.

"Me too," she finally said with a smile. She picked up her drink, taking a big gulp. " Hey, who knows? Maybe after this we’ll get a vacation. We could go on a hiking trip or something. That’s a thing that people do, right?" She paused, blushing a little. It was probably weird to invite him on a hiking trip when she’d known him for like twenty minutes or something.

"You know, if you wanted to. We just met. You might get to know me and think I’m annoying or something," she joked to cover up the potential awkwardness.

Oma emerged from the bathroom wearing a sleeveless hoodie and some yoga pants. They’d been a far sight more comfortable than the dress that she’d been wearing, though she like getting dressed up. She went to stand by Lincoln, ruffling his hair fondly as they inspected the stash of booze in the minibar. 

"I should’ve tried to charm the bartender out of a few bottles of champagne. He was trying to flirt with me; I could’ve made out like a bandit," she sighed wistfully, but her smirk remained in place. She couldn’t lie. She liked it when people flirted with her, to a point. But as far as she was concerned, she didn’t want to pursue anything with anyone that wasn’t Linc. "Poor Pierce probably needs all the alcohol he has."

"But I bet that Aubrey would give us the contents of his minibar if you asked," she teased. She wasn’t a wolf, but she’d definitely spotted how the younger hunter acted around Linc. Must’ve been an alpha perk. "He’s a sweet kid, and I bet that he and Riss will probably hang out at the bar long enough that they won’t need it. Really, it would be responsible to take their booze so that they don’t go overboard. We’re senior officers, so we can show up with a ridiculous hangover, but the rookies might get in trouble. So we’d be doing them a favor, am I right?"

The logic was a little twisted, and she wasn’t exactly joking, but she was sure that Linc would roll with her on this. He generally rolled with her, figuratively speaking. She wanted to roll with him literally, but perhaps tonight wasn’t the best timing for it. Still, a girl could dream.

03/20-14
(18)
World’s End | Careful for the bite

regardstothesquirrels:

The little creature was standing on it’s back four legs, doing it’s best to look intimidating by flexing it’s fangs and lifting it’s front two legs like a spider would when it was trapped in a corner but Jack paid it no attention. Instead she started scribbling down notes about the creatures size and color, then a quick sketch of it. She hummed in acknowledgement when Remy said she was welcome but didn’t look up from her clipboard.

She did look up when he said he found the creature within the perimeter and that Jonas said he could return to active duty soon. “I’m glad to hear that. How’s Jace by the way? You were staying pretty close to him the entire time he was down. Was it hunter kinship or…” She grinned and raised and eyebrow. “…was it because he’s gorgeous?”

She wasn’t blind, in her scientific watchings of everyone she’d seen a couple of the sideways glances that Remy had given Jace and vise versa. It never seemed to happen at the same time though so they never caught each other doing it. It was fascinating and slightly maddening at the same time. Still she wasn’t going to say anything, she had to be objective in these things.

She laughed lightly when Remy said that he was growing out of rest. “You mean you’re getting restless? It’s understandable, you’ve been locked up in the base long enough. But you seem to be healing quickly, you’ll be back out soon enough.” She started to turn back to her notes but stopped halfway when Remy held up his hands and warned her about handling the creature he’d brought her.

 Her eyes went wide at th sight of his palms and she quickly put down her clipboard and walked over to him, holding his wrists as she looked over all the bites.

"Remy why didn’t you say something as soon as you got here? These look…," she bit her lip, looking from his palms to the creature in the tank over her shoulder. If this thing was poison then she would have to sacrifice a lab animal to see it’s effects properly. It wasn’t that she thought Remy was less than a lab animal but they were hard to come by and if he was already bitten, another fifteen minutes wouldn’t hurt him anymore.

"Okay, I’m taking you to see Jonas, but I wanna get some samples and stuff first." She looked back at Remy and her eyes were full of concern. "Unless it’s very painful or you don’t want to. Then we can go see Jonas right away, it’s entirely up to you. I don’t want you hurting anymore than you have to."

She let go of his hands and turned to grab a pair of rubber gloves and pulled them on before turning on an overhead light and turning his hands to get a better look. “How do you feel? Do you care if I get some swabs?”

