Sil

A week later, Creius gets a date from Name Day when he'll arrive, and passes that knowledge onto his squad before filling out the forms that'll give them that weekend off, telling them they will need to work hard to get on top of their work so that the Foundation approves the request—within reason, he makes sure to say, fixing Paravyan with a look that hopefully tells the young man to not work himself into a bout of sickness just to play some games all weekend. Because he's been told that's what's happening, and Creius resigns himself to that fate.

Marsha is the one who looks the most excited though, eager to try all the games she's never heard of and learn all about then, and her eagerness helps to boost productivity as the rest of the squad focuses on their work. Even Yermolai's been nagged into doing his share of the paperwork, commandeering one side of Creius' desk because his own is just that cluttered, but spends the entire time grumbling about it. Creius, after what must've been the thirtieth complaint, snaps that he'll supply alcohol to this little games night only if Yermolai shuts up.

Yermolai does, the bribe sufficient enough to put a pleased smile on his face.

In the end, their request for the weekend gets approved, and before Creius knows it, it's the day before, when Name Day is scheduled to arrive at the main branch, and Creius decides to meet Name Day down in the lobby. He's ridiculously early, and catches a few strange looks as he slowly paces about, waiting, before Name Day finally enters the building and Creius hurries over to greet him.

Name Day smiles upon seeing him, following through with a hug that allows Creius to slide the pack from his shoulder and sling it over his own. He returns the embrace before walking alongside his love and listening to him begin to tell them about the journey here; apparently being stuck in a car with some Foundation worker he doesn't get along with leads to a level of exhaustion that Creius can heavily relate to and he smiles before putting an arm around Name Day's shoulders as they head towards the elevator.

"What have you got in here?" Creius asks when he gets a chance to break through Name Day's rambling, curious what could make a pack weigh so much in the first place.

"Games," Name Day gives him an odd look, "like you asked me to."

Creius frowns, "well, yes, but it's heavy."

"Because they are boardgames, Creius, some of them can be quite heavy." Name Day says, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "At least, the one Paravyan asked me to bring are. I hope you know what you are getting into with them."

"I don't. I think he and Merel take great joy in playing games I have never heard of, mostly because it means they aren't the first to lose to Yermolai."

Name Day chuckles, "I take it Yermolai's one of those people that is really good with games."

"You would be correct," Creius sighs, recalling just how many times he's lost to the man over the years. No matter what kind of game, whether it be card or board, Yermolai seems to have a talent for mastering it within minutes, and is more than willing to use that newfound talent to beat the rest of them into the ground without any mercy. "Perhaps you would like to join us?"

Name Day looks apologetic as he shakes his head, "I can't, I'll be heading over to Laplace to see what Hissabeth's been working on, and X has asked for my help in testing one of his new machines."

"How long are you visiting?" Creius asks, wondering if he'll get any time to hang out with Name Day while he's here.

"A couple of weeks," Name Day says, smiling as he bumps his shoulder against Creius' arm, "we will have time together, don't worry. Are you working today?"

"I'm supposed to be, but I promised Yermolai I'd go buy drinks for the weekend, so I was going to do that today."

Name Day is silent a moment before he suggests, "I could come with you?"

Creius appreciates the offer and he nearly accepts it, but then he takes note of the exhaustion in Name Day's face and shakes his head, "you should rest, Hissabeth won't take kindly if you fall asleep during this test. I won't be gone long anyways."

"Okay," Name Day says, a yawn breaking through as they step out onto XII squad's floor which is devoid of its members, and Creius makes his way to the common room to drop Name Day's pack onto the ground.

"Are you going to rest here?" Creius asks, watching Name Day open the pack and begin to rummage through it, withdrawing several boardgames that show signs of wear and tear to put them on the table.

"I will sleep in my own room today, and yours tomorrow if that is alright?"

Creius nods, "you know you are welcome always, even if I'm not here."

A comfortable silence lapses between them then as Name Day finishes unpacking the games and closes his pack. He stands and turns to Creius, stepping close and rising up to give him a gentle kiss, arms winding around his shoulders. "I have missed you."

"And I have missed you as well," Creius murmurs, holding Name Day close before they eventually break away from each other. He thanks Name Day for delivering the games as he leaves, and wishes him a good time with his friends for later, and once his love his gone, he takes a seat on the couch; there's still more than enough time in the day for him to venture out and acquire alcohol, and perhaps if he reads the rulebooks of some of the games before they play them, he might not lose so badly.

"That's so not fair!" Paravyan yells the next night, as Yermolai grins at him, waiting for the younger to hand over most of the money in front of him.

"Suddenly my go broke fast strategy ain't such a bad idea, eh?" Yermolai's grin widens when Paravyan slams several paper bills into his waiting hand.

Creius is just glad it wasn't him that landed on one of Yermolai's properties, having followed the man's strategy and acquired a third of the board early on. Monopoly is one of the few games he does know how to play and considers himself somewhat skilled at it. Paravyan though… not so much, but considering he's still on the board, unlike Merel and Marsha who both landed on Yermolai's most expensive property and went bankrupt, he's not doing too badly.

But from the looks of it, bankruptcy is coming for him too.

It's his turn to grin as Yermolai takes his turn and manages to land on one of his properties and although it's not the most expensive property, the rest of the properties in this row all belong to him, and Yermolai's scowl as he pays up, tells him exactly what he thinks of that. "Thank you, Yermolai."

"Go fuck yourself," Yermolai growls, lifting his beer to his lips and drinking a few mouthfuls. The words aren't malicious, and Creius' smile widens as he takes his turn… and gets sent to jail.

Again.

"I don't know if you have bad luck or good luck, that's like, the third time you've gone to jail," Paravyan says, reaching for the dice.

"It's the fourth time actually," Merel says, snacking on some of the sweets Creius had brought back with him. "Yermolai, hurry up and bankrupt them, Marsha and I are getting bored."

"I'm trying," Yermolai snaps in exasperation, "Paravyan'll go bust next place he lands on anyway."

"I will not!" Comes the indignant reply.

Only for exactly that to happen as Paravyan lands on one of Creius' properties.

Creius sips at his own drink, also beer, and says, "pay up."

Paravyan sighs, and hands the last of his money to Creius, giving the few meagre properties he's clung to back to the bank. Creius scowls at that, considering Yermolai's not in jail and can snap up the properties by the time Creius gets out of it.

"Oi, finish your drink," Yermolai says, nudging Paravyan's bottle to him, "you lose, you drink."

Paravyan narrows his eyes at the man and without breaking eye contact, chugs the rest of his drink—unfortunate considering he just opened it. He shudders and stands, "does anyone else need a new one?"

"I do," Marsha calls, holding up her empty bottle and Paravyan takes it from her.

The game continues for another hour before Creius somehow manages to come out on top, a series of bad rolls causing Yermolai to land on several properties of his in a row, and it takes a moment for the win to set in. It's not until Paravyan and Merel throw themselves at him, thanking him for not letting Yermolai continue his win streak that he accepts it and he smiles at Yermolai. He gets a scowl in return before it gives way to a grin and Yermolai tells him good job.

They all take a moment to stretch their legs before they return to the common room and pick their next game, and since Marsha is the one who wanted to try the games, they let her pick them. This time she picks out one of the games that Name Day brought over, some camel game that Creius barely understands, but admits looks quite fun. Since he read the rule book earlier, he leans back in his seat and watches the rest of his squad read over it together, and finishes off the rest of his drink.

He's just getting up to grab a new one for himself when his communicator starts beeping from the table.

"Want me to answer it?" Yermolai calls even as he reaches for and answers it, and Creius sighs, grabbing a new drink and making his way back to his spot on the couch, hearing X's voice filter through the communicator.

"Your boyfriend is trying to kill me with affection, please come and get him."

Creius blinks, and feels the rest of his squad turning to look at him, unsure of what he's just heard. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," X repeats slowly, "is drunk, and—"

"Creius!" Name Day's cheerful voice cuts X off, and from the way he slurs Creius' name, he's very drunk, and Name Day's next words confirm it, "I'm a bit drunk I think."

"You think?" X snaps in annoyance, "no, get off me, go hang off Hissabeth if you need someone to cling to!"

A voice faintly filters through that sounds like Hissabeth's, her words undiscernable but sounding vaguely like a very strong refusal.

Creius finds himself more amused than worried, and he can hear Yermolai fighting back laughter of his own from beside him. "I'll come get him."

Name Day gasps, suddenly sounding very overjoyed, "you are coming to see me?"

"Yes," Creius says as he stands, "I won't be long, so just—"

"I'll come and meet you!" Name Day yells, even though Creius can hear him just fine and he hears X give a panicked shout of Name Day, wait—before there's an awful crashing sound.

X sighs, "he's fine, just took out the table… and our drinks. Medicine Pocket is laughing at him. Just get here, I can only wrangle so many drunk people at once."

Creius confirms he'll hurry over before disconnecting the call and sighs.

"Sounds like you're in for a treat," Yermolai laughs, "loverboy sounded so delighted by his dutiful boyfriend going to pick him up."

"I shouldn't be gone long," Creius says glaring at Yermolai before he looks to the rest of the squad and continues, "but feel free to play the game without me."

"We can play some cards while we wait for you," Marsha says and Yermolai is quick to grab the deck of cards that haven't been touched yet.

Creius is almost certain that by the time he gets back, his team is going to be teetering on drunken territory, but he doesn't say anything. Tonight is about having fun, and once he collects Name Day and returns, he intends to rejoin them. Reminded of X's words to come quick, Creius sets off at a fast pace towards Laplace, wondering just what he's going to be walking in on when he gets there. From the sounds of it, Name Day and his friends have had a good time, drinking—and Creius assumes, celebrating—and he really does hope that his love has enjoyed himself. He deserves the chance to have some fun, even if it winds up with him getting a little bit drunk.

The moment Creius steps into the meeting room that's been turned into a party room, Creius swears off ever attending a Laplace function. There's music blaring from somewhere, and most of—if not all—the researchers in attendance are drunk. Or passed out, he amends as he sees one researcher curled up in the corner, dead asleep. Creius looks about for any familiar faces and spots Medicine Pocket and Hissabeth in the midst of making out with each other, and quickly looks away to see X by one of the couches, his own face flushed with drink, but in the midst of trying to tackle a squirming Name Day with a cloth, the mess of broken wood and spilled drinks indicative as to what's happened. Creius' lips twitch upwards in amusement and he slips past a group of Laplace staff that stumble into his path and makes his way towards the two.

Name Day spots him first, and his reddened face lights up, "Creius!"

He only gets a few seconds before Name Day leaps at him, and grunts as the man collides with him, arms winding around his neck, and quickly slides his own underneath Name Day's thighs to stop the man from dragging them both to the floor. Creius can smell the alcohol, both in Name Day's breath as his love presses a messy kiss to his cheek, and in the clothes that were no doubt the victim of his collision with the table. He shifts Name Day up to get a better grip and staggers back as Name Day attempts to flop over his shoulder instead.

"As you can see, he's very drunk," X says, amused now that he's not the victim of Name Day's need to cling. "I tried cleaning him up a bit, but he'll probably need a shower."

"I ran into the table!" Name Day exclaims loudly and Creius winces at the volume as he shouts right next to his ear.

"I can see that," Creius says and then asks X, "how much did he drink?"

The young man claps his hands together, "look, I'm going to be honest, we stopped counting when the shots started happening. A lot? If he's not hungover tomorrow, I'll be impressed."

Creius nods and then glances about the room, "do you… need a hand?"

X's mouth quirks up, "I think you've got your hands full enough already. Don't worry about us, it's not the first party we've held where everyone ends up drunk."

"Okay, and thank you for calling," Creius says and X waves and turns to leave, and of course, Name Day notices.

"Wait, X, come here!" Name Day slurs, trying to lean towards the researcher and Creius fights to keep him from falling out of his arms. X sighs but steps back over towards them, and Name Day drops a hand onto his head, ruffling silver hair with a gentleness that begets his drunken state. "You have a good night, 'kay?"

"You too," X says and manages to leave without Name Day calling after him, and Creius takes the chance to leave before his love's attention is caught by anything else.

The moment they leave the room, Name Day seems to settle, dropping his head to the crook of Creius' neck and letting his arms hang over Creius' shoulders as he starts to drunkenly murmur words that Creius can't understand. He lets out a fond huff as they leave Laplace behind and begin to head back, and after several minutes, he tries to convince Name Day to walk in order to give his arms a break, but Name Day refuses, tightening his grip on Creius and whining about how he's comfortable and that he's too tired now. Too tired to do what exactly, Creius doesn't find out as Name Day slips into Russian and continues speaking, and he sighs, resigning himself to carrying Name Day the entire way back.

They're almost back when Creius feels it's safe to ask, "did you have a good time?"

Name Day hums against his neck, "yeah, Hissabeth's experiment was a success. She is very proud so we celebrated, had fun, lots of alcohol."

"And you feel okay?" Creius has to ask, just to be sure Name Day won't suddenly jump from his currently joyful state into one that's more morose.

"I'm fine," Name Day lifts his head and smacks it against Creius' cheek, and he can feel the smile that's on it, "I did shots with Medicine Pocket and Windsong—they thought they could out drink me, but I showed them."

Creius thinks back on who he saw in the room and doesn't recall seeing the ley line researcher, "I didn't see Windsong there."

"She left early," Name Day lifts a hand and pats Creius on the cheek, "she has to go back to Plesetsk tomorrow, but she was there early to congratulate Hissabeth. Pointer was too, but she disappeared partway through—and Kiperina's too young to drink, so she wasn't there but we nearly had a reunion of the Plesetsk gang. It was nice. I wanna see them again. It would be nice to have another warm meal together."

"I'm sure you will," Creius says, "perhaps you can organise one later?"

Name Day throws himself upright so fast that Creius has to stop walking in case he loses his balance, which gives Name Day the perfect opportunity to slap his hands against his cheeks, and Creius flinches a little at how hard he's hit. But then Name Day is kissing him, and all Creius can taste is whatever alcohol his love has consumed tonight and, well, it's not the best kiss he's had. "You are a genius, Crieus! I will plan a lunch!"

"Tomorrow, plan it tomorrow," Creius says quickly, "when you've sobered up. Rest for now."

"Okay," Name Day says and in an instant, goes limp and Creius has to quickly look to make sure he hasn't passed out, but no, Name Day is just… taking his words literally.

Creius waits a moment before he continues walking, and within minutes, soft snores start up and he rolls his eyes, more amused than anything, and takes a second to shift Name Day up in his arms again as he sleeps. Now that he's not moving about, it's easier to walk, and Creius finds it warms his heart to know that Name Day feels safe enough to literally fall asleep in his arms. It still astounds him sometimes that out of everyone that Name Days knows and could've loved instead, he chose to love Creius.

Part if him still waits for the day it all comes crashing down around him, but with each obstacle they cross together, and with the more time that passes, that fear eases. It'll never go away, not unless a lot of things suddenly go right—which they won't—but the feeling will lessen, and compared to how he was before he ever met Name Day, he likes to think he's changed a little.

Even if it doesn't really feel like it.

He returns to see the rest of his squad are still playing cards, but it seems like they've moved on from poker to Go Fish of all games. They all look up at him as he enters eyes fixating on the sleeping Name Day in his arms, and predictably, Yermolai bursts into laughter.

"Please tell me he didn't make you carry him the entire way."

"He did," Creius says and looks between his team, taking note of how red-faced Paravyan is, and that Merel looks seconds from falling asleep. Yermolai, too, has a flush to his face, but Marsha's cheeks are dusted pink like Creius' own. "Are you all still wanting to play that game?"

Marsha is quick to nod, gesturing to the board that's been set up since before he left, "of course, are you going to put Name Day to bed first?"

"Yes," Creius then spots the drink he'd abandoned to go pick up Name Day, "can one of you put that back in the fridge for me?"

"Ah just get yourself a new one, I'll drink that one," Yermolai says and reaches for the room temperature bottle, cracking it open and sipping it.

"Do you need a hand, sir?" Paravyan asks, red-faced and bright eyed. Clearly he's been losing at cards.

Creius shakes his head and walks towards his room, "I'll manage," he stops outside the door, "actually you can open the door for me at least."

Paravyan leaps to his feet, trips over them, but manages to stay on them as he comes to help, opening the door to Creius' room for him, and Creius steps inside, beelining straight for the bed. Carefully, he lowers Name Day to the bed and runs into his first problem; Name Day won't let go of him.

"Name Day, please," Creius borderline begs as he tries to get Name Day's arms to let go of his neck, but the man's grip only tightens and threatens to drag him down. After a couple of minutes, he manages to pry them off him and begins the process of getting Name Day ready for bed. Since Creius doesn't want to trek all the way to Name Day's room for spare clothes, he settles for grabbing some of his own. He realises that after tonight, they and his sheets will probably reek of alcohol, but there's nothing to do about it. Giving Name Day a shower is an option, but it risks waking him and Creius would rather avoid that right now. It continues to become tempting when he strips Name Day out of his clothes and finds him dead to the world entirely, limps flopping this way and that, and generally being uncooperative in the way that deadweight is. But he manages to get one of his sweaters over Name Day's head and thread his arms through without too much trouble. Then he looks to Name Day's legs and the pants he'd grabbed and decides he doesn't want to wager that battle. They'd be far too big on him anyway.

Instead he peers out the door of his room and calls, "Paravyan, can I borrow some shorts?"

"Yep! Give me a minute!" Paravyan yells back and Creius slips back into his room to wait. It doesn't take long for Paravyan to come, shorts in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other. Paravyan holds them both out to him, "I figured he might need some water when he wakes up."

"Thanks," Creius sets the water on the bedside table and works on getting the shorts on Name Day. Without a word, Paravyan steps forward to help him, and together they finish getting Name Day dressed and tucked under the covers.

"Do you think he might need a bucket?" Paravyan asks.

"Can't hurt." Creius says and soon there's a bucket beside the bed, just in case.

For a moment Creius stands there and watches Name Day sleep before he murmurs a quiet good night and follows Paravyan out of his room. He leaves the door cracked open, just in case Name Day wakes and wonders where he is.

Creius has no intention of going to bed yet, not when he and his squad still have games to play. He stops to grab himself a fresh drink—two actually, and drinks half of the first one in one go before he returns to his seat.

"I heard from Regulus that Laplace parties are chaotic, is she right?" Merel asks the moment he sits back down.

"Yes, she's correct," Creius says, "it was… loud. But they were having fun."

"Good, now let's get this game on the road, I want to build a camel empire." Yermolai claps his hands together.

