Unfold Your Own Myth

Evie turned her head to kiss the top of Javier’s, murmuring reassuringly, “It’s all right. It’s all right, I’m fine. I finally got to feel our baby - they’re more than worth all of this. Just do me a favor? Use your nose to steer me away from anything cinnamon-flavored at the party. Throwing up at the feet of one of your family members is not the impression I want to make.” She then returned his smile with one of her own, “They’ve been amazing so far - warm and welcoming. I’m so glad that I’m getting the chance to meet them. And I only get to be in Mexico with them for so long so, morning sickness or not, I intend on making the most of it, and that means going to this party.”

The sincerity of Dorian’s statement completely took him aback. Suddenly it seemed as though this was much more than just a breakup. Like Dorian was, in fact, used to being alone and this was more like validation. Jack was no psychiatrist, but he’d seen a few in his day. He could almost see what was going on here. Still, Dorian seemed the type to have tons of friends. He saw how his fellow students practically threw themselves at him. Perhaps he wasn’t as superficial as originally thought. 

“I won’t need to leave here for a couple hours. I have no problem with you spending your evening with me.” Jack was truly lucky that there had never really been any point in his life where he’d been alone. That being said, he could sympathize. Those he was closest to hadn’t been so lucky. 

“Emotionally unavailable, hmm?” He capped his grading pen and removed his glasses he wore for teaching, finally accepting the fact that no more work would be completed that evening. “I can’t say I know what that means, either… Not that I’m any authority on relationships.” He’d only ever been in one relationship, after all. If his partner was being emotionally unavailable, it usually meant he was stressed or worried.

“But when I hear that, I think that he thinks you’re either hiding something from him or that you don’t trust him enough to open up completely. Would you ever want to date someone who is obviously hiding something?” He folded his arms across his chest and heaved a sigh. “You say you don’t want to be alone. When was the last time you dated someone? Before him, I mean… Have you consigned yourself to the thought that you’re meant to be alone? If you truly believe that, then it would surely take some work to open up to someone.” 

Dorian’s laugh could be described as nothing less than maniacal. Jack found himself staring unblinkingly, finding the act akin to something out of a horror film. He half expected flies to start crawling out of Dorian’s gaping, laughing mouth. 

Once they’d both regained their wits, he spoke, “I think you’re wrong, Mr. Gray. Love works in mysterious ways. There is nothing about you that would make you impossible to love.” 

“Thank you,” Dorian murmured. He could go back home. He didn’t have to be alone there. He could go home and throw a party, fill the place up with people and alcohol, but it would mean nothing. He’d still be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t truly know him and never would, never could. It wasn’t the same. Granted, Jack didn’t truly know him either, but Dorian had a feeling that the patient professor understood far more than he might realize. After all, he had studied the very story of his life. 

He grunted around a sip of his drink, making a face more at himself. He did understand it- what emotionally unavailable was supposed to mean. At least, Dorian thought he got it. As Jack mentioned not opening up to his boyfriend, well, he hit the nail right on the head. Dorian tilted his head, considering the question. “Of course I wouldn’t. But I also know that there are often secrets which one cannot share with even the closest of friends or lovers. There are sometimes secrets in one’s life which no one could ever understand.”

He straightened a little, pouting as he squared his shoulders. “I am always dating someone. Or fucking someone. I’m rarely alone.” And that was the truth, but it also meant it was rare for Dorian to have any kind of real connection with someone. “No one really wants me to open up to them. They like my looks. They want to own me.” He flicked a curl from his face and took another sip from his glass. “That’s all.”

“Gimme a break! I’ll get it right next time, just watch,” she replied without a lick of true defensiveness in her voice. She brought her own mug to her lips, nursing it to savor the warmth more than the taste. 

God she missed that. 

She arched a perfect brow at the question. “Isn’t it impolite to ask a woman her age?” she countered, purposefully deflecting just a moment longer. She wondered how old Natasha was. She hadn’t stopped to consider the years that had passed since their first run-in. Now, Natasha didn’t look old, but she certainly seemed to carry the weight of those years. Part of Sophia wondered if she’d have had the same tired look in her eyes had she been human.

She took a sip from her mug and set it down precisely on the table. 

“I’ll be fifty one in January.” 

Natasha clicked her tongue. “We’ll see.” She hid the broadening of her grin behind another sip of the terrible coffee. It wasn’t really as bad as she made it out to be, but neither was it among the good coffee she’d had in her life. ”I could always make it next time,” she offered with a casual shrug of one shoulder.

The assassin snorted, easily spotting the deflection. She wouldn’t press the matter if Sophia didn’t want to tell her, but Natasha couldn’t deny her curiosity. “Not if one is another woman herself.” She set her cup down and turned it lazily on the table between them as she watched the vampire. Sophia could certainly ask her the same question. With a considerably watered down version of the super soldier serum running through her own veins, she was older than she looked as well, but most people didn’t realize that. 