"Gorgeous?" Remy asked. His voiced wavered a little. For starters, he was unsure if Jackie had been seriously inquiring about Remy’s opinion on the arrangement of Jace’s face. Secondarily, he was not sure how to go about answering the question. he enjoyed Jace’s company a great deal, but he had never sat down to objectively assess his physicality. Jace was definitely in shape, and when Remy thought about it, his features were quite aesthetically pleasant. He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling, as if the rafters were especially captivating to him at that precise moment.

"I was worried for him. I promised I would stay until he was better. I… desired to make sure that he would recover." He was glad that Jackie didn’t press him too much on the subject, though his ears were undoubtedly red from sheepish embarrassment.

"Oui," he agreed, mentally cataloging the word for later use. Restless. Since his inability to communicate when Jace had been injured, he’d been making more of an effort to adopt as many English words into his vocabulary as was possible. He did this partially by reading. That was easy enough, considering how much downtime he had now that he was off of active duty.

There was a surprising amount of literature available on the base. Gideon, for example had several volumes with him. Half of them were textbooks, which Remy knew well enough. But the other half were filled with stories that had clearly been in circulation long before their time, written by someone who had far more idealistic expectations of how the world would be. They were impractical, but Remy enjoyed them. It was a comfort to know how hopeful people could be.

The most helpful book, however, had come from Sheppard, of all people. He’d given Remy leave to search the whole of his bookshelf. For the most part, it held manuals for vehicles and a handful of joke books. But stuffed inside of a particularly cringe-inducing volume of jokes centered on toiletry, he’d found the most useful book. It was hand-written, and it seemed to be an account of a man who was “on a one-way train to Swoontown” because of “the most beautifine goddess that ever did live.” 

It listed no actual names, but the pages held clear descriptions of several characters with curious nicknames. Y-Sub, for instance, was a man for whom the narrator had a not inconsiderable amount of empathy. The narrator pointed to their mutual love of “cracking wise.” He also had no small amount of admiration for Y-Sub’s physical abilities. 

The rest was a bit hard to decipher; it relied so heavily on colloquialisms and turns of phrase that Remy had never before encountered. He’d taken an entire afternoon poring over the book, making notes on what he could decipher. He was not yet brave enough to attempt to incorporate some of the more outlandish sentences into his own speech, but he’d made a rudimentary attempt at implementing some of the simpler terms. He’d told Gideon that the younger hunter’s French was, “hella.” It had evidently been correct, judging by the way that Gideon had smiled.

Jackie’s hands felt warm on his wrist, and he looked at her for a moment before looking down. The bites looked worse than they had a moment ago. They looked like they should hurt more, but mostly Remy felt like he’d sunk into a warm bath after a long hunt. He was swaying on the stool, though he wasn’t aware of it.

"I feel fine, Jacklyn," he said. In his head, he sounded reassuring, but it had mostly tumbled out of his mouth sounding drunk. He quickly corrected himself, wanting to use the opportunity to practice his English slangerisms. "I am most hella. Please, take all of the sampling you need."

As if encouraging her, he held his hands out a little more. They were out of focus, so he squinted to compensate. “Is this a test? Do you require a blood sample?” He wiggled his fingers, giggling softly and repeating the motion, clearly amused.

03/12-14
(8)
World’s End | Dark Roman Wine

somekindafrankenstein:

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Romulus grinned when the pup froze in his tracks. He managed to watch him out of the corner of his eye now that the Wolf had caught onto him. It would have been too obvious to stare right at him. He still traced the movement behind the bar over to him. He wasn’t sure if Vlad had decided to impart his pack with the knowledge that he was here. He’d at least caught his scent. He glanced towards the women who all looked very disappointed with this turn of events.

He didn’t blame them. They were missing out on the more attractive of the two bartenders.

Dark eyes turned to the other Wolf as he spoke. Romy’s eyebrow lifted just a fraction. His voice was rougher than he expected. When he asked what he would have and leaned on the bar he let his eyes trail up from his hands and over his neck to his face in a slow slide. His expression was somewhere between sizing him up and checking him out. He wouldn’t apologize for either. He folded his hands together on top of the bar and tilted his head towards the flock of women he’d left behind.