Paravyan sighs from next to him, "we're not building an army, we're building caravans."

"Basically the same thing."

"No it's not!"

"Stop riling him up, Yermolai," Creius warns, grabbing the rulebook to refresh his memory.

"Ugh, but it's fun when he's drunk, he gets so red."

Creius points a finger at the older man, "he's drunk because you played drinking games while I was gone."

"Only a few," Marsha says and then glances apologetically at Paravyan, "but Paravyan did lose most of them."

Paravyan pouts, "I'm not drunk. Just tipsy."

Merel raises an eyebrow, "that's what drunk people say, Paravyan."

As his squad bickers around him, Creius focuses on reading, and when their voices start to get a little too loud, he slaps the rulebook against the table and is pleased when it falls silent immediately. With all the eyes on him, he smiles, "let's play."

The camel game is simple enough to play once they find the rhythm, but a lot shorter than Monopoly was so it takes them less than an hour to finish up, with Marsha being the one to lose first this time and go through the penalty of finishing her drink. They cycle through a few of the shorter games for a time; Guess Who, Snakes and Ladders, a few rounds of Battleship, and even Trouble, before Paravyan picks up one of the heavier boxes and smacks it against the table, and there's groans from both Creius and Yermolai, both of them recalling the many late nights back in the Vigiles Bureau in which Paravyan had begged them to play this game. It's his favourite game, and Creius doesn't mind playing it, but Diplomacy takes hours to get through. He can understand why Paravyan wants to play it though; the younger's been on a losing streak the past few games, and he knows he won't lose at this one.

"We ain't gonna finish this tonight, I hope you know." Yermolai says.

"We'll take notes, come back in the morning." Paravyan says and then lets his eyes go wide, turning them onto Yermolai to achieve the full effect of getting the man to give in to him.

It works, although Yermolai scowls as he helps empty the box of all its pieces. Creius just watches in amusement.

"He certainly knows how to get what he wants." Marsha says with a quiet laugh.

"It's what makes him so good at the game," Creius says and grabs the rulebook to hand it to her, "here, it's a little hard to understand at first, but not terribly so."

"All you need to know is how to stand up to Paravyan's ability to wring you for everything you own." Merel says, no doubt remembering the last time the game was played where Paravyan formed an alliance with her and then backstabbed her a few turns later to become the strongest player.

"I'll keep that in mind," Marsha says as she begins to read.

In the end, they only get as far as setting the game up. Merel falls asleep by the time they're ready to play, and Paravyan's eyes are starting to close where he's sitting, so Creius calls it a night and promises they can pick up tomorrow when Paravyan starts to complain he can keep going. Creius just gives him a look, and Paravyan sighs before he stands and pitches to the side, almost knocking Yermolai from his chair.

"Yeah, you're going to bed," Yermolai rises and gets an arm beneath Paravyan's, walking the drunken man to his room.

Creius decides to leave Merel where she is and goes to grab a blanket and pillow to cover her with before turning to Marsha, "will you be alright?"

"Oh, yes," Marsha says and stands without a problem, "it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk."

Creius nods, "well, goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Creius." Marsha murmurs and heads to her own room, and Creius lingers in the common room to tidy up a bit before returning to his own.

Name Day is exactly where he left him, still snoring and deep in sleep, which means Creius has no trouble climbing over him to slip into the bed on Name Day's other side. He shuffles close to his love, and loops an arm about his waist, and Name Day lets out a content sound between snores. Creius buries his face into the back of Name Day's neck, the coolness of his skin soothing to his warm face, and pressed a soft kiss there before settling in to sleep.

When Creius wakes up at… whatever hour it is, the space in front of him is empty and he sits up quickly only to discover that Name Day definitely isn't anywhere in his room. The water on the bedside table has been emptied though, the bottle sitting there as proof of its consumption. Then he hears quiet voices just outside his door and lays back down, recognising one of them as Name Day's and sure enough, his love enters the room with a small plate of fruit and another bottle of water, looking rather fine for someone who was very drunk only several hours ago. Unlike Creius, who despite only drinking a few drinks, feels a distinct throbbing at the back of his head that makes him reluctant to get up.

Name Day stops upon seeing him awake and smiles, stabbing one of the pieces of fruit with his knife and offering it out to him. "Would you like some?"

"In a bit," Creius says and sits up in the bed, "who were you talking to?"

"Marsha. We were helping Paravyan clean up a bit," Name Day's expression turns to one of amusement, "he's very much regretting his life choices right now."

Creius sighs and makes a note to check on the man later, "maybe he'll learn some moderation now."

"He is young, let him make those mistakes," Name Day says and sits on the edge of the bed, sitting the ate between them so he can eat the piece of apple he's speared. "Did you all have a good night?"

"I believe so. We got through a few games, and Paravyan wanted to play Diplomacy before we stopped, so we might wind up doing that today." Creius says and then runs his eyes over Name Day, "how are you feeling?"

Name Day blushes immediately and he turns away, "I am fine, but perhaps a little embarrassed."

"So you remember me carrying you?"

"Partially. I mostly remember throwing myself at anyone that would let me hug them," Name Day says, "it gets a little foggy after you came to pick me up."

Creius smirks, "do you remember taking out the table?"

"Yes." Name Day groans, dropping his head into his hands, "I am never going to live that down."

Creius chuckles and reaches for the plate, popping a piece of apple into his own mouth before leaning across Name Day to place it on the table. He hears the confused sound before it turns into a yelp as Creius pulls Name Day down beside him, and Name Day flails about before managing to twist himself until he's straddling Creius, and he shakes his head fondly. "Really?"

"You said you were helping X today, I want to take as much time as I can get." Creius says.

"You just want to look at me because I'm wearing your clothes." Name Day leans down until the tips of their noses brush against each other.

"Perhaps," Creius murmurs and his eyes slip shut as Name Day kisses him. Like the previous kiss, he can still taste the alcohol that Name Day drunk on his lips, but it's less potent this time and Creius leans up into it, moving his hands to grip Name Day's thighs. When the kiss ends, he asks, "what did you even drink last night?"

"Gin mostly, among other things. Why?"

"Just wondering what it is I can taste."

Name Day smiles, "let me help with that," he says and kisses Creius again, slowly, gently, and Creius sighs into it, parting his lips slightly, wishing for it to never end.

But when it does, Creius slides his hands back up to rest on Name Day's back, "still unclear, it all just tastes like alcohol to me."

Name Day laughs against his lips and then kisses the corner of his mouth, "insatiable."

"Am I?"

"Very," Name Day says and then much more quietly, "we could—"

A knock interrupts whatever he was about to say and they both groan.

"What?" Creius calls.

Paravyan's voice comes through the door, slightly muffled, "you promised we could play Diplomacy after we slept!"

"Five minutes!" Creius shouts and sighs once he hears Paravyan walk away, "I'm going to end whoever showed him that game."

"It is okay, I will be back tomorrow and have plenty of time," Name Day promises, giving one more kiss before sliding off him.

Creius sits up and cups Name Day's cheek, pressing his lips to his brow, "tomorrow then. After I demolish my squad in these games."

"More like they demolish you," Name Day teases, and Creius scowls before smacking his love with a pillow, and the room fills with laughter.

The next morning, they set out just after sunrise, and Paravyan was just glad that he wasn't the one driving. He'd had a poor night's rest, stressed over the coming job, so he was sitting in the backseat, listening to Yermolai and Creius bicker in the front seats—mostly about Yermolai's inability to dodge the pot holes in the road. His head rested on Merel's shoulder as he tried to doze, Marsha on the girls other side, looking out the window at the scenery, and Paravyan decided it felt strange to have them all in the same vehicle. Usually they split into two or three, depending on who was accompanying them, but the higher ups at the Australian Branch had said they had only a limited number of transports, and that they'd have to make do with one of the SUVs and a truck for the supplies.

Creius had certainly tried to get them another vehicle to drive, but his stubbornness was nothing compared to the person in charge.

Which was why, as the two tallest members of the team, they'd commandeered the front seats. For leg room, Yermolai had said, even as he glared at Creius about having to be the one to drive. Paravyan had just stood there with Merel and Marsha as Creius explained they'd switch drivers half way, only to find himself dragged into the argument when Yermolai questioned why he couldn't drive them. Or Marsha—even Merel.

"Merel isn't old enough by the laws here, and I don't think Marsha can drive—"

"I cannot, but I can learn." Marsha murmured, so quiet only Merel and Paravyan could hear the comment.

"—and would you want Paravyan behind the wheel?"

Paravyan pressed his lips together, "I don't know whether to be offended by that or not."

"The last time you drove, Paravyan, you totalled the car." Merel deadpanned, giving him the most unimpressed look she could manage.

Marsha looked intrigued, "how did you manage that?"

Paravyan sighed, "there was a dog in the road, I didn't want to hit it."

"He didn't want to hit the dog, so he decided hitting a tree was better," Merel said and then added, "the next time was a cat, and an even bigger tree, and the third time—"

"Thank you, Merel," Paravyan said through gritted teeth. Beside him, Marsha was smiling in amusement.

"I think Creius might be right in keeping you from the wheel."

And that was how they ended up in the current predicament.

Paravyan grumbled as Yermolai hit yet another pothole, lifting his head just enough to glare at the back of his teammates skull before dropping it back against Merel's shoulder. He felt her shift slightly, sitting up more in the seat, but moving carefully as if she were being mindful to not disturb him, and listened as she and Marsha started up quiet conversation. Their conversation certainly helped to drown out the one coming from the front of the SUV, and Paravyan let his eyes fall shut, grunting as the vehicle drove over another hole in the road. Dammit, Yermolai, are you blind?

He must've fallen asleep at some point, because the next time Paravyan opened his eyes, he noticed it was quiet except for the thrum of the engine. Creius was in the driver's seat now, and Yermolai passed out in the passenger seat, snoring lightly. He could feel Merel's head on top of his own, and winced at the pain in his neck from the odd position he'd slept in. A quick glance showed that Marsha too, was asleep, head resting against the window, bobbing with each bump in the road. But no potholes. Carefully, Paravyan straightened, letting Merel's sleeping form fall against him as he rolled his neck this way and that to rid it of the ache.

Creius glanced at him through the mirror, "sleep well?"

Paravyan nodded and yawned, "how far away are we?"

"Another hour, should make it by mid-afternoon."

"Are we going to stay in the town and set out tomorrow then?" Paravyan asked.

Creius nodded, "it'll be safer that way. Feel free to rest some more if you need to."

Paravyan yawned again, "okay," and dropped his head against the window, closing his eyes yet again.

Paravyan had known Laplace researchers to be loud and eccentric, but as Ezra chattered at them about the dangers of the Daintree rainforest at a speed he could barely comprehend, he decided that the boy in front of them was by far, one of the most eccentric. Ezra was telling them about all the kinds of snakes they might encounter, the smile on his face a complete contrast to the topic at hand.

"The worst snakes are the death adder and the eastern brown, those can kill you very quickly—oh and the taipan and the red-bellied black, but a little less deadly if you ask me, but still plenty deadly. I've given Marsha antivenom though just in case you happen to encounter one and it goes badly, but it's potent stuff, so you'll still need to seek medical treatment," Ezra chattered, hands gesturing wildly, "and I believe you were told briefly about the plants? Just so long as you don't go leaning on trees or running through undergrowth you should be fine—ah, yes, and before I forget, if you hear something running through the forest and branches snapping, drop to the ground."

"Why?" Yermolai asked cautiously.

Ezra gave the man a confused look, "because it means a cassowary is coming and as big as you are, I don't think even your ribs will stand up to its crest. Better to be gored by its claws than have your bones splintered because it runs into you."

"I'm starting to think we just let nature take care of the Manus if they're here," Paravyan said, "I'm really not liking our chances anymore."

"We'll be fine," Creius growled, crossing his arms, and addressed the Laplace researcher, "is there anything else we need to know, Ezra?"

"Oh yeah," the boy nodded furiously, "be careful near the river itself, you won't see a saltie until it's leaping out at you and by then, it's too late to do anything. Once they getcha, they gotcha good."

"Is there any safe water?" Marsha asked.

"If there's a waterfall it's usually safe. And any clear water too, is your best bet." Ezra said and clapped his hands together, "good luck! I'm sure it'll be fine."

And then the boy was gone, leaving them all standing there.

"Right," Creius began, turning to face them, "we stick together like we discussed, until we reach the point where the arcane fluctuations were first recorded, and then we'll evaluate what to do next, understood?"

Paravyan nodded his agreement and the others all made similar motions before they set off. They had a long walk ahead of them and Paravyan could see the huge rainforest spread out before them, promising nothing but misery ahead of them. It was morning still—early morning even—and already it was hot. He could feel sweat prickling the back of his neck, strands of hair sticking to the damp skin, his uniform clinging to him uncomfortably. And if this was only a few minutes in the sun, he couldn't imagine what it was about to be like in a few hours.

As it turned out, it was pure misery.

Paravyan bit back a complaint as he tentatively stepped into the shallow creek they'd stumbled across, testing the stability of the sludge beneath his boot before he took his next step. He took another step, and another, looking up to study the branches of the trees in front of him before he reached out and grabbed one to pull himself out of the water. With a slow breath, he raised a hand and gestured for his teammates to follow, "it's safe!"

Yermolai came next, hair falling out of it's bun to stick to his head from sweat and a permanent scowl on his face as he joined Paravyan and then scaled the bank in front of them, nearly kicking Paravyan in the head. Merel was next, and Paravyan had to reach out a hand to grab her when she slipped, but she too, made it across.

And then there were two.

Paravyan watched as Marsha placed a hand on Creius' back, just as she had the past several creeks they'd trudged through, murmuring the same words she'd also spoken about how he wasn't going to drown in such shallow water, not if they had anything to say about it. And even so, it still took nearly a minute for Creius to cross the creek, and even through it was hardly necessary, Paravyan still offered a hand as support, tugging his leader the rest of the way to get him out of the water faster, and did the same for Marsha when she followed.

They'd been walking for hours now, and all of them were dirty, hot, and miserable. There was absolutely no airflow beneath the canopy of the rainforest they trudged through, and if they weren't on a job, Paravyan would've taken the time to take in his surroundings because it really wasn't a bad place. It was green, and quiet, and the breaks in the canopy where the sun broke through cast a shimmering light that dappled the forest floor. But right now, he could care less. He wanted to rest, and he wanted to be done before the humidity wound up killing him.

"How much further?" He asked as he climbed up the bank with a groan, grumbling under his breath when a stray branch tore at his pants, creating a small hole. Not only would he have to shower for a week to get rid of all the dirt, he would now have to fix his pants too.

Yermolai pulled out the map and unfolded it, updating their position on it first before showing it to the rest of them, "not much further, I reckon."

Creius nodded his agreement, pointing to a spot that wasn't too far from their current position, "the fluctuations were in this area. We could probably split up here and—" Creius suddenly broke off, slapping a hand against his neck, "—fucking mosquitos."

Paravyan huffed a laugh at that, brushing a hand against the back of his own neck in case any insects had decided to hitch a ride.

"As I was saying, we can split up now and start investigating the area. We'll go in a circlular pattern," Creius said, drawing a circle with two fingers to indicate a pincer manuvuer, "and meet up on the other side."

"Who's going with who?" Yermolai asked.

"Merel and Paravyan can go together, and you and I can go," Creius said and glanced over at Marsha, "flip a coin for who gets the medic?"

Marsha nodded, "sounds fair. I can share some basic supplies with whoever I don't go with."

As she removed her pack and called Merel over, Paravyan was tasked with flipping the coin; heads for him and Merel, tails for Yermolai and Creius.

It was tails.

"Well, looks like the young ones are gonna venture off on their lonesome," Yermolai smirked, "try not to get into trouble."

"Same to you," Paravyan grumbled, wishing he could tell Yermolai good luck himself, considering he would be the one to deal with Creius' fear of water now, but he wasn't about to bring that up and risk ruining morale—not that they had left by that point.

Marsha stood, slinging her pack back over her shoulders, and Merel shoved the medical supplies she'd been given into her own pack before coming to stand beside him.

"Anything out of the ordinary, call it in." Creius ordered. "And try to be stealthy. We don't know what's out there."

Paravyan gave a mock salute before he set off down the first path, "come on, Merel, let's see what we can find."

Merel nodded and jogged after him and together, they parted from the rest of the squad. It wasn't long before they couldn't hear the others and it was just the two of them and the forest surrounding them.

After some time of walking in silence, Paravyan couldn't stand it anymore, "what do you think this arcane fluctuation could be?"

Merel jumped as if she hadn't been expecting him to speak, but stopped and turned to face him, shrugging, "I don't know to be honest, it could be anything from some creature or plant, or something else entirely."

"Or the Manus."

"Or the Manus," Merel agreed and started walking again, "but I don't think it is. We've seen Manus interference before, and we would've run into someone by now if they were involved."

Paravyan nodded, "well that's something at least. Maybe it'll turn out to be nothing and we trekked all this way for nothing."

Merel threw him a scathing look, "I'd like to at least find something. I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are."

She had a point, and Paravyan winced and muttered a quiet apology under his breath before silence fell about them again. They continued to walk and walk, getting a brief transmission from Yermolai to check on their progress, before the silence returned and they walked some more. Paravyan didn't know how much time had passed, but somehot it'd gotten even hotter and he was pretty sure that he was more sweaty than dry at that point.

"Ugh," he groaned as he and Merel trudged through a muddy patch that nearly came up to their knees and somehow a leech managed to work it's way under his sleeve, leaving an impressive mark by the time he noticed and removed the damn thing. Merel had managed to get one on her neck of all places, and they stopped momentarily so that he could pry it off her.

"The next time they suggest us for a mission to a rainforest, can we suggest Razor Squad instead?" Merel panted as they trudged up a small incline.

"We can certainly try," Paravyan said and stopped. "Hold on, I think I hear something."

Merel froze up ahead of him, still as the rest of the forest and Paravyan listened carefully. He wasn't sure what he was hearing, but it sounded like something… hissing? He frowned. What could it—

A sharp pain shot through his thigh and Paravyan yelped, jerking back instinctively. The pain sharpened, and he could feel something sharp embedded in his leg, and spotted something long and slippery from the corner of his eye; he drew his knife and sliced downward immediately, decapitating the snake that had just bitten him. He slipped on the damp earth beneath him and fell, but scrambled back to his feet immediately. Up ahead, Merel had leapt backwards, and Paravyan made to step towards her.

"Paravyan, no!" Merel threw out a hand to stop him. "Stand still—very still."

