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sixteenth story for @badthingshappenbingo's bingo :)
characters; Cecil Scott, Archie Schmidt, some random characters who don't matter plus a named chief engineer who's not that important yet i haven't fleshed him out
words; 1,680
warnings; yelling, overstimulation, ???
prompt; sensory overload
Having sensory issues and being on a starship could sometimes be a difficult task. Usually though, Cecil had it under control. He’d come a long way from his overstimulation meltdowns from highschool.
But everyone had bad days.
It started with Cecil having to run extra reports and do double work with people out when getting their annual physicals done in Sickbay. Sure, no problem! He loved working in the engineering department, and the stuff he had to do wasn't even that difficult. But whenever he'd try and get the work done someone would try and ask him for help or simply try and talk. He wasn't anything special! He wasn't a lieutenant, or even the chief engineer! He was just an ensign who had a historically talented engineer father- so most of the other ensigns saw him as someone greater in the already lackluster group.
It was frustrating.
Still, distraction after distraction- Cecil pushed through and helped everyone he could. Finishing up his shift, he was making sure everything he'd done was in good order before he left. He was almost done when the chief engineer- Rainer- called him over.
“Ensign Scott?”
Cecil felt so awkward sometimes hearing his father's last name connected to him. Despite it, he turned to see the human closing in. “Aye, sir?”
Rainer- a thicker and larger human, definitely more on the “I got this big build myself” type of man- came upon the Firth with a PADD in hand. His expression was neutral, but his tone was sharp as always. “I just got wind of an issue in the plasma manifolds. I need someone to double-check the diagnostics we ran this morning. Think you can handle that before you clock out?”
Of course. May Cecil’s parental figures forever outstretch and expand his workload with their monumentous knowledge they definitely passed onto him with no problem. Nope! He was 100% a carbon copy of Montgomery Scott. No knowledge gap there at all. Nope.
His fins twitched slightly against his head, an involuntary response to the growing hum of noise around him- the clang of tools, overlapping voices, the faint but persistent vibration of the ship's engines. He wanted to say no, to insist that someone else could take it on, but he knew that wasn’t really an option. He didn't want to be rude.
“Aye, sir.” He replied, his voice steady despite the discomfort simmering beneath the surface. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good,” Rainer said, nodding briskly. “Send me the report when you’re done.”
Cecil watched as the chief walked off, leaving him alone with the data PADD and an ever-growing sense of irritation. His fingers tightened around the device as he made his way to the plasma manifold control room.
---------------------------
By the time he finished, his head was pounding, and his tail was flicking with restless agitation. The data report was sent off, and with it, he allowed himself a small exhale of relief. But the moment he stepped out of the room, he was greeted by yet another coworker, an eager young ensign who looked entirely too chipper for the end of a shift.
“Cecil! Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with-”
“Not now!” Cecil snapped, the words escaping before he could stop them. He didn’t wait for a response, brushing past the stunned ensign and making a beeline for the turbolift.
His foot tapped as the lift moved, his throat starting to close up from it all. He felt tight and stretched past his limit of things he wanted to deal with. When the doors opened he made way down to his quarters, taking a left and-
“Oh no! I'm so sorry!”
There was a collision of two people against one another, and the spill of a wet and sticky substance. Cecil first saw the poor nurse he ran into- or did she run into him?- and then down to his uniform. The vest his father had given him when he retired had some type of liquid on it- completely unidentifiable. It smelt like nasty medicine, however.
Cecil froze, staring at the mess on his vest as his mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. The nurse, wide-eyed and clearly frazzled, started scrambling for apologies.
“Oh my gosh, I didn’t see you there! I’m so sorry!” She bent down to retrieve the dropped hypospray and the shattered remnants of what looked like a storage vial. “I was in such a rush- this is entirely my fault-”
“It's fine.” The Firth grit out, feeling how his dad’s vest got uncomfortably wet- the substance seeping through the fabric and against the white uniform turtleneck underneath it. The smell was sharp, chemical, and it only added to the already overwhelming mix of sounds and smells in his mind.
The nurse straightened herself, reaching out to touch Cecil, trying to wipe him off with a towel that was also on the tray.
“Don't!” The harsh shout came out angrier than Cecil meant it, but he couldn't deal with another sensation to handle. The poor lass looked extremely sorry, and she flinched when he yelled. “I'm sorry, I have to go-” He hurried the apology, quickly dashing down the hallway to reach his quarters, face starting to warm with tears from overstimulation.