"Are you sure you want to leave them panting? You seemed to have them all on a leash." His eyes stayed on the bartender. It was a metaphor he’d rarely use to reference another Wolf unless he was looking to slight them in some way. He used it for humans all the time. Those women were painfully human and ordinary. He wasn’t surprised by the Wolf’s choice at all.

"Give me a red wine. Pick a good year. Something..decadent." He preferred a good wine to almost any other kind of alcohol. That may have been his ancestry. He leaned forward on the bar and lowered his voice.

"I’m not sure what’s behind the bar these days but yes this is a test.”

There was something so utterly familiar about the alpha, but for the life of him, Bastian couldn’t place it. It was in his scent, but also in the line of his jaw and curve of his smirk. Bastian looked the man over, taking in the tone of his arms and shoulders and the angle at which he held his head. There was confidence there, a self-assurance that also shone in his eyes, though Bastian couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

Growing up, he’d been taught that making eye contact with an alpha was a challenge. His father had taken him to the dirt for holding eye contact for too long on more than one occasion. He had no intention of issuing any kind of challenge, especially not to this alpha. His wolfside clawed at the inside of his skull, desperately wanting to get closer. Whoever the guy was, Vlad hadn’t been joking when he’d called him a VIP.

"I dunno about a leash," Bastian said, his trademark smirk falling into place on his facial features. "Wouldn’t that mean that I want to keep one of them?" It sounded a little harsher than he meant it to. He was sure that the bachelorette party was comprised of some very nice and perfectly lovely ladies. But Bastian didn’t do commitment. He’d never been on a real date before, and anything beyond one-night stands made him feel uneasy. He hadn’t even tried for one of those in a while. He told himself that he was just tired from work, but he knew that wasn’t really what was going on.

The real reasons, however, tended to put a damper on his mood, so they stayed locked up in a corner of his mind so that he could staunchly deny that anything was wrong at all. His wolfside bristled and huffed at him. It knew how the weight of the shame that they were carrying. Bastian ignored the wolf, pressing it down in his mind. He brushed his fingers through his hair, ruffling it as he narrowed his eyes in thought.

Most people that came to Fenix didn’t order wine, and if they did, then they didn’t bother to expound on their order any further than red or white. Vlad drank wine with the high-rollers, though, so Bastian knew his way around a wine list. But each option he went over didn’t seem quite enough for the larger than life presence in front of him. After a moment, a thought occurred to him, and he leaned back.

"I think I have just the thing," he said, turning and bending under the bar to get into the wine fridge. As luck had it, he’d stowed away a bottle of wine that Malcolm had given to him a few weeks ago. It was a French vintage, and had apparently come from Malcolm’s uncle’s cellar. Bastian had never met Malcolm’s uncle, but he knew that he was immortal and proudly French, so he’d probably been drinking wine for, like, hundreds of years. Bastian would trust his judgement.

He set a wine glass in front of the alpha and uncorked the bottle, letting it breathe before pouring it out. He laughed a little. “If it’s a test, how do I know if I pass?”

He arched his eyebrow, smirk still in place. “I’m Bastian, by the way. What do you want me to call you? ‘Sir’ seems a little stuffy.”

03/08-14
(6)
Devil’s Trap | Walk five hundred miles to fall down at your door

somekindafrankenstein:

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A small smile appeared on Jo’s face when Dean said it was her choice. This was a side of Dean she’d never quite seen before. A cautious one. She knew that he cared but he didn’t know in what capacity. There were lots of things left unspoken between the two of them. Jo realized they might actually have to talk about them now but that what a whole otherp anic inducing thing that she didn’t need right now. She just knew that she didn’t want him or Sam to leave.

"I…don’t mind if you stay." Even she wasn’t sure if shem eant in this room or in the apartment. She cleared her throat and licked her lips to try and clear her mind and get her words in the right order. "Either of you." She took a deep breath and her brow furrowed. "If anyone can figure out what’s going on with me it would be this group of people." She shrugged and looked back up at Dean. "Besides who else would I trust with this?" A weak smiled appeared on her face.