The panic in her voice made him obey and he watched her creep towards the dead snake, crouching before it, caution in her every move like she expected it to come back to life. Paravyan had never seen a headless snake before, but he wasn't about to tempt fate by saying anything about it either.

The colour drained from Merel's face and she looked up at him, "you need to sit, and we need to call Marsha, now."

"Why?" Paravyan said, even as he slowly sat.

"I looked up pictures of the dangerous snakes before we came—just in case," Merel said, hurrying over to kneel beside him, dropping her pack to the ground to rummage through it, "that's a brown snake, Paravyan."

It took approximately two seconds for Paravyan's heart to go from slightly panicked, to full on terror as the realisation sunk in, "o-oh. Um… what do you need me to do?"

"Sit there and not move is all you have to do." Merel said and paused before she shoved the communicator into his hand. "Actually, call the others, tell them what happened. And don't move."

Paravyan could do that, he could very much remain still, it was something he was very good at in fact, so he remained still as Merel pulled out rolls of bandages and began to work.

"Of course you get bitten by a snake because there's a hole in your pants," Merel muttered, and Paravyan wanted to point out she had a tear in her sleeve, but kept his mouth shut when he noticed her hands were shaking. She was scared. Scared for him.

Paravyan pressed the button on the communicator and waited. It didn't take long for the call to connect.

"What's happened?" Creius' voice echoed through the device, and Paravyan wished then that literally anyone else had answered the call. Except Yermolai, because the man would've laughed and right now, Paravyan couldn't handle that.

"Oh, well… might need Marsha to come… sooner, rather than later if she doesn't mind," Paravyan said, trying to keep his tone light.

There was some murmuring on the other end before Marsha's voice filtered through, "Paravyan? What's wrong? Have you or Merel been hurt?"

Paravyan glanced at Merel who was winding the longest bandage he'd ever seen around his leg, going from the bite wound to the top of his thigh and then all the way down his leg towards his foot, tugging the boot off to get it out of the way. "You could say that."

Marsha let out an exasperated sigh, "Paravyan."

"I got bit by a snake," Paravyan said quickly, cheeks heating with embarrassment, "a brown snake to be exact."

There was a moment of silence from the communicator and then Yermolai groaned, "of fucking course he manages to get bit by one of the most deadly animals."

"Merel?" It was Marsha again, voice no nonsense now as she asked. "Do you remember what to do for a snake bite?"

Merel nodded, even though Marsha wouldn't see it. "Pressure bandage, keep him still and calm, and wait for help—which is you."

"Ezra gave me some antivenom, but it'll still take us time to get to you," Marsha explained calmly, "keep the bite lower than his heart, as low as you can, it'll slow the venom's progression."

"Okay."

"Paravyan." It was Creius again, and Paravyan swallowed uneasily.

"Sir?"

"You'll be okay," was all the man said before the line went dead.

You'll be okay—Paravyan clung to those words and gave Merel a shaky smile, "you heard him. I'll be okay."

Merel tried to return the smile, but didn't quite manage it. Instead, she gained a determined look and glanced about. "Okay, let's get you sitting on the packs. That should keep your leg way lower than it currently is, and we need all the time we can get until Marsha gets here."

"Go ahead, I'm not going to move," Paravyan said and watched Merel rush about, carefully pulling his pack from his back and stacking it on top of hers before grabbing a few loose branches and rocks to turn it into a makeshift seat. It certainly wasn't the most stable chair in Paravyan's life, but as Merel hauled him up and sat him down on it, becoming a stable pillar beside him, it would do.

Now all they could do was wait.

It only took five minutes for Paravyan to start feeling the worst he'd ever felt before. He'd slumped against Merel only a minute ago and his teammate was now the only reason he remained upright, her hands a firm, sturdy grip even as they shook. His heart was racing in his chest, but it was hard to tell whether that was because of the venom that burned, or if it was the fear of knowing that Marsha may not make it in time to help him. Paravyan swallowed, face twisting uncomfortably as his stomach cramped.

"How are you feeling?" Merel asked quietly, running a hand through his damp, sweaty hair.

Paravyan blinked through blurring vision, "could be better. Leg's hurting a lot now, so's my head."

"That's normal," Merel reassured him, "breathing okay?"

He gave a shaky nod. "Feeling a bit—" he broke off to swallow again, "—a bit nauseous."

"Also normal. Let me know if you can't breath properly, that's the main thing we have to worry about."

"Will do."

Just then, the communicator crackled to life and Marsha's voice came through. "Merel? Paravyan?"

Merel held the communicator up, "I'm here, Marsha."

"How is he?"

"Sweaty, says he's in pain and feeling sick, but he's breathing okay still."

"Good," Marsha said something that Paravyan couldn't discern before her voice came through clearer, "we found a path through the centre, so we shouldn't be more than a few minutes out."

Paravyan's stomach chose then to rebel and he shoved Merel back to vomit onto the ground where she'd just been standing, whimpering when it sent bolts of fire throughout his entire body.

"Was that Paravyan?"

Merel nodded and quickly stepped to his other side, getting an arm around him and hauling him back upright to slump against her again before he could fall to the ground, "yeah, he just threw up."

"Tell the idiot he's not allowed to die before we get there," Yermolai's voice was thick with concern.

"I can… I can hear you…" Paravyan murmured.

"Not now, Yermolai," Marsha snapped before she asked, "can you check his pulse for me, Merel? Just tell me if it's slow or fast."

Paravyan felt soft fingers press against the inside of his wrist and blinked tiredly before letting his eyes just stay shut.

"It's fast, very fast, but that's normal for a snake bite, isn't it?" Merel asked.

"It is, but too fast isn't good for him. Don't panic, I think we can see you. Not much longer, okay?"

"Please hurry, Marsha," Merel whispered before the communicator cut out again. Paravyan heard a shaky sigh before the hand on his wrist ran through his hair again. "Don't you dare die before she gets here."

"I'll try not to," Paravyan said and shivered. He opened his eyes only to see his vision blurring in a way that made him more nauseous and since he'd much prefer to not throw up his guts again, he quickly closed them.

Another couple of minutes passed before the sound of footsteps crashing through the forest, and for just a moment, Paravyan feared it was a damn cassowary coming to deliver the final kick to his bad luck, and he cracked open his eyes to see it wasn't a giant bird, it was Marsha.

Marsha reached him, a vial in hand as she dropped to one knee beside him. She was breathing heavily, but her hands were steady as she pushed up the sleeve of his uniform. "This is going to be very uncomfortable, Paravyan, but I need you to keep still, okay?"

"Okay," Paravyan murmured, wincing at the prick in the crook of his elbow.

"Normally, we would give antivenom through a drip, but we don't have the supplies for that, so lucky you is going to get a full dose, and then we'll get you back to receive proper treatment," Marsha explained gently, delivering the medicine slowly, much to Paravyan's discomfort.

"Where are the others…?" Paravyan asked.

"Well, I dumped my pack on Yermolai in order to get here faster, but they're coming," Marsha said and slipped the needle from his arm once she was done, stopping to squeeze his hand gently, "it'll take a bit, but you should stop getting worse soon enough."

Paravyan nodded once, and watched Marsha inspect Merel's bandagework, praising her for how she'd done it; Yermolai and Creius arrived a moment later, both of them out of breath and red in their faces.

"How is he?" Creius demanded.

"Alive," Marsha said, "please tell me you brought a teleportation disk with you."

Creius nodded and began to rummage through his pack, "I have a few, should be enough to get us back to the Australian Branch headquarters."

Marsha nodded and reached up to cup Paravyan's cheek, smiling softly at him, "how you feeling."

Paravyan blinked slowly, wincing at a fresh wave of pain, following by the coiling of his internal organs, "I'm gonna—"

That was all the warning he needed to give before Marsha and Merel turned him to the side so he could empty his stomach again—not that there was much left to come up.

"Give me a flask, and something to wipe his face with."

The water against his already damp skin instantly made Paravyan feel so much better, and he sighed as someone wiped his face for him. He tried to say thank you but nothing came out except for a pained groan.

"Here, I've got the disk, it should take all of us, but just in case, take one and use it after a few minutes," he heard Creius say, "Yermolai, you got him?"

"Yep," came the gruff voice a few seconds before strong arms lifted Paravyan into the air. His head lolled uncomfortably before someone shifted it to rest against a firm shoulder instead.

Paravyan heard the sound of the teleportation disc activating, but was unconsciousness before they arrived at their destination.

The next thing Paravyan was aware of was that he was clean and that he was in a bed, and that he felt awful. He ached all over, and he felt like he was on fire, and yet he somehow felt better than he had before, if that was even possible. There was a beeping sound that he recognised easily enough as a vital monitor, and the steady rhythm told him that he wasn't about to die, despite feeling close to it. Paravyan cracked open his eyes, squeezing them shut when he was blinded by bright light, groaning as it made his head ache something fierce.

"Merel, can you turn the lights off please? I think he's waking."

Paravyan waited a few seconds before trying to open his eyes again, pleased when he wasn't blinded this time, and was greeted by the sight of Marsha in front of him, followed by Merel slipping into view a moment later. Marsha smiled down at him, "look who's back with us."

Paravyan managed a small smile, along with a shaky thumbs up that made his joints hurt, but it was still something and it made both his teammates smile in relief.

"It's just us right now, Creius and Yermolai went back to finish investigating," Marsha explained, sitting in a chair that'd been pulled up to the edge of the bed, "we figured it best since you'll be down for a while, and you know Creius. Refuses to leave before the job is finished."

He did know, but decided not to focus on that right now. His ability to focus on the mission was next to none as he burned alive in the bed. "I'm alive," he croaked instead, not quite asking, but not quite stating either.

Still, Marsha nodded her head and touched the back of his hand gently, "they've got you hooked up to a second dose of antivenom, but you're improving, so that's all you need to focus on for now."

Paravyan nodded and glanced over at Merel, "thank you…"

Merel let out a slow, uneasy breath and sat in a second chair, "I'm just glad you're okay, Paravyan. It was—it was a little terrifying."

He could only imagine what his teammate had gone through, unable to do more than stand there and watch him succumb to the venom before Marsha had gotten there to save him. Paravyan was just glad that he hadn't been alone when he'd been bitten, shivering as he imagined how much worse he would've been if they'd split into singles like they usually did on jobs rather than doubling up with each other. But he tried not to think about it, focusing on the fact that he was here and that he was alive and would only continue to get better.

"You did good," Paravyan murmured, and then said to Marsha, "it's hot."

"That's a reaction to the antivenom, don't worry, we're monitoring it," Marsha reassured him, gripping his hand in his own and Paravyan found himself relaxing at the contact, "are you feeling okay otherwise?"

"It hurts, all over," Paravyan said, "but… that's normal too?"

Marsha nodded, "very normal, I'll ask the doctors about a painkiller though to take the edge off it."

"Thank you…" Paravyan said and then let his eyes fall shut.

Not even a second passed before Creius tried to get his feet under him, Razor and the squad leader on his other side getting their hands under him to help haul him upright—a terrible decision, really, considering the world nearly turned upside down as he moved faster than his body was willing, and he nearly crashed back to the floor, would've, if not for the two people bracing him between them.

"Is there a problem, gentleman?" Constantine's voice filtered through the pain and Creius tensed, lifting his head to at least try and pretend he didn't just fall down in front of everyone, but the sharp spike of pain behind his eye had him lifting a hand to press hard against it, trying to ease it just a little. There was no chance of hiding how unwell he was now.

His saviour came in the form of one of the younger committee members, watching him in sympathy as she said, "the squad leaders have their orders, surely they can be dismissed now?"

Quiet murmuring echoed through the table before Constantine waved a hand to quiet them, "very well, you are all dismissed."

Creius took a step back before freezing as the woman continued.

"Creius, the next time you wake with a migraine, consider sending one of your team to stand in your place, so we can avoid such a spectacle."

He stiffened and jerked his head in a nod, "yes ma'am."

"And the XII squad's departure can be delayed until you recover since you'll need every available man for this job." Constantine finished, her words sounding kind, but Creius knew better. Her mercy today would come at a price later.

Creius nodded once more and allowed himself to be dragged from the room, stumbling between the two that were keeping him upright, squeezing his eyes shut to try and lessen the pain. As far as migraines go, this one really could've waited until he'd been in his room to show up because he certainly wasn't going to hear the end of him collapsing in a meeting. Not his finest moment if he was being honest, although he was grateful for the two carting him towards what he hoped was the floor his squad lived on. He could hide out there for the few days it took for the pain to cease and then try to pretend he'd never had a migraine in the first place.

They reached the elevator, and Razor asked after pushing the button, "your floor or medical?"

"My floor," Creius said, cracking one eye open just as the elevator opened, "everything I need is there."

Razor nodded, and said something to the other squad leader, before dragging Creius into the elevator and following him in. The doors shut and it was just the two of them. Creius clung to the railing, sure that if he weren't wearing gloves, his knuckles would be white, and Razor stood on his other side, using both hands to keep him from hunching over on the floor. The elevator dinged to signal their arrival, and the sound ricocheted about Creius' skull and he fought against the hands holding him to shove his own into his eyesockets, pressing hard. He thought he was kneeling, cold metal pressed against his knees, but he couldn't be too sure.

"Yermolai! Delivery!" Razor shouted and Creius wanted to reach up and strangle the man as his words added to the pain.

But then he was being dragged from the elevator, tossed over a shoulder like a pack, all before he could bring the threat to life and he heard Yermolai's gruff voice ask, "what happened."

"A migraine, he collapsed in the meeting. You get a delayed departure because of it, lucky you."

"By all means," Yermolai said, gesturing at Creius, "you are more than welcome to deal with this yourself."

Razor was wisely silent, and there was another ding as the elevator departed.

Creius let out a groan, lifting his hands to dig them into the bottom of his eyes and alleviate some of the throbbing pressure there, "my room… please."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting ya there." Yermolai said, striding down the hall towards his room. "Loverboy's in there though."

"That's fine." Creius murmured. His entire squad could camp out in his room for all he cared right now; but honestly, having Name Day there might actually make him feel better.

Instead of his bed as he first thought, Creius found himself being dumped on the couch in the common room instead, and his hands were pulled away before being replaced with much warmer ones that were quick to apply pressure in all the right spots that made it less painful to exist. Creius opened his eyes to see Yermolai in front of him, the tiniest hint of concern on his face—and amusement. He was about to question the detour when another hand that wasn't Yermolai's grabbed his wrist, and the stabbing pain turned into a dull ache, an inconvenience more than dibilitating. His eyes went wide, and he quickly spotted Marsha. "Don't overuse your skill."

"I won't." Marsha promised.

"It's just so you can debrief us, so don't get used to whatever you're feeling right now," Yermolai said, "where are we going?"

"Rural Slovakia," Creius murmured, "was supposed to be ASAP but then," he paused to gesture at himself, "we've been given leeway to depart once I am able."

"Great, so three days time," Yermolai said, looking rather pleased as he turned to Marsha, "the migraines happen when our foolish leader here forgets he's actually a human being. One day of pain, one day of puking his guts up, and one day of sleep. Like clockwork, every time."

Marsha hummed and asked, "what helps?"

"Sleep usually, along with dark and quiet," Yermolai said and then glanced at him, "you still got the heavy duty painkillers?"

Creius waved towards his room, "somewhere in there. Pressure also helps."

Yermolai chuckled but pressed his thumbs harder against Creius' eyesockets, "that it does, but we can't have ya gouging your eyes out either. Don't worry, Creius, I know the drill."

That was a harsh truth, considering how long he and Yermolai had worked together for him to understand exactly how Creius' migraines worked and were triggered.

He groaned as the pain returned, eyes clenched shut as both Yermolai and Marsha hauled him from the couch and toward his room, just as the door opened as if waiting for their approach. Quiet footsteps moving out of the way told him who exactly at opened the door, and despite his throbbing skull, he smiled. "Name Day."

"Creius," that familiar gentle voice easing the pain just the tiniest bit, "what do you need me to do?"

Yermolai spoke up before Creius could, "just get him comfortable, I'll grab what ya need and then he's all yours."

"Okay," Name Day said and then it was his love guiding him to the bed that Creius readily collapsed against. Gentle hands tugged at his coat until he sat up enough for it to be removed, and the moment it was, he slumped back against the bed, feeling as one boot was removed, and then the other, before Name Day nudged him into moving further up the bed. "You'll feel better with a pillow underneath your head."

He wasn't wrong, but the pillow only made him comfortable; it did nothing for the pain, but then Yermolai was there, shoving pills into his hand and nagging him into swallowing them—he did, shuddering as they went down. Then he was manhandled a bit more, into a position that actually did help alleviate the ache in his head, followed quickly by a freezing cold wet cloth that was draped over his eyes.

"If he tries to gouge his eyes out—not literally—it just means he needs pressure," Yermolai was saying to Name Day, "and if he complains about a stiff neck you just have to decapitate him—also not literally."

Silenced followed his words as Yermolai no doubt demonstrated what he meant. Name Day hummed and rested a hand on Creius' knee, a welcome presence. "Anything else?"

"Painkillers should kick in and knock him out pretty quick. If they don't, have fun with misery itself. But they should, they usually do."

"Thanks, Yermolai," Name Day said quietly and soon the door shut, leaving them alone. Creius heard Name Day sigh before he moved up the bed, becoming a warm presence beside him, "how are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Creius answered honestly because there was really no hiding his condition from anyone, but he added on a quiet reassurance, "three days and I'll be okay. Just… keep it down, please."

Name Day murmured a quiet okay and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, just underneath the cloth that covered his eyes.

Creius never remembered much during the worst of his migraines, the pain and exhaustion whisking him away to a semi-conscious state whenever he wasn't blissfully asleep. This time, he was fortunate enough to sleep through the first day, only waking a few times when the ache behind his eyes forced him back to consciousness and he vaguely recalled asking Name Day once or twice to squeeze his skull. Name Day's cold hands weren't as firm as Yermolai's were, a hesitation there stemmed from a fear of hurting him, but it was enough to help and that was all Creius cared about in the moment. But other than those few times, Creius didn't move once from the position he'd been placed in, too paranoid that by doing so, the pain would return.

The second day however, he did move. He was forced to, really, when the nausea slammed into him like a car and made him throw up everything he'd eaten, which was thankfully, not much. But even when his stomach was empty, his stomach still twisted and rolled, until Name Day resorted to dragging him over to the toilet and leaving him hunched beside it. His love had attempted to give him some more painkillers, but like everything else he ingested, it just came back up, leaving him miserable and in pain—until Name Day left and fetched Marsha, who used her skill to take some of the pain for at least a little bit. She stayed until he drifted off again into sleep, and when he woke later that day, feeling less sick than before, he'd been returned to his bed.