“Cheap compliments will get you nowhere, Rogers,” Bucky tried to warn but even as Bucky was saying the words, his will was being quickly eroded by the way Steve’s hands caressed him. Bucky wanted to hate how easily he could be manipulated by Steve but he couldn’t bring himself to put the effort into that kind of negativity. Instead he started to plot ways Steve could make up for this minor inconvenience of leaving the house for a quick mission.

“If I go with you,” Bucky started, pausing to pass the tip of his tongue over his lips, acting if there was still a possibility he wasn’t going to go with Steve. Of course he was going. Someone had to watch out for the idiot jerk who Bucky loved with his whole being so it might as well be him. “If I go, you owe me. You hear me? You will actually owe me and I can call in that favour whenever I want with no complaining out of you.”

“No? You sure, sweetheart?” He smiled sweetly at the other man and gave his butt a playful squeeze. It was cruel, he supposed, to tease Bucky like this. Granted, he wasn’t teasing, exactly, but Steve realized he was using their addiction to one another to get what he wanted. Really, thought, it would be an easy mission and he wanted Bucky out there with him. If he got to feel up the man he loved a little bit while convincing him, then why not? 

Sophia pursed her lips when he mentioned SHIELD. She was well aware the agency hadn’t been tied to any one government, per say, but it had certainly had its own agenda. Her previous line of work had taught her to read between the lines of everything, and while she hadn’t known much about SHIELD before the files had been released to the web, reading through them after had not left her surprised to see the corruption that had been within. She’d been a part of a similar form of corruption at one point, after all. Everyone had a motive. Especially therapists for secret organizations, or so she’d think.  

She didn’t say any of those things, though. “I don’t see anything wrong with letting yourself find peace in what you know,” she countered. “I can’t imagine the shock you must have felt. A little bit of home is good.” She could of mentioned how some of the older vampires she knew still kept to certain ways from past decades– even centuries, at times. The balls, the ways they decorated their homes… But she didn’t. He didn’t need to know everything just yet, and that conversation would open up a can of worms she was not in the least bit prepared for.  

Sophia ran a hand along the back of her neck in thought. She was thankful for his consideration, but she didn’t mind answering the question. At least in vague terms. “I lost my parents young,” she said. “The people that took me in weren’t the best equipped for raising a kid.” It was one of the reasons why she was so protective of the teens that came to her group, so thorough in making sure they had someone to listen to them. “It leaves a mark, you know. Even after time has passed.” 

She let a breath of a laugh fall at his apology. “Better late than never, right? It’s fine. Really. We’ve had a lot to deal with while we’re there…” She fiddled with the roll of silverware in front of her. “I’m finishing up my residency there. I’m a psychiatrist… Well, going to be.”  

He caught the look on Sophia’s face when he mentioned SHIELD and Steve couldn’t help the weary smile that pulled at his lips. He’d hated them, too. He’d hated working at SHIELD, hated what he did there. Steve had never been a spy. After discovering that HYDRA had been running the show for so long, it only made more sense that he’d hated it so damned much. He knew the shrinks that had been working there had had their own agendas. Or rather, they’d had Fury’s agenda. 

“I think they were afraid I would have a meltdown. Go Hulk-crazy on the world.” Steve’s gaze dropped to the menu and he chewed on his lip for a moment. “When I first came out of the ice, they sent me upstate. Bruce had a place up there, property was fenced in and the cabin was supposed to be Hulk-proof.” He snorted to himself at the memory and shook his head, glancing back up at Sophia. “Kinda figured out right then that they probably weren’t the best people to listen to. I don’t know what they thought I’d get out of being locked up by myself like that.” He shrugged. “Eventually I just stopped going to those appointments.”

Steve tilted his head, heart aching for Sophia as she told him of her loss. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He knew what it was like to grow up without his Pop around, but he’d been lucky because he’d had Ma, and she had been an incredible parent. Sara Rogers had been a damned saint. He nodded. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds like they say. Sometimes there are scars left behind. Nothin’ you can do about it.” One could move on, certainly, but the scars would always be there.

Cecily couldn’t claim to hold HYDRA in high regard. They were a grandiose, superfluous organization that never quite seemed to know exactly the level of power with which they were dealing. Her father had sent her here under the laughable pretense that he may be entertaining the notion of granting vampire blood to enhance human armies. 

It was not a good idea. That, at least, was something the father and daughter could agree on– perhaps among one of the only things. 

But whether Vlad’s mind was already made up or not was not the issue here. He’d needed more information, and with Cecily’s years of experience in the realm of the supernatural and science, he’d called upon his only daughter to hear what Strucker had to say and ensure they knew his full intentions.

It was a whisper that caught her senses, distracting her– which was not a hard feat given the current conversation– from the topic at hand. She’d heard the pulses already, though she’d assumed they were simply more workers out and about in the facility until she’d heard those words. 

She turned her head as Strucker continued on down his latest rabbit hole, ears pricking as she listened hard to the heartbeats that accompanied the hushed words…

“We should warn her,” Pietro whispered.