"Not that you Winchesters won’t cause a fuck ton of trouble on your way but we’ll get there eventually." Jo looked down at her hands and released a long breath. The action helped to steady them more. "But rest has to happen before we do anything." Brown eyes lifted back up to look at Dean with a smirk. "Considering someone just showed up and caused a scene." Just because they weren’t acknowledging the large elephants in the room didn’t mean that she couldn’t tease him about it.

Her face went serious again. Her emotions tugged her around and she was helpless not to follow them.

"I can’t believe you still carry that around. Thanks." She hoped the stressed syllable would be enough to communicate the gratitude she felt that he did carry it. If anyone could understand a punch load of meaning in a word it would be Dean. They’d both always said less than they meant.

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"I’ll stick with this for now." Sam glanced at his coffee and shrugged. This whole situation was a black coffee problem. An ‘as much caffiene as possible’ research session was ahead of him. They might not get to it tonight, or maybe Dean wouldn’t. He never knew which one of the patented Dean responses his brother might have to a situation. He might be in denial about what this ressurection could mean so Sam was prepared to take lead with the books. He always was.

He had Elia here to help him anyway.

His gaze went back to her and he chuckled at the offer. That would be the healthier way to deal with tonight. Finish the sleep he’d started and get a fresh set of eyes on it in the morning. That was the non-Winchester over extend himself way. Elia kept an eye on them when she could. Sam didn’t always tell her how much he appreciated that. He gave a quick tilt of his head at the couch as he considered it.

"Let me find out what they want to do. I’m guessing it’s going well because we can’t hear them fighting but I should check just in case." He put a hand on Elia’s shoulder with a squeeze then let his fingers slide off as he walked backed to the room. He knocked on the cracked open door then stuck his head around the corner after a beat of silence. Jo sat on the bed and Dean wasn’t too far away. They both looked lost and kind of awkward.

Sam smiled at Jo when she met his eyes and she gave him a quick nod that said enough to let him know that she was glad to see him too.

"Cross is offering up his apartment and Elia says she has a townhouse nearby." Sam lifted his shoulder that hung out in the space of the open door. "Whatever you guys want to do. We could stay here and figure it out in the morning." Sam paused. "Further into the morning."

Dean tried not to watch Jo too closely, tried not to catalog her reactions as he spoke. He was a little worried that he was going to creep her out or make her think that he was worried about her stability. And he was worried, but he knew Jo well enough to know that she wasn’t fragile and wouldn’t shake apart on the spot. He was more concerned that she would get that impression. He didn’t want her thinking that he doubted her because of anyone on the frickin’ planet, she was the last one he’d ever doubt. 

He couldn’t help the sheepish laugh as Jo teased him. In retrospect, punching Cross in the face had probably been overkill. He’d apologize in the morning. Not directly, of course, but in his own, roundabout way.

"I’m sure Cross is fine. He’s resilient," he said with a small shrug. His expression sobered along with hers, and he looked at the gun. He wanted to say that he’d kept it because he knew she’d be back, but that wasn’t entirely true. He’d hoped for as much, but the real reason that he’d kept the shotgun was because it was the one thing of hers that he could cart around without outwardly showing anyone how much he missed her. Sammy knew, he was sure, but no one else he knew would think twice about him carrying a gun. 

But he couldn’t tell her that. He’d probably sound stupid or creepy or both. So instead he tipped his head in a short nod and muttered, “Welcome.” As if that could’ve possibly conveyed what he was feeling. It didn’t, but he was Dean Winchester, and emotional suppression was his specialty, right after hunting and drinking.

In the kitchen, Elia kept her focus on Sam. He looked tired, and so had Dean. She wondered how long they’d been sleeping when she’d woken them up, and how long it had been prior to that since they’d gotten a real night of sleep. She’d known them to go for days with only a couple of hours of rest, and it worried her to no end when they did that. It was common for hunters, sure, but it was also unhealthy. She smiled at Sam when he chuckled, reaching out and poking him lightly in the chest.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Sam. But you guys need to rest. I’ll go all fairy tale sleeping curse up in here if I have to." She was only halfway joking. She nodded and watched Sam go back to the bedroom before turning to Cross, who was smiling, clearly amused.