And for the third day, which was always the final day, Creius didn't wake once. Not completely at least, because he was vaguely aware of a hand running through his hair at one point, of an ice-cold cloth being dragged over his face gently at others, but that was all. He knew that Name Day had remained at his side the entire time, tending to him with whatever Creius needed, and he felt guilty later about taking so much of Name Day's time just because of a stupid migraine, but he did appreciate it at the same time. They were always easier to bear with someone beside him, this was just the first time that it wasn't one of his squad members.

Creius finally woke at the end of that third day, more coherent than he'd been the past few ones, and took a moment to gather himself. His room was still dark, the cloth still covering his eyes, but the throbbing pain in his skull had become nothing more than a dull ache, a reminder of what his brain could do if he ignored the warning signs again. Which he would, because he always did, although not intentionally.

The cloth had long dried and warmed by now so he reached a hand up to remove it, and carefully opened his eyes into darkness. The lights were off and it was quiet, and he deduced that he must've slept the entire day away and knowing the higher ups, that meant that they'd come knocking tomorrow to find out if he and his squad had left yet. He'd get up in a moment and make sure everyone was packed and ready to go, but first—

He looked over his shoulder and saw Name Day beside him, some sort of gaming console in hand that he vaguely recognised and rolled over to throw an arm over his love's legs. Name Day jolted, startled, but looked down at him fondly and ran a hand through Creius' hair. "How are you feeling?"

"The worst has passed," Creius said, shuffling close to press his face into Name Day's thigh, "all that remains is an ache that will go with more sleep.

Name Day hummed, hand going still, "then you should rest some more."

"I might need to leave in the morning on a mission."

"That is fine."

Creius sighed and admitted quietly, "I wanted to spend more time with you."

"I know. We will have time when you get back." Name Day said.

"Will you be here or the Far East branch?"

Name Day shrugged, "that I do not know, but if I end up going back, I will send a message."

It would have to do, but for now at least, Creius intended to stay awake for a little bit at least and soak up what affections he could get before he had to leave them behind. He moved closer and shifted until his head was pillowed on Name Day's lap, looking at the screen of the console in his love's hand, "some kind of game?"

Name Day nodded and showed it to him; he doesn't recognise it one bit. "X found it in one of the Laplace storerooms and I asked to borrow it. I haven't played this one before."

Creius hummed, "can I watch?"

"Should you be looking at a screen yet?" Name Day asked, concern lacing each word.

"Probably not, but I've never been good at taking precautions," Creius said and wasn't surprised when Name Day fixed him with a stern look. He glanced away, "I'll watch for a bit and then sleep some more. I just want to spend some time awake with you."

Fingers ran through his hair once, touch ever gentle, and the words spoken, even gentler, "okay, just for a little bit. I want you well so you come back in one piece."

Hissabeth wakes in the morning, naked, with a warm weight pressed against her back. It takes her only a few seconds to realise that she's sharing her bed with another person, and that that person is Medicine Pocket, who's legs are tangled with her own, and who is also quietly snoring into her ear. She stretches in the bed, huffing in amusement when the arms around her waist tighten, and begins the process of trying to extricate herself from Medicine Pocket's grip, which is harder than it looks considering how intertwined with each other they are, but somehow she manages it and slips from the bed, leaving Medicine Pocket to their sleep. She makes her way to the bathroom, to shower and get ready for another long day at work and freezes when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Bite marks litter her skin, her neck, her breasts, and the insides of her thighs, all covered with marks that have obviously come from another person and it wouldn't take her colleagues long to recognise that Medicine Pocket was the one to leave them there. It isn't that she cares about people knowing she slept with someone and had a good time, she just doesn't want them prying into business that isn't theirs in the first place. Hissabeth frowns, trying to determine the best way to cover up the marks; if she and Medicine Pocket do this again then she's going to have to insist on the marks being left where they can be easily hidden.

She pauses. Do this again?

Did she want to do it again?

Sex with Medicine Pocket certainly is fun, she won't deny that; their own anatomy made her have to think differently in how to pleasure them, and they had wasted no time once they reached Hissabeth's room in taking her apart. She can recall it even now, their lips on her breasts, their fingers between her legs, at a pace that could almost be called desperate if not for the way that Medicine Pocket teased her by stopping whenever she came close.

It's the most intense orgasm she's had in a while, that's for sure.

So yes, she would probably have sex with them again if the offer is there.

Hissabeth showers quickly, and her siblings slip into the bathroom to come and coil around her, tangling into her hair like they always do once she's washed it, despite her complaints that she needs them out so that she can dry it. They comment on the marks on her body and she tells them it's fine, that Medicine Pocket just got a little bitey like they always do. One offers to curl around the marks on her neck to hide them and she appreciates the gesture.

By the time she finishes and returns to her room, Medicine Pocket is gone, and Hissabeth blinks, wondering when they'd slipped away. She's a little annoyed, since she wants to speak with them about last night, but no matter. It was just a hook up after all. Nothing more than a night of fun to satisfy their own needs. She doubts she's the first researcher Medicine Pocket has had a one night stand with and will certainly not be the last, but she at least wants to make sure that things won't be awkward between them now that they've had sex—although, she doubts they'll care much about it, just like how they don't care when someone calls them a man or a woman. It's just how they are.

A quick glance at the clock shows her she's running late to work and she sighs, finding long sleeves to wear until the marks fade enough to be covered with something else, and hopes that doing so, won't bring too many questions.

Thankfully, luck is on her side, and she makes it to her lab without running into anyone and gets stuck into her work., trying very hard not to think about the previous night.

She fails.

She stares at the report in front of her, but all she can think about is how Medicine Pocket's hands ran all over her body, caressing her gently in places and holding her tightly in others, and she can't focus at all on the words in front of her. Hissabeth groans and places her head in her hands just as the door to her lab opens up. She turns to see Pointer walking in with even more paperwork and groans, "can you not give me more work today?"

"It's not urgent paperwork, but it does need to be completed by the end of the month," Pointer says and then stops, looking Hissabeth over, "…are you sick?"

"No?" Hissabeth straightens in her chair, "why do you ask?"

"Because you're wearing long sleeves. You don't wear long sleeves."

Hissabeth lets out a silent oh before she smiles, "I'm not sick, just covering up some… marks."

Her words are enough for Pointer to raise her hands and shake her head, "I don't want to know. How's the project coming along?"

Hissabeth takes the change in subject gratefully and delves into the easiest thing to talk about; her research. She runs through the premise of the experiment she's planning to run the moment it's approved for funding, and explains what she's hoping will happen once she gets it up and running. Her colleague listens, nodding along carefully and tossing her own thoughts into the mix. It's easy enough to work with Pointer despite their differences, and she likes to think that what happened in Plesetsk only made them work together better. But as she looks over her friend, she finds her mind drifting back to the previous night.

Would she sleep with Pointer like she had Medicine Pocket?

The answer comes easily enough—she wouldn't—and it's enough to pique her curiosity enough that the question lingers in the back of her mind for the rest of the day; why Medicine Pocket?

By late afternoon, Pointer snaps at her, "just go already!"

Hissabeth stills the chair she's been spinning in for the past hour, "what?"

"You haven't done any work the past two hours, and there's obviously something bothering you, so just go deal with it so we can get back to work."

"Fine," Hissabeth says and stands, leaving the lab behind without another word, only to stop once the door shuts behind her. What is she doing? Is she planning to go up to Medicine Pocket and ask… what exactly? Hey, let's have sex again, or why didn't you stay this morning? She sighs and rubs her hands against her face before setting off for Medicine Pocket's lab; she at least has to go and talk with them about what happened, to determine if it was indeed a drunken one night stand or if perhaps there might be something else to it, if only so she can get back to work and focus.

She gets a few strange looks from other researchers as she walks down the hall, but ignores them, keeping her head down until she reaches Medicine Pocket's lab and knocks before entering.

"Go away," Medicine Pocket calls, bent over a microscope and doesn't turn to look at her.

"What are you working on?" Hissabeth asks, ignoring their words, and steps up to their workstation but is careful not to touch anything as she looks over the papers scattered about, lips quirking at the sight of the chewed edges.

"New drug to help arcanists recover their energy better than pricasma does," Medicine Pocket says and slaps around the table searching for something.

Hissabeth grabs the pipet filled with liquid and places it into their hand.

"Thanks."

"Better than pricasma, huh?" Hissabeth says, watching with interest as they work.

Medicine Pocket hums and fiddles with the microscope, "it better be if I can get it to do its job."

"What's not working?"

"Well, I tried it on myself this morning and passed out, sooo, everything?" Medicine Pocket says and finally sits back to look at her, "now tell me why you're here, bothering me instead of Pointer."

Hissabeth sighs and leans against the workstation, taking a second to collect her thoughts before she says, "you were gone this morning."

"And?"

"It bothered me."

Medicine Pocket glances towards her. "Why? It was just sex."

"That's true," Hissabeth agrees, "I guess I just wanted to talk it over."

"I define relationships the same way I define my gender—I don't care." Medicine Pocket says and wheels away from her towards a stack of papers, rifling through them, still not looking at her properly. "Just tell me what you want, it's easier that way."

"Sex is fine, but it's more that… we're friends, yes?"

Medicine Pocket stills and slowly turns to face her, eyeing her carefully before they nod, confusion in their gaze.

"Then perhaps it's just a little more than sex?" Hissabeth says slowly, unsure of what she's even saying. "I don't really know, but to me there's a difference between a hook-up and two friends who have sex."

"Have sex," Medicine Pocket spins to face her, "so you want to do it again?"

Hissabeth shrugs, "why not? It was fun."

Medicine Pocket slowly grins, one eyebrow raising, "now?"

She pushes off from the workstation and steps up to Medicine Pocket, leaning in close to whisper into their ear, "only if you come to my room again and stay this time."

"Deal."

They make it up to Hissabeth's room where they are quick to tug the clothes from each others bodies, kissing and grabbing onto what they can reach. Hissabeth's hands drag down Medicine Pocket's back, and their hands dig into the underside of her thighs as she finds herself being lifted and carried over to her bed, and Hissabeth leans back, forcing them both down. She laughs, and Medicine Pocket grins before kissing her deeply, running hands down her sides and over her thighs, nails dragging lightly over the scales that reside there. The touch sends shivers up her spine and she relaxes into the bed, giving herself over to whatever Medicine Pocket has planned for her.

She doesn't have to wait long to find out as they break apart and she feels them trail kisses down her neck and towards her chest, and her nipples harden in anticipation. Hissabeth jolts as lips wrap around one bud, nipping and sucking at it, the other finding itself being rolled between skilled fingers in a way that drags out a moan that has her throwing her head back against the sheets. Warmth floods her at the tender touches and she gasps as Medicine Pocket bites down before switching to her other breast, and Hissabeth's mind starts to fray at the edges. They know what they're doing that's for sure.

And Hissabeth is more than willing to let them.

Medicine Pocket moves on, trailing kisses down her stomach, drifting lower and lower, teasing her. She wants them to go lower, to put their mouth on her clit and bring her to climax, but instead they move around, kissing the insides of her thighs and moving down her legs before they add more marks to her skin, to replace the ones that haven't even begun to fade yet. Hissabeth groans impatiently, forcing herself to remain still as Medicine Pocket begins to move up again. She cries out when they nip at the sensitive skin close to her groan, and gasps when finally, their tongue rasps up through her folds before stopping at her clit.

Medicine Pocket does not move, and Hissabeth is seconds away from squeezing their skull with her thighs when they swirl their tongue and suck. Hissabeth throws her head back with a silent cry and she feels her friend grin against her, slowly repeating the motion. She can feel the heat building quickly within her, only for it to come to a jarring halt as Medicine Pocket pulls away and kisses her stomach, rubbing their hands against her sides and just watching her quietly, thoughtful eyes fixed on her face. She scowls at them and snaps, "hurry up, will you?"

They only smile and press another kiss to her stomach, slowly moving back down. Hissabeth moans loud as she feels Medicine Pocket's tongue slide up through her folds once again, painstakingly slow, back arching when fingers slide up to pinch at her nipples before they spread and squeeze her breasts hard.

She lets out another moan when their tongue laps at her clit, one hand trailing down her body, leaving behind a tingling feeling, as fingers make their way down between her legs. She sucks in a breath when one finger works its way inside her, sighing blissfully when a second follows quickly, and groans as they begin to move in and out of her, scissoring slowly in a way that made her hips buck, desperate for something faster. Medicine Pocket grins against her, lifting their head as they drag their other hand down, dancing lightly over her belly.

"Fuck," Hissabeth groans as Medicine Pocket presses their tongue hard against her clit, thrusting their fingers in deep, "do that again."

Medicine Pocket hums and does it again. And again. And again.

Hissabeth's toes curl, and she clutches at the sheets, that familiar heat coiling within her. Her mouth falls open with a silent cry as waves of pleasure wash over her—

Just as the door to her room opens.

Hissabeth cries out, pleasure giving way to panic just as Medicine Pocket screeches, "haven't you heard of knocking?"

The door slams shut.

"Who was that?" Hissabeth asks, shoving at Medicine Pocket to get them off of her, a little frantic at who's just walked in on the two of them.

Medicine Pocket growls and swipes a hand across their face where Hissabeth's juices stain their chin, "fucking Name Day. Doesn't he know how to knock?"

Hissabeth groans and gets up from the bed, "he does and he probably did."

"Well he should knock louder!" Medicine Pocket snaps, snatching up their coat and tugging it over their head, wiping their face with the hem of their coat, "he ruined the god damn mood just when it was getting fun, I'm going to kill him."

"Oh hush, I'll come by later and we can continue," Hissabeth says, reaching forward to cup Medicine Pocket's face, brushing her thumbs softly over their cheekbones before dragging them into a quick kiss, tasting herself on their lips—forever an odd feeling, yet not entirely unwelcome. Medicine Pocket melts into the touch, leaning in with closed eyes to chase her lips as she pulls away, before they seem to remember their earlier displeasure and shove her away, grumbling under their breath and storming out of her room without another word. Hissabeth sighs, embarrassment and exasperation dancing together within her, and grabs her own coat, wrapping it around herself before peering out her door.

Name Day glances at her from where he's leaning against the wall, face red as he clears his throat, "I did not mean to interrupt—I knocked and I heard—"

"Nothing I say can make this situation any better," Hissabeth interrupts, sparing her friend from having to explain further, "is it urgent?"

"No," Name Day clears his throat, drags a hand across the back of his neck, "I can come back later though…?"

Hissabeth waves a hand, "they're already gone, it's fine, but I need to shower first."

"I'll go grab you fresh sheets?"

Hissabeth smiles wide, "have I ever told you how much amazing you are?"

The corner of Name Day's mouth quirks up, "many times."

She watches her friend disappears down the hall and Hissabeth shuts the door, gathering the clothes scattered across the ground before hurrying to the bathroom to get cleaned up. It's the fastest shower she's ever taken, and even then it still takes her several minutes to feel ready enough to face the world—well, face her friend after what he'd just witnessed. Hissabeth groans and rests her head against the shower wall, wondering if the Storm can somehow reach her through the shower and whisk her away so she can pretend she wasn't just walked in on with Medicine Pocket between her legs.

When she hears the door to her room open again, she finally gets out of the shower and towels her hair as dry as she can get it before pulling on a clean dress and stepping back out into her room to find her sheets have been exchanged for fresh ones. Name Day looks up from where he's draping his large coat over the back of a chair and smiles softly at her, "how are you?"

"Contemplating asking Mesmer if she can somehow erase memories," Hissabeth says, crossing the room and wrapping Name Day in a warm hug, kissing his cheek in greeting, "you didn't have to remake my bed for me, but thank you."

"It is fine," Name Day says and sits on the edge of the bed before raising an eyebrow, "so… Medicine Pocket?"

Hissabeth groans and throws herself onto the bed beside her friend, "it's just sex."

"Yes, I gathered that when I saw them—"

"Don't need the reminder, thank you very much." Hissabeth interrupts and sits up before slapping her hands against her cheeks. Name Day jumps and then goes still as she turns to face him, grabbing hold of his face, "ask your questions so we can drop the subject."

Name Day nods, "are the two of you dating then?"

Hissabeth shakes her head, "just friends meeting up for some casual sex, that's all."

"Okay, that is my only question," is all that Name Day says before he pulls away and sits on the end of the bed with a sigh, "now let me tell you about this latest job because it sucked."

Hissabeth chuckles and stretches out beside her friend, listening to him chatter on about the latest job the Far East Branch sent him out on. She's glad to see him so talkative for a change, a stark difference to how he was when she first met him in Plesetsk. Part of her is still surprised at how they became friends, but in the busy, chaotic lives they lead, she's grateful to have a friend like Name Day—even though said friend absolutely picked the worst time to visit. There's just something about his gentleness that she appreciates, and his willingness to listen.

Once Name Day finishes talking, Hissabeth begins to speak, talking about her own work in depth, knowing that her friend won't understand most of what she's talking about, but he still nods and asks questions about her work, and that's all she needs. She doesn't talk for very long, tired out by her earlier fun with Medicine Pocket, but Name Day doesn't seem to mind, tired too from travelling all the way to Laplace's main branch just to visit her. She sighs and asks, "how long are you visiting for?"

"The Foundation requested my help with something so I'll be around a few weeks," Name Day says, "why?"

"It'll be nice to have you around again is all. Windsong mentioned a visit with Kiperina soon, so perhaps we can all get together and have a dinner like we did in Plesetsk?"

Name Day smiles, "sounds good," a silence follows his words for a time before he says into the quiet, "maybe warn Windsong to knock when she gets here, though."

She hears the yelling long before she reaches the corridor its coming from, recognising Medicine Pocket's furious shouts, but not the person shouting back, and hurries towards the noise. It doesn't take long for her to stumble across the scene and she stops to take in what's in front of her. Medicine Pocket and someone who must work in their department are so close together, that if it weren't for the angry yelling, she would think them about to kiss, and sighs. She can only imagine what's led to this situation. From what she can understand, it's an experiment gone wrong via negligence, a researcher's worst nightmare considering how pedantic they all are about making sure things are set up perfectly, and considering what Medicine Pocket's been working on lately, Hissabeth can understand why they're angry.