“I don’t think she needs to be warned,” Wanda mused in return. She straightened suddenly, going tense when the woman- the vampire turned in her direction. Her heartbeat quickened and her fingers tingled as her power danced through them, ready to lash out and protect if the vampire proved to be a threat in any way. Wanda tilted her head, eyes glowing the same crimson as her hands as she reached out to the vampire’s mind, seeking out her intentions.

“What are you doing?” her brother hissed. “She can see you. You should not let her know your powers.” He was dancing on his toes, though, ready for a fight if it should come to it. Pietro was always protective of her, had been so since they were too young to truly understand the dangers of the world. Those dangers were more and more obvious the longer they remained with HYDRA. 

The fact that vampires existed? Though shocking, neither twin was truly as surprised as they should have been. Their worlds had changed all the more as their powers had developed. 

For the briefest of seconds, Reagan’s smirk slipped from her face. And she thought of Ryder, and how she would’ve not only pawned the MRE off on him, but she would’ve recorded his reaction, too. She pushed that to the back of her mind, smirk reappearing as she said, “He’ll definitely taste this. And you can only have it back if I get to watch.” As for sharing her cheese puffs… Reagan didn’t share food. Not often, anyway. She had sort of separated herself from everyone in the Underground. Her powers sucked, so she did the most basic jobs that she could to help out or she stayed out of everyone’s way. But this was the most she’d really talked to anyone in a while, and hey, it didn’t suck, so , “…Yeah, okay - but it stays between us. You tell anyone, and it’s beef taco for the rest of your Underground life.”

“Not if they know what’s good for ‘em.” 

He kind of liked the way she kept asking him for reassurance. Whether she knew it or not, it reinforced that he held the power in the situation. Truth be told, no one would look twice at Anne and think she was a stripper. They’d just be fixated on the beautiful woman on his arm, wonder where he’d found her… What his intentions were– at least any vampire in the room would be wondering that last bit. 

He so rarely took personal donors out and about– Not that he was at that point with Anne yet. Tonight was an opportunity for her to make some money as an escort, a different sort of job than sneaking information during a lap dance. Anything else beyond that was still yet to be seen. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be savoring her scent whenever she stepped close enough, or enjoying the flutter of her pulse when he could… 

The party was being held in an art museum filled with pretentious oil paintings done by pretentious people he didn’t care about. But Vlad had sponsored one of the paintings to be brought from Europe to display here, and as such, the family had been issued an invitation. Right-hand men were expected to be here… and Henry was nothing if not that. A beautiful woman on his arm was essential. 

Truth be told, he understood the feeling Anne was experiencing in his own way. Money like this had been as foreign to him as a full stomach when he was her age– before the turn, before any notion of the life he was to lead had ever been presented to him. He liked who he was now decidedly better. No one looked at him like he didn’t belong. They saw the Teppes crest on his hand, saw his expensive suit… and knew better than to think of him as anything other than powerful. It didn’t matter that it was an image rotting on the inside. 

“You ever been to this museum before, Skye?” 

Was it protectiveness behind his words or a warning to anyone who might question the kind of partner this man would choose to have on his arm? Anne wasn’t sure, but regardless of the meaning behind those words, she felt a warm in her stomach and relaxed a little. She even moved a little closer, leaning into Henry’s side as they made their way into the museum. Anne had never been there before, but she was fascinated the moment they stepped inside. It was beautifully decorated, and the art. Oh, the art was incredible.

The look on her face surely answered Henry’s question. Still, with a smile on her painted lips, Anne shook her head, gazing with wide eyes at the first painting they neared. Her nervousness was forgotten for the moment, awkwardness melted away with the nearness to one who was so utterly confident in his own place there and her interest in all there was to be seen. “Never,” she answered quietly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Okay. I mean, if you’re sure…” Even after Matthew told her that she looked lovely, her cheeks heating at the compliment, she insisted, “Just… Just one second.” She reached into her duffel bag for a clean, less wrinkled flannel, slipping into the attached bathroom to change. When she reappeared, she not only had it on, but she’d taken the tie out of her hair - a rarity - leaving her long blonde mane down in soft waves. “All right, all set.”

As she started to follow him, Matthew explained that everyone was excited to meet her, and her brow furrowed in confusion, “Why? You didn’t… Did you tell them about who I am?” He wouldn’t do that, would he? That would be insane - make both of them look insane. And who exactly was she meeting? Neighbors? Friends of the family? Either way… She felt nervous. She wasn’t used to doing anything like this anymore, the people she met were at the motel front desk, or waitresses at diners, or supernatural creatures intent on killing her. This… This was normal. Something from her past life - no pun intended - and she felt not only ridiculously out of practice, but ridiculously out of place as well.

“Oh, alright,” he sighed, attempting to feign impatience despite the warm smile playing on his lips. Matthew watched Cara slip into the bathroom, reveling in heat that had risen to her cheeks, the way her heart beat a little quicker. She was utterly wonderful. And she returned quickly, too, drawing his gaze to her the second the door was open. Her hair was down and Matthew couldn’t help reaching out to brush his fingertips through a few of the outer strands, marveling at how soft it was. “Perfect,” he murmured.