"Shut up, Cross," she pouted, elbowing him playfully. This only made him laugh, holding his arms up in self-defense.

"I didn’t say anything, principessa," he said, the amusement more clear in his voice.

"Still shut up," Elia retorted, sticking her nose in the air. She tried not to yelp when he pulled her into a gentle headlock and playfully ruffled her hair.

Dean was grateful when Sammy showed up. He didn’t want things to get awkward between him and Jo, and he wasn’t sure where to take the conversation next. He looked back to Jo and put on an easy smile. “Your call, Jo. Sammy and I can go crash on the couch for the night, and we can tackle this with a little more sleep under our belts. Or we could stand watch, if you prefer.”

03/08-14
(22)
World’s End | You’re My Best Friend

thetimeisnotonourside:

She tilted her head in curiosity, watching as his hand fumbled around in his duffel bag, wondering what he was doing. She got her answer the moment that Issac pulled out one of his shirts, vision suddenly going dark as he draped the material over her form. A small growl escaped her, though she was more amused then anything.  She sort of felt like a little kid again, remembering how when she was younger she used to hide inside his clothes as an owl or kitten. just wanting to be near that brightness of his. 

Tired of scurrying around the shirt, and failing to find an exit, Aaron shifted back to normal, in the blink of an eye. Shifting, in her opinion, was always an uncomfortable experience but something that you grew used to. What was once painful was now nothing more than tense muscles and bones that just needed to be stretched and cracked. Or that could just be the feline attitude talking. 

She was lying down, shirt covering her from the collar bone down to a few inches above her knees. Aaron giggled, one hand moving to pat his blonde hair, before running her fingers through his hair. Her feline traits tended to carry over once she shifted back. “You’ll have to get up eventually mister. Might as well for food right?” 

Aaron stopped her ministrations once the urge had died down, slipping from beneath the shirt as she stood and stretched her nude form. Perhaps if she wasn’t a Porter she may be embarrassed about it, but because she was a Porter, being naked was a normal occurrence, especially with a family full of shifters. Hell, it was pretty normal to see London walking around on deck in nothing but her birthday suit because she felt like it. And also because she liked the attention she got, she had once confessed to Aaron with a devious smirk. 

She sighed happily as muscles loosened and bones cracked, dropping her arms back to her side. The young blonde turned around and grabbed the borrowed garment and tugged it on, slightly giggling as she turned the shirt into a dress. Aaron loved wearing all the guys clothes because their scents were a comfort to her. 

Aaron smiled, fingers grasping Issac’s toned arm and proceeded to tug on the limb, knowing she didn’t have the strength at all to move her older cousin. “Come on Zacky. Get your butt up before I leave you here and go eat it all myself because I am not playing maid for you no matter how much I love you.”

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Isaac buried his face in his pillow, which muffled his groan of exaggerated anguish. He let Aaron tug on his arm, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to move him too much. He’d been kind of scrawny in his early childhood, but he’d hit the ground running when puberty reared its head, shooting up like a weed and bulking up just about overnight. Not really, but that’s how Solo always described it, and Tish always backed him up with a smirk and a nod.

The reality was that Isaac had spent one particularly uncomfortable summer taking his mind off of his growing pains by learning everything there was to know about sailing a ship. The coils of rope they used for the rigging were pretty heavy, as it turned out, and between learning how to hoist sails with November and lugging supplies around with Emmett, the muscle build was far more understandable. 

The work he did now required a bit more heavy lifting, certainly enough to keep him in shape. Albie liked to comment that it was useful having a partner that was built like a brick wall. She often had Isaac stand behind her and frown sternly during particularly troublesome negotiations, just so no one got any ideas about trying to pull anything.