Hissabeth intends to stay out of it, let the two work out their differences, but then Medicine Pocket is shoved hard, and she sees the fury wash over their face and moves quickly. She manages to get an arm around their chest just as they reach for their colleague and stops them from grabbing them, knowing well enough that letting Medicine Pocket get a hold on anyone isn't a good idea.

"Let me go!" Medicine Pocket snaps, and Hissabeth tugs them back further.

"No," she says and slots herself between the two, blocking her friends view of the one they're angry at and looks into eyes wide with anger, "you can be angry, but not violent."

Medicine Pocket's chest heaves and their hands shake as they jab a finger into her own chest, "don't tell me what to do! He ruined weeks of progress! All for a shortcut that didn't even fucking work!"

Hissabeth nods, keeping her expression soft to show she's listening and that she's hearing them, but she also needs them to calm down before they work themselves up even more. She looks over her shoulder and glares at the researcher that's just standing there, a quizzical expression on his face. "Leave."

He does, scurrying down the hall at a rapid pace, as if he fears Medicine Pocket will chase after him. Which they would if not for Hissabeth's firm hold. She's about to turn her attention back to her friend when a head drops against her shoulder and Medicine Pocket seems to deflate against her. "Weeks of progress, Hissabeth, gone."

She doesn't say anything because nothing she can say right now will fix the damage that's been done. Research ruined is the worst thing that can happen to them in Laplace; it's happened to her more times than she can count and it'll happen again. Acknowledge the anger and the hurt, and use it to further the work, that's how she likes to operate. Medicine Pocket on the other hand is a raging ball of fury when something goes wrong, and she's witnessed many times over the years, the anger that winds up with people—and sometimes themselves—hurt. What she does do however, is pull them against her and wrap her arms around their trembling body.

It's all she can do really, as she guides them slowly from the hall to a slightly more private corner and provides a barrier for them against the world with her own body. Hissabeth watches them lean into the corner, watches them breathe and drag their hands down their face, and just waits for the moment in which she can step in. It doesn't take long; Medicine Pocket lifts their head and looks at her with frustrated tears in their eyes and she moves forward to cup their cheeks, wiping the tears away before they can fall.

"Breathe," she murmurs, and they listen, sucking in a breath as they lift their hands to grab her wrists and hold them loosely, eyes slipping shut.

"I'm going to kill him." Medicine Pocket murmurs.

Hissabeth hums and decides a change in subject is in order, "I may not be the biological genius you are, but perhaps I can help you get back on track?"

"You'd be better at following my orders at least," Medicine Pocket scoffs and pushes away from the wall, planting their face into Hissabeth's chest, hands coming to clutch at her coat, "come work for me so I can get rid of all the idiots."

"As much as I love helping you out, biology isn't really my main interest," Hissabeth says with a smile, and reaches up a hand to tug out the scissors holding Medicine Pocket's hair up, watching it fall about their shoulders, "but I can help you through what you're feeling now."

Medicine Pocket lifts their head, catching her meaning instantly and their eyes glint, "oh really now? You gonna fuck the anger out of me?"

Hissabeth raises one brow, "will it help?"

"Good sex always makes me feel good," Medicine Pocket says and loops their arm with hers, "my room, let's have some proper fun."

Hissabeth doesn't get the chance to even ask what her friend is planning as she's dragged down the halls and all the way up to Medicine Pocket's room, although she's more than willing to go along with them She's more than a little intrigued by what Medicine Pocket means by proper fun, but considering how angry they were just a moment ago, she's going to hold her expectations of anything actually happening low.

So she's a little surprised when she finds herself shoved onto Medicine Pocket's bed the moment the door is shut—and locked—behind them, and even more surprised when her friend straddles her and kisses her. Hissabeth reacts immediately, kissing back, resting her hands on Medicine Pocket's hips. She parts her lips to let them in, tongues dancing together as they move as one. Medicine Pocket moves slowly, dragging one hand up Hissabeth's dress, fingers trailing up her side, followed quickly by the other hand and Hissabeth pushes upright, breaking the kiss long enough for Medicine Pocket to push her dress up and over her head.

They dance together slowly, and Hissabeth rests against the bed as Medicine Pocket runs their hands up and down and all over her body, kissing her lips for a time before slowly moving down to her neck. She let's them, spreading her hands over their sides, waiting for the right moment to undress them. She recognises that they need this, that the slowness of this moment is helping them let go of their anger and move into something more positive, more desireable, and she's willing to wait until that moment comes.

It comes with one final kiss before Medicine Pocket stills, their foreheads pressed together and Hissabeth raises a hand to brush it against Medicine Pocket's cheek, "let me take charge?"

They nod, and Hissabeth slowly sits up and it's her turn to run her hands all over their body. She removes the coat, lets it fall off the end of the bed, and then gives Medicine Pocket a shove so that she can get that damn bodysuit off. It's an inconvenience every time they do this and yet she finds she doesn't actually mind. She enjoys watching them slip out of it, and this time is no different. Soon enough, they're both naked, and Hissabeth turns them before dropping Medicine Pocket to the bed and looms over them. Their face is flushed, lips swollen a little, and she smiles and asks, "you mentioned some proper fun?"

Medicine Pocket nods and tilts their head to the side, "under the bed, there's a box. Grab it."

Curious, she slides off them and finds the box in question, dragging it out and glancing over her shoulder when she finds a bit of weight behind it. "Just what do you have in here?"

"Fun things," Medicine Pocket says, wiggling their brows at her before the sit up and take the box from her, dumping its contents onto the bed and—wow, it's a sex toy box.

Hissabeth is both surprised and not at this revelation. She lifts one out of the box that's clearly dick-shaped and made of glass, which isn't surprising, but then the next one she pulls out looks like some kind of drill and that has her cast a questioning look towards Medicine Pocket.

"It's vintage," they say, "tried it once, never again, but it lives in the box."

"It doesn't look… pleasant," Hissabeth says, putting it to the side and looking for the toys that she's familiar with herself. Medicine Pocket has everything apparently so it's easy enough to build a small pile… not something she's ever really considered. "Why do you have so many sex toys?"

Medicine Pocket shrugs, "why not? They're fun. And we're gonna use some."

Hissabeth cocks a brow and looks down at them all, "…dare I ask which ones?"

She's given a look before Medicine Pocket grabs two items, grinning at her, "if you're feeling flexible, how about these?"

Hissabeth considers herself pretty flexible but what Medicine Pocket is suggesting is bordering on what she can't do. She has to admit that the challenge is tempting, which is the only reason that she even agrees.

And as it turns out, having a faux cock imbedded within her as she fucks Medicine Pocket with a glass toy is more pleasurable than she thought. Every buck of their hips drives the toy she's sitting on deeper into herself, sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body. She's already cum once, but Medicine Pocket insisted she stay with a firm grip on her hips, refusing to let her up until she made them do the same, and damn is she close again.

"You like this a lot, don't you?" Hissabeth grins as she slides the toy deeper inside Medicine Pocket's ass, trailing her fingers down their chest as they writhe and twist beneath her, hips bucking and dragging a moan out of her.

"Fuck—you—" Medicine Pocket hisses through clenched teeth, throwing their head back with a groan, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

"You already are," Hissabeth teases, losing her rhythm at a particularly strong thrust from her friend.

To be honest, Hissabeth still isn't sure how she and Medicine Pocket went from quick casual sex in whatever empty room they could find, to whatever this was in Medicine Pocket's room. It's not that she's not enjoying it—because she is, immensely—it's just a big step up from what they usually do that she's a little surprised that Medicine Pocket put forward the idea in the first place and she has no doubt that if whatever is going on between the two of them continues, that she'll be nudged into using some of the more… unique toys.

A sudden jerk from beneath her reminds her what she's doing and she reminds Medicine Pocket just who's in charge right now with a thrust that has them moaning seconds before their stomach clenches and their toes curl, hips stuttering as they reach their climax. Hissabeth grins and slowly drags the toy out before pushing it back in, gently, as Medicine Pocket pants beneath them. Once they go still completely, she stops, leaving it inside them as she raises her own hips and focuses on fucking herself, making sure that Medicine Pocket is watching her as she drives herself to her second orgasm.

She watches them lick their lips, eyes focused on her breasts as they move with each roll of her hips. Their fingers twitch and she smirks, knowing that they want to put their hands on her and leans forward until one nipple brushes their lips. Hissabeth dips her head down and murmurs in Medicine Pocket's ear, "they're all yours."

Medicine Pocket blinks before their tongue snakes out and licks at one nipple before they lean up enough to latch onto it and Hissabeth moans as they suck and use their tongue to tease and roll the bud around. She drops forward even more, and Medicine Pocket takes the chance to snap their hips and drive the toy in and out of her at a faster pace, and between that and the mouth on her breast, it isn't long before she's cumming, crying out with the pleasure that courses through her. She collapses against Medicine Pocket's chest, breathing heavily and feeling almost like she's floating.

A finger jabs her in the ribs after a couple of minutes, "get off me, I can't breathe."

"You can too," Hissabeth argues, but slides off the toy and lays on her back beside them, watching as they reach down and remove the toy from inside them with a quiet groan, tossing it to the side before they too, fall back beside her.

"Who's on clean up this time?" Medicine Pocket asks.

Hissabeth sighs, realising that she's up for it this time, and forces herself to sit up and then stand, "it's my turn, but I'm not hauling you into the shower."

"But my ass hurts," Medicine Pocket whines, but Hissabeth just crosses her arms, immune to their complaints by now.

"You were the one that wanted me to fuck you, deal with it. I'll wash your hair for you if you get there."

Medicine Pocket huffs, but gets up and shuffles over towards the bathroom, giving Hissabeth the chance to quickly strip the bed and dump everything in the corner of the room to be dealt with later. She'll have to grab fresh sheets before they can curl up and sleep the rest of the day away, but that won't take long considering the linen closet is just down the hall. Hissabeth wraps her coat around her and peers into the hall, making sure the coast is clear before rushing out to grab fresh sheets—next time, she'd make sure to grab them before they began their fun.

She returns and makes the bed as fast as she stripped it, being mindful not to dirty them with the mess that's drying between her legs, before she heads over to the bathroom and steps inside to find the shower already on and Medicine Pocket sitting beneath it. She smiles softly and joins them on the floor, "I didn't actually hurt you did I?"

"Takes more than that to hurt me," Medicine Pocket scoffs, running long fingers through their wet hair, "it's just been a while is all, everyone always wants me to fuck them."

"Really?"

Medicine Pocket gives a stiff nod, "no one wants to take the time to figure out how to pleasure the person who's anatomy doesn't match what they know."

Hissabeth stares at them for a moment before nudging them forward so she can slide behind them, spreading her legs on either side of them before lifting her hands to run them through their hair for them. Medicine Pocket sighs and falls back against her, eyes slipping shut, and Hissabeth waits a moment before saying, "they aren't very good bed partners then, if they only pleasure themselves."

"It is what it is," Medicine Pocket grunts, "you're the first to ask what feels good though, so you're already better than the rest of them."

The words warm Hissabeth's heart and she smiles as she reaches for the soap, preparing to wash her friends hair. She presses a kiss to the back of their neck, and whispers against the skin, "you deserve to feel good too."

Medicine Pocket glances up at her, a strange look on their face before it softens and they press a kiss to the underside of her jaw, that small gesture of affection saying more than words ever could, and leaving her feeling warm and happy inside.

Another Storm comes and goes, and Hissabeth is tired when Lucy calls a meeting to check on all the departments. Apparently she's finally figured out that it's just easier to gather the department heads into one room than try to track them down individually like she used to do, so Hissabeth drags herself to the meeting room, far too tired to stay awake for long and falls into the chair beside Medicine Pocket who looks even more tired than she does, face flushed with a hint of colour.

"Rough Storm?" She asks quietly as the other department heads start to file in.

Medicine Pocket grunts, shoves their chair closer to hers, and drops their head onto her shoulder, "rough week. Damn robot couldn't wait another week to do this? No one's gonna stay awake just for her to ask us if we're okay."

Hissabeth chuckles and lifts a hand to give Medicine Pocket a few headpats, tangling her fingers into their hair when they turn to press their face into her shoulder, and watches as Maguerite files into the room… with a teenager behind her. "Looks like we have a new face."

A grunt answers her, but she feels Medicine Pocket turn their head to look at the teenage boy who looks seconds away from wasting away entirely, he's that thin. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's come from the era they just left, and he has one hand hooked into the back of Maguerite's uniform like it's a lifeline, head down as he follows her. There are whispers about the room as others notice the boy, and Hissabeth watches as he finally lifts his head, mismatched eyes taking in the room.

The whispers intensify.

"Wonder where he came from," Hissabeth muses, "he doesn't look well at all, so maybe he's a street kid?"

"Don't know, don't care," Medicine Pocket grumbles even though their eyes track the boys every move.

"Perhaps he'll be working for Maguerite?"

Medicine Pocket shakes their head, "nah, chances are she's just the one that picked him up."

They don't have to wait for too long to figure out who this new face is, because Lucy walks in at that moment and spots the kid for herself, and gestures towards him, causing the poor boy to freeze in place as all eyes turn to him, "everyone, this is X, he will be heading the mechanics department."

"Well guess that explains what happened to Rodrigo," Medicine Pocket says, "they sure replaced him quick."

Hissabeth hums, watching the way X seems to shrink under all the stares for just a second before he straightens and smiles in a way that screams I'm friendly.

"Oh he's totally got trauma, look how fake that smile is," Medicine Pocket grins, and she recognises the tone of their voice as one that promises trouble.

She pokes them in the side, "don't even think about it. Let him settle in before you do anything stupid."

"Ugh, you're no fun."

"That's not what you said this morning," Hissabeth says teasingly, reminding her friend of the fun they'd had this morning before they had to come to the meeting. The flush on Medicine Pocket's face deepens a little and they quietly clear their throat.

"Ass."

Hissabeth smiles, and listens to Lucy as she talks about what they need to do now that another Storm has happened—the usual speech she gives where they need to include research about the Storm alongside their other experiments and research. Easy enough in theory, absolutely exhausting in practicality, and Hissabeth doesn't look forward to the increased workload. Neither does anyone else in the room and beside Lucy, Simone clears her throat before saying something they can't hear. Lucy then straightens and tells them to work hard, but to also take adequate breaks before leaving and Hissabeth just stares after the Awakened.

"That has to be the fastest meeting we've ever had," Hissabeth comments as everyone starts to file out of the room.

"Great, I have shit to do," Medicine Pocket throws themself out of their chair and stretches before they turn and lean in close, and after checking to make sure they're alone, kisses her softly, "come by my lab later."

"We just went a round this morning," Hissabeth says, raising an eyebrow but not opposed to the idea.

Medicine Pocket huffs, "and? Let's go another."

"Alright, fine, but I need to check on my own research first, so you'll have to wait."

Medicine Pocket grunts and waves as they leave and Hissabeth stands to do the same when a quiet voice asks her, "is that your boyfriend?"

She freezes and turns to see X watching her, a calculating look on his face. How long had he been standing there?

"No," Hissabeth says quickly, feeling her cheeks begin to warm, "they aren't. Medicine Pocket is just a friend."

"I see…" X says, looking thoughtful just as Maguerite pokes her head back into the office.

"Come, X, Madam Lucy wishes to speak with you."

Hissabeth watches the teenager leave, frowning as his question lingers in her mind before she shakes her head. She figures that to someone that doesn't know them well enough, that the friendship she shares with Medicine Pocket might seem more than friends, but X will learn just as the rest of her colleagues have, that friendship with Medicine Pocket isn't as simple as one might think. It's complex and messy and takes a lot of work and communication to make it work as well as it does, but Hissabeth wouldn't have it any other way. She and Medicine Pocket have worked together for so long that she couldn't imagine not being friends with them—the sex is just a bonus at this point.

It doesn't take her long to check on her research and update her progress report, making a note to come back in a few hours to make sure everything is running smoothly, but an hour is still an hour and she sighs, stretching in her chair and decides to grab food for both her and Medicine Pocket before they engage in any kind of fun. Thankfully, everyone seems to be busy with work today so it's easy enough to slip in and out of the cafeteria within minutes, and it's not long before she's knocking on the door of Medicine Pocket's lab, hands too full to open it herself.

Medicine Pocket opens the door with a tired frown, spots the food and slowly grins, face pink, "feeding me now are we?"

Hissabeth rolls her eyes, "if I didn't bring you something to eat, you'd just steal my own plate and I'm hungry."

"Rude, but you aren't wrong," Medicine Pocket says, taking one of the plates and striding over to their cluttered desk. Hissabeth follows them in, takes note of the organised mess and decides to sit on the couch and eat instead. As she does, her eyes remain on her friend, just watching them push the food around the plate and nibble on it as they read over a report.

"What are you working on today?" Hissabeth asks.

"Hmm?" Medicine Pocket looks towards her, confused before they seem to register her words and wave a hand towards the desk, "same thing as last time, but this time, it doesn't make me pass out when I take it. Progress."

Hissabeth nods and finishes eating before she gets up and moves to stand behind them and rests her arms over their shoulders, "please tell me someone knows you are injecting this into yourself."

"Madam Lucy knows," Medicine Pocket says, tilting their head back to look up at her, eyes bright, "are you worried about lil old me?"

"Perhaps," Hissabeth says and drops a kiss onto their forehead, "am I not allowed to care about my friend?"

"Just so long as you don't interfere with my research, do what you want," they say, leaning against her more—and is it just her, or are they a bit warm?

She lifts a hand and brushes the back of it against their forehead to confirm her suspicions, thinking back to the pinkness of their skin that she's noticed all day, and how exhausted they've been, and sure enough, their skin is warm to the touch. "You have a fever."

"No I don't," comes the quick retort even as Medicine Pocket stiffens beneath her. So they knew they were unwell.

Hissabeth straightens and steps to the side of them, reaching to tug them up, "yes, you do, and I won't stop you from working—although you should—but at least take a rest and something for it."

Medicine Pocket resists for a few more seconds before they sigh, "fine," and they stand—and collapse like a puppet.

Hissabeth lunges forward, only just catching them in time to prevent their head cracking against the floor. Her heart pounds, "Medicine Pocket?"

They groan, trying to get an arm under them, managing to push themselves up just a little before they fall back against her, and now that they're pressed against her, she can feel the heat emanating from them even more. She shouldn't be surprised really that Medicine Pocket's body has chosen now of all times to give up on them, but it still sends her heart racing to see them go limp so quickly when they're usually so animated. Hissabeth lifts a hand and once again feels their forehead before resting a hand against their neck, wincing at how feverish they feel now they aren't trying to hide it, and rolls her eyes, "and you wanted to have sex."