---------------------------
Archie had been given a day off due to a leg injury he received out on the field during an away mission, so he looked up when he heard the door opening and Cecil stomping in. The avian was looking through a PADD on a desk, so he turned around and immediately recognized the look and stance on his boyfriend.
“Cecil?” Archie was getting out of the chair when the Firth immediately started to hurriedly try and tug off his vest and turtleneck, but he was getting tangled up and stuck.
“Get it off me!” The overstimulated ensign screamed out, tears spilling from his eyes as he felt his body starting to shake. Archie’s feathers puffed slightly in alarm, but he was quick to act.
He crossed the room in a couple of strides, quickly grabbing at the vest’s belt and unfastening it around the poor Firth’s waist. “Okay, I've got you. Just let me help, alright?”
Cecil’s hands were trembling as he kept crying, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out any more stimulus he had to deal with. His breathing was erratic, a weak half sob escaping his lips when his turtleneck was then pulled off.
“Come on, sit down.” Archie knew better than to touch Cecil right now, so he let the sea monster sniffle and open his eyes before sitting down on their bed. When Cecil sat down, the avian followed, taking a spot next to him.
The engineer was still shaking like a leaf in the wind, and it was obvious he was still overstimulated, but he was calming down. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes again, trying to get some compression to restart his brain. Archie recognized this and spoke up.
“Let me help you.” It took a second or two before Cecil responded, but he gave a shaky nod in agreement. “Lay down, I'll be right back.”
Cecil promptly flopped over into his side. He sniffled and shuffled up further on the bed before there was a heavy and soft weight draped over his entire body. He let out a little gasp of surprise, but then it melted away as he clutched the blanket and held it closer. The weight pressed down on him- practically forcing him to lay still and calm down.
And he did.
His breathing slowed, his body relaxed and he stopped crying. Cecil felt the stress leave his body, and he gave a weak sigh as he felt his mind go numb.
Archie was busy putting his lover’s clothes away to be cleaned before their shift tomorrow but when he came back to the bedroom to see Cecil laying pancaked on the bed. The sight made him smile. “Feel better?” He spoke softly, making sure he wasn't too loud for the Firth.
The Scotsman was silent for a minute before he left out a mumble. “Aye… Much better.”
The avian sat on the edge of the bed, still a bit away from Cecil. The man still needed personal space. “I’m sorry you had such a rough day, love.”
Cecil shifted slightly, his tail flicking in a more relaxed motion beneath the blanket. “It was... Just too much,” He admitted softly, his voice weak.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
There was a moment of silence where the two simply calmed down from it all. Eventually Cecil moved slightly, scooting himself across the bed with the weighed blanket atop him. Upon reaching Archie, he reached his arms out and wrapped them around the man’s waist, laying his head down on Archie’s lap. Yes, Cecil was awfully close to the edge of the bed, but he knew he wouldn't fall off.
He let out a content purr when a hand combed through his hair, causing him to relax further. “My head hurts.”
“Do you want me to get you a hypo?”
“Not yet. I just wanna lay down with ye.”
Archie smiled. “Whatever you want.” He gently scratched behind Cecil’s ear, causing the Firth to give a little yawn.
The Scotsman snuggled closer to his boyfriend, feeling how his head pounded but he felt more comfortable. “I love ye.” He whispered.
The confession made the other man’s heart swell. He tucked some of Cecil’s hair behind his ear before giving a soft response. “Love you too, meu monstrinho marinho.”
Cecil gave a groan, his face burning at the corny nickname. It felt so much more embarrassing when Archie said it in his beautiful Portuguese. “My little sea monster? Really?”
“Shhh, shh.” The Firth was quickly shushed playfully, his cheek getting a little pat. “Quiet, meu amor. Relax.”
Despite being frustrated, Cecil knew Archie was right. He gave a soft hum as he settled down again and allowed himself to grow comfortable with his boyfriend.
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location: somewhere in the nsa that elijah shouldn't be!
closed to @byreticence !
every bone in their body is telling them to turn around and leave. they’re not meant to be here — heroes are not meant to be sneaking around the nsa like this, and certainly are not supposed to be going directly against the orders that they've been given.
still, even they can sense something is off; no one is telling them the truth, and all their publicist has told them so far is to not talk about the serum as much as possible, to stick to the script and say their heart goes out to the late hero's family.
but why?
there has to be a reason they're not sending the others after samael straightaway, they can feel it.
they're reaching for one of the cabinets in the dark file room, and just when their fingertips brush against the handle, there's a footstep behind them. they whip around just as quickly, feeling their heartbeat in their ears, now.