Not that Isaac was actually the intimidating enforcer that some people thought he was. His Porter sensibilities more or less precluded the expected gruffness that his stature suggested. And honestly, he pitied anyone who was stupid enough to actually try and threaten Albie. She was small, but she made up for it by being smart and ruthless, when the occasion called for it.

He’d once seen her leap over a table and take someone to the floor so quickly that she’d disarmed him and shoved his own gun in his face before he’d had time to react. Definitely a change of pace from living with his family, but he loved Albie like a sister all the same.

Isaac laughed from deep in his chest when Aaron threatened to leave him. He stretched and yawned, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes as he started the, in his opinion, laborious process of getting out of his cozy blanket pile. He made it halfway out before dramatically slumping over, his hand skimming at the floor next to the bed.

"Oh no," he said, ineffectively flailing his limbs, "Ronnie, gravity suddenly increased on me. I can’t get out of bed." He made a show of uselessly trying to fight the fictitious increase in gravity before going limp.

"Remember me fondly, Ronnie. Tell them I was brave," he said as solemnly as he could muster, though his eyes crinkled from an oncoming smile. He did a ninja roll out of bed, moving with surprising grace for someone his size, getting to his feet and shaking the sleep from his limbs. His hair tickled at the nape of his neck; he’d need to cut it soon. Tish normally did it for him, but it’d been a while since he’d met up with the ship.

"Do you think Garrett would make chocolate chip waffles if I asked him really nice?" he asked, grinning at Aaron. 

03/08-14
(11)
World’s End | When He Calls To Me I Am Ready

somekindafrankenstein:

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"So people tell me," Ailith grinned, pleased with the compliment. She prided herself compliments to her intellect. They were rare, compared to all the people that liked to point out how well-behaved and pretty she apparently was. Well, she thought to herself, they were half right on that account. She gripped Frazier’s ass, squeezing a little more when he spoke into her ear. She wasn’t sure what was more thrilling, the fact that she was doing all of this, or the fact that Frazier was letting her decide what she wanted to do.

Everything about him was so contrary to the people that surrounded her back home. Her cousins, of course, were an exception to that, but that was still different. She didn’t want to rip off any of her cousins clothes and pounced on them, kissing them hard until they wound up on the floor. But she wanted all of that with Frazier.

Her eyes closed, and she moaned softly into his mouth when he kissed her. But then he’d pulled back, and she blinked up at him, hoping that she didn’t look as stunned as she felt. Aware of the slight pant in her breath, she felt a little embarrassed, especially when he leaned back to look at her. She could imagine how red her face was. The blush burned at her cheeks, and she was almost certain that it would creep all over her until her entire body was bright red.

By reflex alone, her eyes widened at the feel of his hands on her stockings. She’d been trained her whole life to think that doing this sort of thing with someone that her parents hadn’t approved for marriage was disgraceful. They wanted her to think that her body should be preserved until it was time to make more McCallum babies. She had never been so sure of the falsehood of that sentiment than she was in the moment.

Her mouth felt dry, and her tongue darted over her bottom lip in an attempt to lessen the feeling that all of the water had evaporated from her person. She was aware that there were several ways that things could go from here, and she had the frenzied thought that she wanted them all at once. She laughed breathlessly, more like a short exhale of air than a full laugh.

"Why the hell would I want that?" she asked, sitting forward a little. She put her finger under Frazier’s chin, smirking with more confidence than she knew she had. "Would you be a lamb and take those stockings off for me? They’re starting to itch."

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When Ailith’s finger slid under his chin he tilted his head up more to look at her. His eyes flicking back to normal at th action. A crooked smile appeared on his face that crinkled the corner of his eyes when she smirked down at him. The laugh and disbelief caused a growl to go through him that was so low it was almost a vibration. Ailith wasn’t going to change her mind about this. Frazier couldn’t help but be pleased.

As soon as she asked he adjusted his fingers so they were just tucked under the stocking on each side. He rolled them down her legs but his eyes didn’t leave hers. He’d thought she might be soft and delicate once they got here. Ailith wasn’t just that. She could be strong and delicate at the same time and she was fascinating to watch. She was dominant in a way that he hadn’t expected. He liked people who could tell him what to do.