"Was hoping to push through…" comes the murmured response, and Medicine Pocket's eyes flutter open but they seem to stare right through her.

"You are an idiot," Hissabeth scolds gently and then asks, "what do you want me to do?"

Instead of answering, Medicine Pocket's eyes fall shut again and they become deadweight in her arms. Well, that answers that.

She slides out from underneath her friends still form and reaches for the communicator on their workstation and calls for medical to be dispatched to Medicine Pocket's lab.

Lucy meets them in the rehab centre, Simone at her side, and takes stock of the situation before asking, "is it their condition that has flared up?"

Hissabeth nods from where she sits in a chair beside Medicine Pocket's sleeping form—where she's been since she followed the medical team down, "they woke up briefly when the staff arrived, and managed to get out that it started before the Storm came before passing out again. Not that they deigned to mention it to anyone of course."

"I see," Lucy crosses their arms, "what part of their care plan is being utilised?"

"Rest and fluids, it's just a fever right now, but the staff are confident they can stop it before it worsens." Hissabeth says, not liking the way the words feel like lead in her stomach. She wants to kick herself for not noticing sooner, for not putting it together when she saw them that morning that they weren't feeling well. They'd had sex that morning dammit, she should've noticed something was off then, that the heat between them was stronger than usual.

A cold metallic hand lands on her shoulder and she looks up to see Lucy watching her, and even though the director isn't wearing her human face, Hissabeth can tell she's concerned. "They will be alright," Lucy says, and Hissabeth hums before Lucy continues and makes her freeze in place, "with such a loving partner watching over them, I am certain they will make a full recovery."

Loving partner? Her? The way Lucy says it indicates that the Awakened thinks she and Medicine Pocket are dating, and she's so stunned by it that she forgets to refute the statement, and by the time she finds the words to, Lucy is leaving, the door shutting behind her. Hissabeth finds herself sitting in silence, eyes watching the door before she manages to drag them to watch over Medicine Pocket instead. She starts to contemplate, brow furrowing, as she tries to understand where the misconception that she and Medicine Pocket are together has come from.

Were they sneaking off together too much? Surely—as much as she loathes the idea of her fellow researchers knowing she was having sex—her colleagues aren't that dense. Was it the affection she showed them? She was affectionate with all her friends, surely everyone knew that. Or was it something else that gave the impression that she and Medicine Pocket were more than friends? Whatever it is, she doesn't like it. They are just friends—friends that so happen to have sex with each other.

Hissabeth pauses, and thinks more on that point. Is it the sex that's giving off the not really friends vibes that everyone else but her seems to be picking up on? She sighs and leans back in her chair, letting her head hang over the back of it. How had it come down to this? Maybe Medicine Pocket had the right idea of ignoring any and all labels because whatever this was between them, it was certainly more than friends at this point.

A groan from the bed catches Hissabeth's attention and she lifts her head to see Medicine Pocket waking up again, looking a little better than when they'd first arrived. Their brow furrows before they turn their head and meet her gaze, "medical?"

"Yep, you collapsed on me without warning so I called for them" Hissabeth says, "lucky you gets to spend a few hours here while a fever tries to kill you."

Another groan, a complaintitive one this time, and Hissabeth can't help but smile before her face falls, and Medicine Pocket latches onto it like one of their chew toys. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Liar," Medicine Pocket glares at her, "just spit it out or go away."

Hissabeth sighs, "Madam Lucy thinks we're together."

Medicine Pocket blinks once, twice, and then cocks a brow, "and?"

"You know, dating."

"I'm not an idiot, Hissabeth, why does it matter what she thinks?"

"It… doesn't bother you?" Hissabeth asks quietly and the look she gets in response tells her exactly the answer she expected to get and sighs, "right, of course it doesn't."

"But it bothers you." Medicine Pocket states and rolls their eyes, "honestly, everyone's obsession with labels is ridiculous—"

"It matters to me," Hissabeth interrupts, drawing her friends attention, "I need the label—to understand what this between us is. All this time it's just been sex and yet Madam Lucy isn't the only one to think we're together. That new kid also thought we were a thing."

Medicine Pocket stares at her for a moment before rolling over in the bed and turning their back towards her, "whatever, go figure it out somewhere else and leave me out of it. I'm tired and you already know I don't care what people think."

Hissabeth sighs and nods, "fine." She stands and goes to leave before closing her eyes and taking a breath, walking over to the bed and placing a hand on Medicine Pocket's shoulder, leaning over to press her lips against their temple. "Feel better soon, okay?"

The tension that'd formed in Medicine Pocket's sickly form, eases with her touch and they grunt in response, slipping back to sleep before she's even left the room.

Hissabeth spends the next couple of days pondering over everything as she splits her time between her research and keeping Medicine Pocket company, and it gets to the point where she feels like she's being crushed by the expectations and curiosities of those around her, so she leaves without a word to anyone other than Lucy and makes her way into the Far East, seeking out the one person she can talk to and not feel judged for it. It's been so long since she was last out this way that she's forgotten how long the journey takes, and by the time she arrives at the Foundation's Far East Branch, she's exhausted. But she makes it, and that's the main thing.

Hissabeth makes it a few steps past the security when a voice calls out to her and she looks over to see Windsong approaching.

"If I'd known you were coming," Windsong says, an easy smile on her face, "I would've scheduled my trip a little later. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Hissabeth says quickly and then sighs, "it's not a work related visit this time, I'm afraid."

Windsong frowns, "are you okay?"

Hissabeth nods and gives her friend a smile, "just figuring some things out is all. Is Name Day around?" She hadn't stopped to consider what she'd do if the man was out on a job.

"You're lucky, he just got back from up north a few hours ago. He should be in his room," Windsong places a hand on her shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze, "if you need an extra ear at all, don't be afraid to reach out, okay?"

"Thanks, Windsong." Hissabeth says, giving her a genuine smile before she waves goodbye and continues on her way, navigating the winding halls of the Foundation until she reaches the levels where the staff all live and follows the familiar path down towards Name Day's room. She's only walked it a few times since befriending the investigator, but considering it's the only reason she ever comes to this branch of the Foundation, it's enough for it to become familiar.

Hissabeth doesn't knock as she reaches Name Day's door, but she does at least have the courtesy to not just barge into the man's room, slipping inside quietly. She immediately takes note of the mess that leads to the bed, an indicator that Name Day's priority was sleep first, report later, and quietly moves about, tidying up the mess so her friend doesn't have to do it later. She catches a glimpse of Name Day dead asleep and sighs; perhaps coming here without telling anyone wasn't the smartest idea. But she's here now, and can always apologise later for the visit.

The moment she sits on the edge of the bed, Name Day jerks awake with a snort. Bleary eyes look up at her, followed by a tired voice, "…Hissabeth?"

"Hey," Hissabeth smiles and hopes Name Day's too tired to see how frayed it is at the edges, "rough job?"

Name Day grunts, eyes slipping shut, but he shuffles over in the bed and lifts the blankets, "is it urgent?"

Hissabeth shakes her head and sheds her jacket before crawling into the bed, "no, not urgent. I just need some advice."

"Mmkay… if you want that, you are going to have to let me sleep first," Name Day murmurs, struggling to open his eyes, "only got back a couple of hours ago."

"I can wait," Hissabeth says and hesitates before asking quietly, "can I have a hug though?"

Instead of answering, Name Day just winds his arms around her and draws her close, curling around her as best he can in their current positions. Hissabeth sucks in a breath and relaxes into the embrace, feeling her worries ease away already. Within seconds she hears Name Day begin to quietly snore and his embrace loosens, but Hissabeth doesn't move. She just curls up even more and closes her own eyes. A quick rest herself might do well to clear her head and give her a chance to think over what she wants to say.

When she wakes again later, feeling much more rested than before, Name Day is still asleep and Hissabeth slips out of his hold and leaves the room behind, knowing it'll still be a while before he wakes. She makes her way down to the cafeteria that's crowded with the lunch rush, eyeing the food critically and listening to her snakes demand this and that for their own bellies, piling food onto a couple of plates, enough for her, her siblings, and for Name Day when he gets up. There are eyes on her as she walks past others, but she ignores them and makes her way back to her friends room, struggling to get the door open before it finally does and she can slip inside.

Hissabeth is in the midst of eating her lunch when Name Day finally shows signs of life again, stretching in the bed and pulling the blankets over his head before groaning. She smirks, "you can go back to sleep if you need to rest more."

"I would like to pretend I at least have a somewhat normal sleep schedule," Name Day says before he rises like a vampire from its coffin.

"You? Normal sleep schedule? Never." Hissabeth grins as she nibbles on a piece of fruit.

Name Day glares at her, but the effect is lost with how messy his hair is—and the way he's once again, struggling to keep his eyes open. Then he yawns and slumps over, "I was not expecting a surprise visit, however."

Hissabeth hums, and something in her tone must give her away because Name Day straightens and fixes her with a look.

"Has something happened?"

"Depends on what kind of something you're expecting," Hissabeth says and gets up when Name Day pats the spot on the bed beside him, taking a seat and stretching out with a sigh. She takes a moment to ponder over her thoughts, tapping her fingers against her thigh before she finally settles on, "remember what we spoke about last time you were at the Main Branch?"

Name Day frowns before he nods, "that you were seeing Medicine Pocket for… sex, right?"

Hissabeth nods, "except I don't think it's just sex anymore."

"Tell me." Name Day says, and so, Hissabeth does.

She tells him—without details—how she and Medicine Pocket have been hooking up with each other, how she's only thought of it as sex and just overall friendship but that everyone else at Laplace seems to think differently, and also how she tried to speak to Medicine Pocket about it, only to essentially be told to fuck off and figure it out. Name Day listens to her as she talks, his quiet presence making it easier to talk; she ends it with a quiet sigh and even quieter words, "I don't know what to think right now."

"Well, it is not my area of expertise, but I feel confident in saying that you and Medicine Pocket are probably a little more than friends now." Name Day says gently. "Why does having a label on what you have matter so much to you?"

"I…" Hissabeth starts but then trails off, thinking it over properly. Labelling her relationship with Medicine Pocket isn't really all that important, and yet there's something in the back of her mind, telling her to figure out what it is they have with each other. But as she thinks on it a little more, she starts to consider that maybe it's not her wanting the label, but those around her that want it instead. "I don't know."

"Then perhaps the question you need to ask yourself is if you love Medicine Pocket?" Name Day suggests, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Relationships are broad, no two are the same. You know Medicine Pocket cares not for labels, so perhaps that is what you should focus on to be happy. They will not tell you they love you easily if that is what you want, but if you do not care for that and just want to love them, I think they would be open to that."

Hissabeth hums, pondering the words carefully and looking back on all the soft and tender moments she and Medicine Pocket have shared over the time spent together; the nights where after they've cleaned up, they lay quietly in each other's arms, gentle touches and slow kisses—the moments neither of them talk about to each other. She remembers too, the day she woke up without Medicine Pocket beside her and how it felt like a small part of her had been hollowed out, "we have soft moments together, but I guess I've never really paid them much attention until now. Maybe…" she trails off and ponders her next words, "maybe I do love them?"

"That is a good starting spot," Name Day says, smiling down at her, "you do not have to figure it out now, that is something the two of you will do together."

"Thank you," Hissabeth says quietly and settles against him, "whatever would I do without you?"

"You would figure it out eventually, you are smart after all," Name Day says and then yawns, "you are welcome to stay, but I am going back to sleep."

Hissabeth murmurs another quiet thanks and then as Name Day drifts off to sleep beside her, she considers what she'll say when she gets back.

When Hissabeth gets back to the Main Branch, she hears that Medicine Pocket is still in the rehab centre and heads straight there, hoping that they're awake and alone so that she can talk with them. She enters their room quietly to find them both awake and alone and smiles in greeting when they turn to look at her.

Medicine Pocket scowls at her, "where did you go?"

"Went to visit Name Day," Hissabeth says truthfully, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed and noting there are a few more wires hooked up to her friend now, including a line that disappears into their bicep, "did you get worse?"

"Yep." Medicine Pocket grunts and points at the bags dripping medicine into their veins, "got painkillers, an antipyretic, and an antiemetic keeping me sane this time," they pause and lift the arm with the line in it, "and since I can't keep anything down right now, I'm getting fed the fun way."

Hissabeth winces with each medication they list, and from the frustrated look Medicine Pocket is wearing, it's not a simple flare up anymore.

Medicine Pocket glances at her and then away, "did Name Day solve your problem?"

"He helped." Hissabeth says, unsurprised that they figured out where she disappeared to, and then being mindful of everything, swings her leg over to straddle Medicine Pocket's lap.

They narrow their eyes, "I'm not in the mood—"

She covers their mouth with her hand, "it's not like that. I just need you to listen, okay?"

They give her a slow nod.

"Am I correct in assuming you don't care what people think of our relationship?" Hissabeth asks and Medicine Pocket gives another nod, confusion in their eyes. She sucks in a breath and continues, "I do care, but I have realised that whatever our relationship is, it's not what everyone expects of us."

Medicine Pocket shifts their head and gently bites her finger to get her to move her hand, which she does and they ask, "why does it matter to you?"

"It just does, I can't explain it," Hissabeth says honestly, "I don't mind not putting a label on it, but between us at least, I need to define it. Is it just sex, or is there something more?"

She's surprised when Medicine Pocket actually seems to be contemplating her question and waits, heart pounding as they slowly say, "you could say that we are a little more than just friends at this point."

Hissabeth nods and hesitates before deciding to just blurt it out, "I think I may love you—" she feels them stiffen beneath her and gives them a look, "—and I am not asking you to love me, but to let me love you."

"…I suppose that depends on what your love entails." Medicine Pocket says simply, not rejecting, not accepting, but just being them.

"Nothing more than what we're currently doing, really." Hissabeth murmurs and plants her hands beside Medicine Pocket's head, watching their throat bob as they swallow. "Maybe a little more physical affection. Kissing, cuddling—both of which you like anyway."

Medicine Pocket hums, "I do. Are you expecting sappy little I love you's?"

Hissabeth laughs, "no, I don't expect that of you. But I'm not opposed if you ever want to say them."

"I'll consider it," Medicine Pocket says and then grabs her cheeks, squeezing them gently, "all that worrying, and you didn't even come up with a label. I told you they were bullshit."

Hissabeth shakes her head fondly before she closes the distance between them and kisses her friend softly. "We might not have a label, but I just needed to define it a little. So thank you, for tolerating it."

Medicine Pocket grunts and pats her cheek before nodding to the empty spot beside them, "yeah, well, it's you, so I guess it's fine, but just for all that added stress, you can be my pillow, get that physical affection quota you so desire in and let me pretend my body isn't trying to kill me."

Hissabeth chuckles lightly, recognising the teasing tone hidden amongst the bluntness of their words, "are you feeling that bad?"

"Yes, now hurry up, before I change my mind."

Hissabeth does and instead of stretching out beside Medicine Pocket, she slips behind them on the bed, carefully manuveuring herself until her friend is resting against her and she smiles happily as they relax against her, head pillowing on her chest. "Comfortable?"

As it turned out the good fortune ended the moment the three of them arrived back at Laplace, because as Name Day's luck would have it, what should have been a simple broken arm turned out to be a broken wrist and elbow. He could see Windsong torn between laughing at his misfortune or sighing because she expected nothing less of him. Kiperina at least looked sympathetic to his plight as his arm was splinted by the medical staff, giving him a gentle pat on the knee as the staff told Name Day recovery would take him anywhere from four to six weeks depending on how he healed. Which was fun to hear. The only upside was that he could still work provided he be careful, although he wasn't fond of being restricted to light duties, since that meant he became everyone's errand boy instead of investigating anything fun.

The downsides were, of course, miserable to deal with. Finding himself suddenly limited to just one arm made Name Day appreciate just how much humans used both arms in their day to day lives. Eating wasn't so much of a problem—he could still use his fingers after all—but dressing himself and even showering? Those were suddenly a war all of their own, but he managed… somehow. Oh and filling out reports, but that was more of a slight inconvenience than anything else; he was capable of using either hand to write, it was just instinctive for him to reach out with his right hand to do things, the sharp spikes of pain reminding him that that wasn't currently an option.

After the first week, the medical staff forced him into using a sling, lest he make his recovery period even longer.

Which made everything even more miserable to deal with.

A reprieve came for him in the form of a delivery job a week after his injury; nothing strenuous, just delivering some materials from Laplace's Plesetsk branch to the main branch that had been requested. Easy enough, and it would give Name Day a chance to catch up with his other friends—and maybe even Creius if his squad was in—so he hadn't hesitated to leap at the job, happily agreeing to play courier.

It was worth it to see the look on Hissabeth's face when he walked into her lab with a smile on his face and the materials she'd requested.

"What did you do?" Hissabeth asked, standing to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek like she always did. She held him at arms length and studied the splint and the sling, "do I even want to know?"

"I fell when helping Windsong." Name Day said, a sheepish smile on his face. "Broke my wrist and my elbow because I am just lucky, I guess."

Hissabeth shook her head and laughed, "only you, Name Day, only you. How long until it heals?"

"I get it checked in another week to make sure it is healing correctly. If it is, another… three or four weeks." Name Day said. "I have to go meet with the Foundation, but I'll come back tomorrow to visit."

"Okay," Hissabeth's mouth quirked up, "off to see if your man is in?"

Name Day rolled his eyes, smiling, "I do actually have to drop off some reports, but yes, that too. Do you know if he's here?"

"I haven't seen him, but I also haven't heard anything about the XII squad leaving either."

Name Day nodded his thanks and waved a farewell before he left and began to make his way to the Foundation. When he entered the building, he caught a few surprised looks from people he knew that hadn't seen him in a while and could see the questions in their eyes, but he ignored them, just nodding his greetings to finish the job he was assigned. It didn't take long to drop off the reports to the appropriate people—most of who didn't even thank him—and with that done, he had some free time until the next job came along.

So he walked down the hall towards Creius' office. It'd been weeks since they had last seen each other, both busy with work, so Name Day was more than a little keen to see his something, and hoped he was in and they hadn't missed each other.

He reached the office that Creius—and the rest of his squad—worked out of and knocked before opening the door, smiling when he caught sight of familiar red hair.

Creius looked up as he stepped into the office, and smiled happily at him, before dropping his head to stare at the paperwork in front of him. The man wasn't alone in the office, Yermolai was stretched out on one of the couches, looking at Name Day with wide eyes. Name Day tilted his head in greeting and waited.