He could see Ailith bossing him around with ease. The idea sent a thrill through him that he stashed away for another time. He broke eye contact and continued to roll her stocking down her knees. He leaned to press his lip on her thigh as he slid them down. His fingers followed behidn their path to trace over her thighs, her knee, to her calf and over her ankle. He let the stockings drop out of his hands then let them slide back up her legs. His touch was gentle but enough to be felt.

His eyes went completely black again as he kissed up her thigh. This was one of his favorite places to bite someone. The skin fragile and full of nerves that sent the sensation directly where he wanted it to go. His fangs were pressed against his lip and his mouth felt dry. Frazier tucked his fingers into the side of her underwear. He broke his lips away from her thigh to look up at her. To make sure she was alright with this.

She certainly didn’t object so he pulled them down further. His lips pressed back against her thigh and followed the fabric down her leg. If he let his fangs brush against the delicate skin a couple times he couldn’t be held responsible. He was notoriously bad with temptation. He slipped the underwear off and dropped it on top of the stockings. His hands went back to her thighs and this time when he kissed up her thigh he didn’t stop.

He let his hand slide up to her hips and he pressed a soft kiss between her legs. A hum vibrated in his throat at how she felt. He let his tongue brush over her a few times before he gripped onto her hips and rose up to his feet again.

"I couldn’t help myself." He smiled at her then kissed her again. This time it was a little more desperate. His hands came out from under her dress then grasped at it to try to get it off. He needed to see her uninterrupted by fabric and zippers. Just Ailith, Stretched out all pale skin and heavy breaths. He needed that now.

"This dress needs to come off.

03/08-14
(28)
World’s End | Up all night for good fun

somekindafrankenstein:

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Wrench chuckled and nodded at the comment about Drake. That man somehow kept all the Angels at his place and not at each other’s throats. He wasn’t positive that people should be able to keep that many insane people under one roof without incident between them. According to word on the street the demon somehow managed it. Wrench had heard Astrid say that he admired Garrish before but Astrid was notoriously insane himself.

"I don’t even want to know how he does it." An exagerrated full body shudder went with the comment to express his disgust. He hadn’t even thought of anything in particular but just the idea that there were ways made him ill. He’d been with his fair share of insane women but some of those Angels took the cake on dangerous crazy. Sure the sex was most likely mind blowing, if you survived, but was it worth it for the terror?

A frown appeared on Wrench’s face at the joke about being skinned. He knew it was a joke but it left a bad taste in his mouth considering the circumstances of his visit. Laughing in the face of death just wasn’t as funny as it used to be. It had kind of come true.

But he couldn’t let Malcolm know that.

"Oh, guns blazing my friend. I may die but I’ll take the villains with me." His expression changed dramatically at the mention of Irene. He made a noise that could only be described as the noise someone might make when they were being gutted alive. "Irene is suuuuch a biiitch. We need to find a night spot that isn’t inhabited by low life crazy people." He clinked his glass with Malcolm’s then knocked back the shot. He took Malcolm’s glass and set it on the counter next to his.

"Then they might not let us in." Wrench turned to face Malcolm and wrapped a hand around his wrist. These days Malcolm could transport him without physical contact but that didn’t matter. Wrench always did this. A habit left over from the days of when he learned to transport and did it all over Asher’s house to keep them out of trouble. It only ever delayed the inevitable.

Also Wrench wasn’t the fondest of long transportation. The journeys made him stomach uncertain now and then. There was a reassurance in hanging onto Malcolm. The feel of skin kept him anchored.

"Ready, captain."

The first time that Malcolm had met Wrench, the blond had smiled at him. Over the years, Malcolm had seen many variations of Wrench smiles, ranging from playful smirk to the classic “I’m sorry I did the thing, but look how much charm I can channel in my face” grin. Malcolm loved both of those smiles, and every degree that feel between them. 

Frowns were another matter entirely. They didn’t belong on Wrench’s lips, and they were so rare that the gesture seemed incongruous with the rest of his face. There was a frown, though. From the timing of it, Malcolm gleaned that Wrench wasn’t okay with the joke he’d make about dying, but he was certain that there was something more to it than that. They joked about death all the time. It was their right as young twenty-something and potential immortals.