Creius went still, brow furrowed, and slowly lifted his head, eyes landing on Name Day's arm. The furrow deepened before finally, his eyes went wide, "what happened?"

From the couch, Yermolai laughed, "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice."

"Shut up," Creius huffed before he stood and came over to stand in front of Name Day, asking again, "what happened?"

"Was out working with Windsong and fell," Name Day said with a shrug, "it's only for another few weeks or so."

Creius looked him over and shook his head in exasperation, "only you. Between you and Paravyan, I'm going to turn grey."

"You're a redhead, you can't turn grey." Yermolai scoffed, sitting up and gesturing for Name Day to take the empty space. "Looks like you did a good job though."

"Snapped my wrist and my elbow, the medical staff were rather impressed," Name Day said, sitting down beside the older man, "I never understood how much someone used an elbow until I couldn't move mine."

The corner of Creius' mouth twitched upwards, "but you are okay otherwise?"

Name Day nodded, "they have me on light duties until it heals, so I have just been running errands for everyone the past couple of weeks."

"Well," Creius looked at the stack of paper on his desk and then at Yermolai, "if someone did his own reports for a change, I could finish early if you have nothing planned for the day."

Yermolai scowled at Creius, and Name Day wisely kept quiet as the two seemed to have some sort of silent conversation before Yermolai sighed and stood, grumbling, "fine, go be sappy, but I'm not delivering the damn reports."

"Thank you, Yermolai." Name Day said, rising to his feet when Creius approached, and looped his arm with his something's, bumping his head against Creius' shoulder, tightening his grip to encourage Creius to do the same.

Creius cleared his throat, "thank you. I'll deliver them when you're done."

Yermolai gave Creius a look before pointing at Name Day, "you ain't allowed to go anywhere, he's nice when you're around."

Name Day laughed at the unimpressed look on Creius' face, and tugged the man into walking alongside him, "bye, Yermolai."

He heard a grunt as the door shut behind them and shook his head slightly before looking up at Creius, "stuck on desk duty again?"

Creius sighed and began to walk up the hall, nodding, "I'll give you one guess as to why."

"What's Paravyan sick with this time?"

"Gastritis, and he's rather miserable so we get a few days at home until he recovers." Creius said. "As you can tell, Yermolai's not particularly keen on sitting around, so he decided bothering me was better. Marsha and Merel are off doing something for the day, I didn't ask what, so it's just the two of us working."

Name Day's heart clenched in sympathy and he tightened his grip on Creius' arm, "do you want to come up to my room instead of yours then?"

Creius hummed, pondering over the idea before he nodded, "sure, maybe I can cook us some lunch?"

Name Day brightened at the idea of eating some of Creius' cooking instead of cafeteria food—or field rations—for a change; his something always cooked the best meals, which considering he didn't get to do it all that often, was impressive on its own.

They walked the halls quietly, riding the elevator up to the floor Name Day resided on, and he breathed out all his exhaustion the moment he entered the familiar space, bending down to untie his boots and get them off. He watched Creius do the same much faster before shedding his coat and folding it carefully to leave it by the door. Name Day had only just gotten his boots loose enough to kick off when Creius grabbed his coat and helped to tug it from him, hanging on the hook on the back of the door for him. He murmured a quiet thanks before determining how much he wanted a clean shirt. He'd mastered the art of getting his pants and his boots on for work, but shirts were a whole other story and he often went a few days before swapping it out for another one.

But this time he had Creius with him, and the man could read him like a book.

"What are you wanting to wear?" Creius asked, stepping over towards Name Day's closet.

"I will take literally anything but this shirt," Name Day said, sitting down on the edge of his bed and tugging his arm free of its sling, "actually, just grab me a coat, forget the shirt. I am not going anywhere else today."

Creius nodded and grabbed a simple green jacket that Windsong had bought for him months ago, dropping it onto the bed beside him before reaching for Name Day's shirt, "let me help."

Name Day nodded and lifted his arms and let Creius pull his shirt, first over his head, before carefully tugging it over his injured arm, and he quickly pulled his remaining arm out of the sleeve before grabbing the jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now.

"I'm surprised they splinted it instead of casting it." Creius said, folding his shirt and placing it at the end of the end.

Name Day hummed, "they thought about it, but then considered what I am like and decided against it. The compromise was that I wear a sling."

Creius' eyes fell to said sling, lying beside him, and raised a brow, "the sling you are not currently using?"

"If I hurt myself in my own room, I deserve to be locked in the medical wing," Name Day said and held his good hand out towards Creius, looking up at his something fondly, "come here?"

Creius' face softened and he leaned down, pressing his lips against Name Day's in a gentle, warm kiss that Name Day welcomed wholeheartedly. His eyes fluttered closed as a hand came and caressed his cheek, and he let out a noise of content, hand coming up to clutch at the front of Creius' shirt and tug him that little bit closer. They broke apart, breaths mingling as their heads rested together, and Name Day soaked up his something's presence. The weeks that passed by without them seeing each other only made these moments even more tender—more special, and he loved every second that Creius' hands were against him.

They kissed again, and Creius' hand came around to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair, and Name Day responded by sliding his hand up Creius' shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath his palm. He brushed his thumb over Creius' side before they broke apart again. "I missed you," he murmured, dropping his head onto Creius' stomach.

The hand in his hair smoothed down the back of his neck, sending shivers up his spine, "I missed you too. Why don't you rest, and I'll cook?"

Name Day nodded, liking that idea a lot, and with Creius' help, got settled on the bed, lying on his side so that he could watch Creius work. He didn't doubt that he'd fail in staying awake, but he could at least watch for a bit; so he did. He watched Creius move through the little kitchen in the corner with ease, like this was just a normal day for the two of them, and he smiled to himself, intending on enjoying it while it lasted. The sounds of cooking echoed throughout the room, and it wasn't long before Name Day found himself dozing off—

—only to be shaken awake a moment later by Creius' gentle touch.

"Lunch is ready," Creius murmured, sliding a hand underneath Name Day's back to help him sit up.

Name Day hummed and climbed out of bed, welcoming the chaste kiss to his brow before he yawned and stepped over to the table and sitting. "Smells good."

"It's nothing fancy," Creius said, sliding a plate of spiced chicken and vegetables in front of him, and Name Day's love for the man shot up upon noticing the chicken had been sliced so he only had to use one hand.

"I'm sure it tastes great," Name Day said and quickly took a bite, nodding to show his approval; worth it to see the pleased expression on Creius' face.

They spoke quietly while they ate, although for once there wasn't much work discussion to be shared. Name Day told of the story how he'd broken his arm, a little sheepish as he explained the branch that'd sent him tumbling into the snow, and Creius in turn told him of the simple things his squad had gotten up to. Apparently Paravyan—before he'd fallen ill—had gone out with Marsha to a movie after the medic had said mentioned never seeing one before, and Merel had taken time to visit the Timekeeper and her other friends. Heartwarming stories that left Name Day feeling lighter by the time they finished eating.

He watched Creius clean up before they both slipped over to the bed, and Name Day nestled himself between Creius' legs, resting against his chest with a pillow on his lap for his arm, humming contently as fingers ran through his hair, brushing out the tangles that lay within it.

"Do you want it up or down?" Creius asked him.

Name Day thought about it for a moment and then asked, "do you know how to braid?"

"I… do not," Creius admitted quietly, "I can try though?"

"I'll walk you through it," Name Day said and began to explain the process, telling Creius to section his hair first before he started braiding. It was amusing to listen to Creius grumble as his first attempts failed, struggling to understand the crisscrossing motion that a braid required, and Name Day eventually held up his hands to show what he meant, feeling Creius' eyes on them as he copied Name Day's motions. In the end, it was a messy braid, but it was still a braid and Name Day tilted his head back to look up at Creius' slightly red face, "you did well for a first attempt."

Creius cleared his throat, "I'll have to practice since you seem to like wearing them a lot."

"Usually when I go to bed," Name Day said, "stops my hair getting too tangled while I sleep. Maybe you can practice on Yermolai?"

He felt the laugh before he heard it, and Creius wound his arms around Name Day's waist, holding him close, "something tells me he wouldn't be fond of that."

"Probably not, but it would be fun to see," Name Day said. "You should take a job in the Far East so we can see each other more. Going weeks without seeing each other is harder than I thought."

Creius hummed his agreement, dropping his head to nuzzle the crook of Name Day's neck before kissing it gently, "but it makes these moments we share better, wouldn't you agree?"

Name Day nodded and twisted so that he could reach Creius' face, first kissing the man's cheek before tilting his head up to steal a kiss from his lips. He murmured against them, "at least we will have time while I heal."

"Yes, although next time, I would prefer you to just take the time off, rather than break your bones."

The first thing Creius does, is trek all the way to the Foundation headquarters to check in and grab everyone a change of clothes. He'd passed Merel on his way, their youngest member telling him that Yermolai was in surgery to remove the shrapnel embedded in his leg, so Creius asked her to pass along the message that he would bring everyone fresh clothes, and that they were to get themselves cleaned up. He gets caught by Irinei demanding to know how and why he's back before everyone else at the safe zone, and Creius leans back from the man's angry words, telling him his presence was requested by Madam Z and that she'd arranged their quick return. Irinei's scowl deepens, but Madam Z herself shows up then to corroborate Creius' story, and waves him onwards whilst she deals with Irinei's temper. He murmurs a quiet thanks as he passes her, and makes his way to the elevator.

He takes his time in getting himself clean, scrubbing every inch of himself until the water runs clear, and even then he still doesn't feel clean. So he takes another shower, scrubs himself again, and finally feels good enough to walk all the way back to Laplace. He stops by everyone's rooms, grabs what he vaguely recalls seeing them wear on their days off and he's just leaving Paravyan's room when he comes face to face with Madam Z and freezes. "Madam Z."

"Creius," the smaller woman greets him, "I take it you're heading back over to Laplace?"

Creius nods and holds up the clothes he's holding, "my team's preoccupied, I just stopped by to grab them clothes. Did you need something?"

Madam Z shakes her head, "I managed to smooth things over with Irinei, so he shouldn't bother you, but I wanted to let you know if you need any assistance with Name Day, I'll write the orders."

"Thank you. Does the Eastern Branch know?" Creius asks.

"They've been told there was an accident and that Name Day was injured and won't be returning to work until he gets a clean bill of health, which should keep them off our backs for a time."

Creius nods, grateful for the foresight. The Foundation doesn't need to know the truth of what happened, not when Name Day's been trying so hard to accomplish his own goals. "The Storm was bad timing."

Madam Z's face softens in sympathy, "it was, but we'll get through it like we always do."

She turns to leave, but before she can call the elevator, Creius calls out to her, "can I ask a question?"

Madam Z turns to look at him.

"Why did Name Day come to you when things got bad the first time?"

"It was actually because of Medicine Pocket," Madam Z says, "they called me after an incident and I spoke to Name Day about his struggles. Since then, I think he just finds it easier to speak with someone who he's told before."

"So you will come and speak with him again?"

Madam Z nods, "once he's well enough to handle the conversation. I'd rather not discover he has a lower point than the one he's already hit."

And with that, she leaves, and Creius waits several minutes before he calls the elevator for himself. He's not sure why he asked the questions he did; maybe he just wanted to understand better why his love trusts in the woman so much, maybe he just wanted to know how to better help. Either way, he's glad that Name Day has someone in a higher position than himself in his corner.

Creius manages to make his way out of the Foundation without being accosted by anyone else, and avoids everyone else on his way back to Laplace. By the time he returns to the research centre, someone calls out to him, telling him that Yermolai's been placed in his own room now and that the rest of his team is there. Creius nods his thanks and gets directions before making his way there. He arrives and quietly pushes open the door to the room.

His squad have clearly borrowed clothes from somewhere, because they've all changed out of their uniforms and shoved them into a corner to be dealt with later, and Creius' mouth quirks up in amusement at seeing them scattered about Yermolai's bedside. Paravyan's asleep again, curled up tight in a chair and someone's bound the shoulder he dislocated days ago, and Creius places the clothes for him on the end of Yermolai's bed. He hands Marsha and Merel theirs since they're both awake and watching him.

"I just grabbed what looked comfortable," Creius says, and Marsha smiles at him in thanks, but Merel's face starts to turn red at the prospect of having him rummage through her closet. Creius ignores it and nods towards the other two of the squad, "how's Yermolai?"

Marsha stretches in her chair, "they managed to get all the shrapnel out of his leg, but they need to check over it once he regains consciousness to make sure there's no further damage."

Creius nods, "and Paravyan?"

"I took care of his shoulder while Yermolai was in surgery. It should be fine, the wrapping is just to give it a bit of stability—he told me it was a quick fix at the time. Otherwise he's just exhausted." Marsha looks up at him. "How's Name Day?"

"Sleeping," Creius says, "it was alcohol poisoning again, but worse this time."

"But he's okay otherwise?" Merel asks quietly and Creius nods.

"He just needs some time, but yeah, he's okay."

"Are you going to go sit with him?" Marsha asks.

Another nod, "I'll be just up the hall if you need me, and I'll drop in once Yermolai wakes up."

The two women nod, and Creius leaves them, casting one last glance at them all before he follows the hall back down to Name Day's room—and steps onto a room devoid of Name Day.

"Don't panic, he's in the bathroom," Hissabeth says, amused at whatever face he's making.

Creius breathes to force his suddenly racing heart into calming down and loiters awkardly on the doorway, "how is he?"

"Much more coherent than the last time he woke up," Hissabeth says just as the door to the bathroom clicks open and Name Day shuffles out.

Only to freeze upon seeing Creius is now in the room.

Creius watches a myriad of emotions cross Name Day's face, as if he isn't quite sure what to feel upon seeing him and steps a little further into the room just case Name Day thinks he's imagining his being there. He waits, taking in Name Day's hair, tangled and loose, and the way he trembles as if just standing is exhausting to him.

Then the tears come.

Creius surges forward and wraps his love in his arms, holding him tight and close, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, "it's okay," he murmurs, running one hand up and down Name Day's spine, "I've got you."

Name Day buries his face into Creius' chest and sobs, trembling. He doesn't say anything, but the desperation in which he clings to Creius is more than any words can say.

Creius glances over at Hissabeth who mouths he's a bit emotional lately and nods, holding Name Day firmer, bringing one hand up to wipe away the tears as they fall. Name Day leans into the touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of Creius' hand and then wipes his eyes before looking up at Creius, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Creius says and tries to guide Name Day back towards the bed when his trembling worsens.

It's easy enough to get him settled again, and Creius sits in the chair beside Hissabeth who leans forward to take Name Day's hand into her own, squeezing it. "How are you feeling?" Hissabeth asks.

Name Day shrugs, his voice empty as he says, "tired. I'm going back to sleep."

Creius blinks, surprised when Name Day rolls over and turns his back on them. He glances at Hissabeth who just lifts a finger to her lips, a warning to be quiet, so he keeps his mouth shut. In the silence, he considers what he just witnessed; the sudden burst of emotion followed by absolute nothing, it worries Creius even though it's not the first time he's witnessed it. It's just that it's the worst he's ever seen it.

After a time, Hissabeth says quietly, "it's normal, what you just saw."

"No it's not," Creius says, crossing his arms and sighing, "he's hurting."

"Well, yes, but for now this is his normal. He's still got a decent amount of alcohol running through him, and he's scared of saying something he can't take back, so he turns away to protect us and himself."

Creius dips his head, acknowleding the words. It doesn't surprise him. Name Day's ability to care for others even when he's already hurting himself, is impressive. "Hissabeth, can you tell me what happened?"

Hissabeth watches him before she leans back in her own chair, turning to face him, "he slipped away from us during the Storm, managed to get into the alcohol and drank himself into the rehab centre. It…" she trails off and sighs, and there's a sheen to her eyes as she continues, "it wasn't great. X found him in the stairwell, covered in vodka, blood, and vomit, thought he was dead, but then realised he wasn't."

"How much did he drink?" Creius asks, clasping his hands together.

"Five or six bottles, I didn't count," Hissabeth says, "we got the call for assistance, rushed over and did what we could. With how much he drank, the priority was getting him to expel as much as we could manage, so we did, and then brought him here to sleep it off. Which is all he's really done since then."

Creius nods and lifts his hands to rub them against his face, "so we just wait then?"

"We go at his pace, Creius," Hissabeth says gently, "we can push and guide, but we can only go as fast as he can handle."

He knows this, but he needed to hear the words said aloud. Quietly, he drags his chair closer to the bed and reaches to take Name Day's hand in his own, "then we'll be there alongside him."

As it turns out, waiting is the easiest thing that Creius does. He remains sitting beside Name Day's bedside, watching over him as he sleeps for the next day and a bit before his love finally wakes up and seems interested in staying awake, and Creius gets to hold a conversation with Name Day that in his eyes, goes well. He doesn't bring up anything pertaining to Name Day's current condition, not unless his love is the one to bring it up—which he doesn't—and they instead talk about pointless things. Creius tells Name Day has much as he can about his squads most recent mission and Name Day talks to him about the experiments he's helped out with.

Just that conversation is enough to drain his love's energy, and Name Day goes back to sleep, eyes a little brighter than before.

Hissabeth leaves at some point to go take care of herself, but it isn't long before Medicine Pocket waltzes through the door, claiming the newly freed chair for themselves. They don't say anything to Creius, and all Creius offers is a quiet greeting; Medicine Pocket has never quite forgiven him for attacking them. But Creius takes the chance to leave and both stretch his legs and check in on his squad. Yermolai is awake when he walks through the door, but blissfully unaware as the anaesthesia works its way out of his system still. It's amusing to watch and Creius can't help but smile.

He tries to seek out X, to speak with the boy and find the final piece of what happened, but the door to his lab is locked and anyone he asks can't tell him if X is actually in there. Creius leaves a message with an assistant and returns to sitting beside Name Day's bed where he continues to wait and tries to come up with his own plan for helping his love get back up the slope he's fallen down. He has an idea of how to help, but as Hissabeth pointed out—gently mind you—he hasn't actually seen Name Day at his worst before, so he intends to wait and see what those who've known his love longer plan to do, and add his own thoughts to the mix.

Creius is sitting on the bed next to Name Day several days later, with his love draped half over his lap as he tries to stay awake when Madam Z walks into the room, followed by Enigma. He feels Name Day tense immediately and runs a soothing hand through the man's hair before coaxing him into sitting upright. Creius stays where he is and with a look at the two visitors, makes it clear he's going nowhere. He stays quiet though as Madam Z starts the conversation, and Creius understands then why his love goes to her for help. She keeps her voice gentle and pushes the right amount without making Name Day feel like he's trapped. Her questions start of simple enough and Creius listens to the answers given, winding an arm around Name Day's waist when his words falter. All they are are gentle enquiries into how he's feeling now that he's sobered up, before delving into how he felt before he was brought here.