Not that Malcolm ever wanted to live out that potential. He’d known about the curse that ran through his veins for as long as he could remember. He hadn’t minded it back then. As far as he’d understood, it just meant that he could spend the rest of his life with his family, and a young Malcolm Kinnear couldn’t think of anything better than that.

But then some asshole immortal with some asshole grudge had murdered his father, and once the dust had settled around him again, he’d realized that being immortal didn’t mean spending the rest of his life with the people he loved. It meant that in most cases he’d be spending the rest of their lives, and mortal lives, he’d learned, were fragile.

It had comforted him to know that Wrench was like him, with the same blood burden and the same unwillingness to embrace eternity. As such, they liked to make light of the things that made them squirm, so Malcolm wasn’t sure what had made Wrench frown. He’s ask later, when they would both presumably be a little more drunk.

"She is the worst," he agreed, wrinkling his nose at the subject of Irene. Bastian was sweet and kind, strange things to attribute to an assassin, especially one of his caliber. He tried to hide his gentle heart, but Malcolm could see it. He had plenty of experience with the truly heartless, and Bastian did not qualify. Not by a mile. "I was always under the impression that we hung out in places full of lowlife degenerates so that we looked better by comparison. And Kevin isn’t so bad. Dumb as a damn cinder block, but he’s essentially a nice guy."

Of all of the bartenders at Fenix, Kevin was perhaps the only one that was just a bartender. Malcolm was pretty sure the guy didn’t know that Fenix was the front for Vlad Relyco’s crime empire, which was a little concerning, considering that Bastian always has a weapon of some kind within reach, usually stowed in a compartment under the bar. Maybe Kevin just thought they worked in a rough neighborhood. Technically true, Malcolm conceded.

Wrench took his hand, and the wielder forgot all about the potential stupidity of Kevin the Bartender. They’d been holding hands for so long that they seemed to click together like the pieces of a puzzle. Malcolm had learned to ignore the heat that seemed to shoot from the contact of their hands, up his arm and straight to his cheeks. Malcolm didn’t like to blush; the act was too telling. He’d trained himself to remain calm in all situations and avoid physical tells, mostly because of his business, but it had its uses in his personal life, too.

He smirked at Wrench and squeezed his hand, and with the slight tingle across his skin that normally accompanied magic, things rearranged around them and reassembled in the form of the bustle of Fenix. There’d been a time when his teleporting hadn’t been so smooth, but as in all things, he’d trained and honed the skill until it was effortless, like a reflex.

Fenix wasn’t terribly busy, but there was enough traffic that no one noticed their sudden appearance. Without breaking contact with Wrench, Malcolm headed to the bar. He knew for a fact that Bastian was working, but he wasn’t at the bar.

"Hey, Mal," Kevin said in greeting. He set out two glasses without asking for a drink order. Malcolm checked in on Bastian pretty regularly, at least consistently enough that Kevin had committed his favorite drink to memory. Malcolm’s visits had become even more frequent in the aftermath of The Big Event. He still didn’t know the details, and that drove him insane but he knew that it had left the wolf devastated. Kevin, to give him due credit, seemed to understand this, and he answered Malcolm’s next question before the wielder could ask. "Bastian’s on his break. He should be back soon, though."

Malcolm nodded, hiding his immediate concern. Kevin’s innocuous statement could’ve meant that Bastian was actually on a break, but it could’ve just as easily meant that he was holed up in a breakroom with someone licking coke off of his abs. Malcolm’s gaze flicked over to Wrench. They were there to have fun, not get into a snit over Bastian.

"Thanks, Kevin. If he comes back, just let him know were’e here, would ya?" Malcolm slid one of the glasses of whiskey on the bar over to Wrench and took the other for himself. "You. Me. Dance floor."

He smiled and tossed the drink back quickly before making his way toward the dance floor. And maybe if he accidentally ended up grinding on Wrench in the crowd, it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. Yeah, totally not a big deal at all.

03/06-14
(14)
03/05-14
(2)
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