It takes Name Day some time to answer that one, but they all wait patiently until he speaks, quietly admitting that it wasn't just the slope, but that there was some kind of black dog that only he could see and hear, and that it was determined to keep him at the bottom of the slope. Name Day starts to cry then and Creius holds him closer, dropping his head briefly to rest on top of Name Day's. Madam Z nods as if she knows exactly what Name Day is talking about, and Enigma steps forward then to ask his own questions. Laplace's director tries to copy that gentleness, but he's just blunt. His questions are mostly about what happened during the Storm, asking Name Day what he remembers of that day and how he got himself into the situation they found him in.

Name Day frowns, tells them he doesn't remember, and it's a truth. He was simply too drunk to know. What he does remember is watching the Storm and finding the alcohol, but that's it. Enigma asks where and Name Day tells him, head dipping in shame Creius easily recognises.

Madam Z takes over then, giving Enigma a warning look before switching the subject to what comes next. She speaks plainly, telling Name Day that he's off work until he can get back up the slope, under the guise of suffering an injury from an exploding lab—a story helped by the fact a lab did explode during the Storm courtesy of a panicked researcher. And then she seems to falter, unsure of what else to say.

Creius chimes in then, offering his own thoughts as he runs his hand over Name Day's side soothingly. Since talking and time hasn't helped this time, why not look into other methods? Treat it like the illness it is, he tells them, surely the Storm hasn't taken everything. Both Madam Z and Enigma look thoughtful at his words, and Name Day asks what he means. Creius explains it simply; Name Day stays in the rehab centre where he can be helped and monitored as if he were physically ill—just for a little bit at least—and then once he's back on the slope, they can re-evaluate.

Name Day's hands curl in the blankets, face dancing with uncertainty, and Creius drops a kiss to the top of his head, hoping that's enough of a promise that he'a only trying to be helpful.

In the end, Name Day agrees to it, but only if it won't take resources that are needed elsewhere. Enigma assures him it's fine, that he deserves the care, and leaves the room to make the arrangements. Madam Z lingers, and tells them that she has someone in mind that Name Day can talk to that might be better suited to understanding him. Name Day frowns and asks who, and the name Kakania is mentioned. Creius recognises the name although he's never met the arcanist behind it, but he knows she was a psychiatrist in Vienna, back when Lucy was the one in charge of Laplace. Name Day appears to recognise the name too, but he looks hesitant. Madam Z smiles, reassures Name Day she'll put forward his case and leave his name out of it when she speaks to the woman, just to see if she actually could help him get better in the first place. The hesitation fades after that, but there's still a bit of caution as Name Day agrees to that also.

"You're doing well, Name Day," Madam Z says as she stands and places a hand on his shoulder, "you'll get through this."

Name Day starts crying the moment she leaves, and Creius gives a quiet sigh and holds him close.

"How long did they say before you can start physical therapy?" Creius asks Yermolai a couple of weeks later, studying the man's bandaged leg.

"Doctors coming by today to check, so could be today, could be another week." Yermolai says, trying to get comfortable in a way that doesn't jostle his leg, "it's just taking its sweet ass time."

Creius nods and considers what that means. More downtime, that's for sure, considering Yermolai is a key part to their squad functioning and without him, the danger level on any mission goes up. He's sure the others will be pleased to hear it at least, he know he is even if Yermolai is not. "The others been keeping you company."

"Yeah, they stick around like ticks. I kicked them out though, told them to go touch some damn grass." Yermolai says and then looks at Creius, "loverboy came by to visit yesterday while you were over at the Foundation."

"Oh?" Creius says, "how was he?"

"You haven't seen him to ask him that yourself?"

Creius shakes his head, "he asked for some space today, so he's barred everyone but the medical staff from his room."

Yermolai chuckles, "ah well, he seemed alright, asked how I was, brought me sandwiches from the cafeteria—and yes, he ate some too before you ask. Seems a bit happier now if you ask me."

"He's been doing better," Creius says, a relieved smile on his face, "but it's only been a couple of weeks, so he still has days where its hard."

"Well no one said a stint in the rehab centre was gonna cure him," Yermolai gives a shrug and then narrows his eyes at Creius, "you been taking care of yourself?"

Creius blinks and says stupidly, "me?"

"Yes, you. You've been running about since we got back. Between the Foundation and Name Day, you're gonna crash if you don't take a break.

I'm fine lingers at the tip of his tongue, but it's a lie he doesn't wish to breathe to life. He is tired, but he's also needed and right now that's what he has to focus on. "I'll rest soon," he says instead, "Name Day needs me and you kind of do."

"I don't need your ass here, I've got three parasites already doing that job." Yermolai huffs. "Name Day kicked you out, so why not take advantage and go rest. Come back tomorrow, worry some more then."

"Okay, I'm going!" Creius stands and starts to leave, before he's stopped by Yermolai calling after him.

"Check on Paravyan too while you're there."

Creius turns slowly and looks over his shoulder, "why?"

Yermolai's grin is so wide it's nearly spreading off his face, "he's got a cold."

"Again?"

"In his defence, that last mission was brutal, I'm not surprised his immune system shit itself," Yermolai says, "Marsha's already gone all medic on him, but you know how he is."

That he does and Creius sighs before promising to check on their second youngest member and leaves Yermolai to his rest. He takes a second to peer into Name Day's own room, finding his love curled up asleep under the blankets, in a sleep that looks restful for a change, and it eases his worry enough for him to commit to getting some rest himself.

The trek to the Foundation is uneventful this time round, and Creius is soon stepping out of the elevator onto his squad's floor, making his way towards Paravyan's room and opens the door enough that he can peer into it, seeing nothing but a mountain of blankets on the bed.

"Sir?" Paravyan's congested voice greets him, and the blankets move to reveal a bleary face.

"Yermolai wanted me to check on you," Creius says and lets an amused smile fall across his face, "another cold?"

Paravyan groans and sniffs miserably, squinting at Creius, "I'd like a new immune system thanks."

Creius chuckles, "need anything?"

"Marsha's already taken care of it," Paravyan gestures towards the table that's got water and cold medicine spread across it.

"Good, rest up," Creius says and gets a grunt in response before Paravyan's head slips back under the blankets. He leaves his teammate to his misery and makes a mental note to keep an eye on him over the next few days before making his way to his own room. The moment the door shuts behind him, Creius lets out the biggest sigh and sags against it, sliding down to the floor.

Alone like this, it's easier to let himself feel everything he's been struggling with the past weeks. The mission, the Storm, Name Day's health, it's no wonder that he feels like a wound spring. He drops his head to his knees, winding his hands around the back of his neck and just breathes. He'll be okay, because he always is, but right now he just needs a minute or two to crack a little. Just a little.

After five minutes, Creius drags himself to his feet, strips, and collapses onto his bed, dragging the covers over him until he's hidden from the outside world. Sometimes he wonders if this is what his life was meant to be, if perhaps he'd made different choices then maybe he'd be better. It doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done, and he has to live with his regrets. It's just… he loves Name Day, he knows he does, and he knows that Name Day feels the same towards him—and Creius isn't a fool to think that loving someone is easy, but there's a tiny part of him that wonders if he's the right person for Name Day, if perhaps the man he loves wouldn't be better off with someone that understands his bad days better, that doesn't need to take a break in order to wrangle his own complicated emotions.

Creius sleeps, but it isn't a restful one.

When he wakes up the next day, Creius contemplates getting up and making the walk back to Laplace, but decides that if he's needed, he'll be called, and that just for today, he can rest and isolate himself. There's a split second after making that decision where his mind washes him in worry over Name Day, but he squashes it down. His love is doing better and he has to believe it. Why just last week, Creius had walked in to see Name Day carving wooden animals for the kids surrounding his bed. Kiperina, Voyager, and Avgust were all chatting with him in their homeland's tongue, and Creius had smiled before taking a seat to work on paperwork, glancing at Name Day to see his love smiling softly and engaging with the children—an approvement considering just a few days prior, he'd ignored every attempt at conversation.

So yes, Name Day is doing better, and Creius trusts that he'll continue to do better even without him there.

So he rolls over to face the wall and closes his eyes to sleep some more.

Creius walks into Name Day's room feeling lighter than he did just a few days ago and stops at the sight before him. Name Day is awake, odd considering how early in the morning it is, and it looks as if he's just showered, hair damp and pulled into a loose braid to keep it out of his face, but that's not the strangest thing in front of him. Across from Name Day, lying on his stomach is X, socked feet kicking the air, his coat draped over one of the empty chairs, and Creius notes how much younger the teen looks without it. Between them is some kind of boardgame that Creius doesn't recognise.

Name Day looks over at him and smiles, "Creius! I missed you yesterday."

A pang of guilt hits his chest like a brick, but he decides it best to just tell the truth, "I just needed a day is all."

"Are you okay?" Name Day asks with a frown.

Creius nods and crosses the room to take the chair closest to Name Day, "I'm okay, I was just a bit tired. What about you? What are you playing?"

"Some game that Ezra swears by," X says, holding up what looks like to be a sheep, "it's pretty fun if you ignore the fifty natural disasters that keep killing our sheep."

"I… see…" Creius says, more than a little curious as to why X is here. The teen isn't looking in his direction, but from where Creius is sitting, he can see X's face and it looks troubled—more than a simple boardgame should produce.

"Do you want to play?" Name Day asks, "we can start again."

"Absolutely not!" X tilts his head to glare up at Name Day, "it's taken us an hour to get to this point! I'm not starting again now."

"It's fine, I'll just watch," Creius says and does just that. He gets passed the rulebook and begins to read, quickly understand what the game is and how to play and after seeing a few turns in which X loses half his flock and Name Day almost all of his own, he can understand the teens frustration. "And Ezra said this was… fun?"

"Australians have a sick sense of fun," X grumbles, "I'd rather play Monopoly."

"Didn't Medicine Pocket eat the board last time we played?" Name Day asks, taking his turn in the game.

"They ate the chance cards, but I found another board in storage, so we can play again. Just make sure they have a damn chew toy this time." X says.

"Monopoly?" Creius asks and is surprised when two heads swivel at once to stare at him.

X stares, eyes wide before he slowly turns back to Name Day, "you're dating a man that doesn't know what Monopoly is?"

Creius feels his face start to flush.

"I didn't know what Monopoly was until I started working at the Foundation," Name Day says simply and then to Creius, "I'll show you later, perhaps we can play it with the squad."

"Sure," Creius says even though he has no idea what he's getting into.

"I'm surprised you even know what Monopoly is, X."

X scoffs, "of course I do, it's from my era."

Creius frowns and asks, "which era was that?"

The look Creius gets is one of careful consideration and he feels that perhaps he's stepped across a line he wasn't aware of before the teen answers him, "the thirties, before the Fifth Storm."

The expression on Name Day's face tells him that he already knew this so Creius just nods and leaves it at that. "So, how often are you playing boardgames?"

The question is addressed to both of them, but it's Name Day that answers, "not as often as I'd like. Games are fun, but they're time consuming and it's hard to find the time to play. But since I have a lot of time at the moment, I asked X if he had any lying about."

X grunts and takes his turn and his eyes narrow at the card he's drawn before he slams it against the bed, "I'm done! This game sucks!"

The outburst surprises Creius, but Name Day simply reaches out with a hand and runs it through X's hair in an attempt to placate him, "breathe, it's just a game. We can play something else."

X grumbles and turns his head away to face the wall, letting his feet drop to the bed. Name Day rolls his eyes and begins to pack up the game, and Creius helps where he can, even though he's not sure where the pieces actually go, but he manages and takes the board from Name Day to place it on the chair.

"Do either of you need anything?" Creius asks before he sits down, but Name Day shakes his head, and so he settles back in the chair. "Have you eaten today?"

"Ate earlier," Name Day says and leans over to glance at X before sitting back against his pillows, "sandwiches, and a cookie, from the cafeteria. You'd be proud, I ate two and kept them both down."

Creius smiles and reaches for Name Day's hand, "I'm always proud. And how are you feeling?"

Name Day takes a few seconds to answer this question, before he makes a so-so gesture. "I'm almost halfway up the slope. They say once I feel like I've reached the halfway point, they'll consider discharging me. But I first have to meet with Madam Z and Enigma to see if I'm okay to return to light duties—" Creius frowns and Name Day hurries to add on, "—basically what I was doing before I crashed."

That makes more sense, and Creius nods, "sounds like a solid plan."

"What about you?" Name Day asks, and there's a gentleness as he squeezes Creius' hand, "you said you just needed a day?"

Creius hums and glances towards X, not really wanting to discuss his own state of mind in front of a teenager.

Name Day follows his gaze, "ah, he's asleep, if that is what you are worried about."

"I see," Creius says and then sighs, "I just needed a day because everyone was a lot. The mission, the Storm… you."

"I'm sorry," Name Day apologises with a smile, "I didn't mean—"

Creius interrupts before Name Day can finish, "I know. You can't control your bad days, and that's okay, it was just a lot to deal with at once, but I'm okay now." He smiles to show he means it and is relieved when Name Day looks more at ease than stressed by his words. Another sign that he is getting better.

"I guess we are both a bit of a mess," Name Day laughs quietly, and shifts over in the bed, patting the spot beside him. Creius raises a brow but moves to sit, lifting one leg onto the bed but using the other to brace himself. The bed that barely manages to hold two people certainly isn't made for three, but X is skinny and so they make it work.

Creius looks to the teen and says hesitantly, "is he okay?"

"He just needs time. I scared him," Name Day sighs, "you know he found me, yes?"

Creius nods, "I was hoping to speak with him, to find out what happened, but I could never track him down."

Name Day hums and rests his head against Creius' shoulder, "he didn't want to be found, that's all."

Creius feels Name Day's head shift, and glances down to see his love looking up at him.

"Why do you want to know what happened, Creius?"

"I need to know," Creius says before he can stop himself and Name Day frowns, "I need to know in case this happens again, I need to know the signs to watch for so I can help when you start slipping. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable by seeking answers."

Name Day sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, but he doesn't seem upset by Creius' words, just… confused. "Well… you aren't missing much, really. I am sure Hissabeth told you most of it."

Creius nods, "she told me the before and the after."

"Of course…" Name Day sighs, tapping his fingers against the newly healed scars on his arm, "X told me what he witnessed, because I don't quite remember what happened myself, but he… found me choking on my own vomit."

Creius stiffens, and Name Day presses into him more before he continues.

"The next thing I was aware of was someone shoving fingers down my throat, which is not at all a pleasant experience."

"But a harsh and effective treatment," Creius murmurs, familiar with the method, having used it himself a few times. It's a necessary cruelty towards the person that needs it.

Name Day hums, "they brought me here afterwards, and that was that. Does that satisfy your need to know?"

Creius nods and turns his head to place a kiss on Name Day's temple, "it does, and I'm sorry that you were hurting so much."

"What's done is done," Name Day says, "I am getting better, and all I can do is try not to let it get so bad again."

"You have done well," Creius says and wraps an arm around Name Day's waist pull him closer.

There's a knock at the door then before it opens, and both he and Name Day look over to see who's come to visit. Creius doesn't recognise the woman in the doorway, but Name Day seems to, nodding a greeting towards her, "Marguerite."

"Name Day," Marguerite smiles and inclines her head before her gaze slips over towards X, "I was wondering where he wandered off to. I hope he hasn't caused any trouble."

"We were just playing a game that Ezra sent over," Name Day says.

Marguerite chuckles and steps into the room, "you don't mind if I take him off your hands then? I assume he has spoken to you about what was bothering him?"

Name Day nods, "we spoke, he just needs a little bit of time is all, but he'll be okay."

"Thank you, I must admit upon treading unfamiliar ground with the mood he was in," Marguerite says, picking up X's coat and shoes in one hand before sliding over to his sleeping form. Creius watches as she gets the teen's arms around her before lifting him effortlessly, and either X is the lightest teenager ever, or this Marguerite is just strong. She smiles at them both, and there's something in her eyes that Creius automatically distrusts, "I hear you have been unwell, Name Day, I hope you are doing better?"

"I am, thanks," Name Day says and then nods to X, "take care of him."

"Of course," Marguerite says and then exits the room as calmly as she entered it.

Creius waits for the door to shut before he says, "she's… odd."

"She works for Laplace, they're all a bit odd." Name Day says and then shuffles down the bed and stretches out his legs, tugging Creius into laying down beside him. Creius does so and smiles when Name Day curls into him, burying his face into the crook of Creius' neck, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you as well," Creius murmurs and tilts Name Day's head up enough that he can steal a proper kiss, the first he's been able to in a long time.

"Look who's back!"

Creius steps back just before Hissabeth gets her arms around Name Day and spins him around, a wide smile on her face. To his credit, Name Day returns the embrace and manages to keep his feet as he also smiles, "I'm not all the way there yet, but I am well enough to come give you a hand if you need it."

"What a stupid thing to say, of course I have things you can help with," Hissabeth drags Name Day further into her lab, looking over her shoulder at Creius, "you can have him back later."

"Let me say bye at least," Name Day says, tugging out of Hissabeth's grip to step back over to Creius, leaning up to give him a kiss, "I'll be okay if you have things to do."

Creius nods and draws Name Day into his arms, "I'll see you later then."

They share one final kiss before Hissabeth comes back over and snatches Name Day away from him, already chattering about some new experiment. Creius watches for a moment, his heart warm at the familiar sight that he hasn't seen in a long time, before he turns to leave the two friends to whatever it is that they do. He does have things to do but there's no rush in doing them considering that it's mostly paperwork since he and the rest of his squad are on downtime until Yermolai's fit for duty again.

He's admittedly spent most of his downtime with Name Day, helping wherever he could as his love clawed his way back up the slope, and he knows that Name Day's appreciated his presence—especially on the days where he had slipped a little. But now that Name Day's been discharged from the rehab centre and tentatively cleared for light work, Creius finds himself unsure of what to do with himself. He doesn't want to hover and become an unwanted presence, but he also wants to make sure that he's close enough should his love need him.

But then again… he's not the only one Name Day can rely on now; he has his friends who are more aware than ever of his struggles, a support that has in turn, been extended towards himself which he hadn't expected. It's… nice, if a little unnerving but perhaps with a little bit of time, it'll get easier.