#conditioning tw

Leo cuts off midsentence, rushing from the kitchen and stopping as soon as he sees Aiden. 

“He’s here,” Leo says into the phone, “Thank God. I’ll call you later.” He falls into a seat on the couch and drops his head into his hands. “Jesus,” he says to himself, followed by a few rounds of haggard breaths that tighten Aiden’s chest. 

Aiden quietly replaces Leo’s car keys on the hook and toes off his boots. His hands shake even more than usual as he imagines the glare Leo’s staring into his back but when he turns around Leo hasn’t moved. 

All the lights are on, nowhere to hide. The house is immaculate, like maybe this is the first time Leo sat down since realizing he was gone. Guilt twists in his stomach. 

Leo still hasn’t moved. A shower won’t improve his fate but it will at least delay the inevitable. He grips the banister. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

His stomach drops. “I—”

Leo lifts his head. “Get in here.” 

Aiden cringes, sucking in a shallow breath as he slinks into the living room, trying not to limp. 

Leo squints up at him trying to see his face under the hood. “Well?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, hanging his head.  “I—”

“I don’t want to hear that,” Leo says, voice hollow. Even his expression is flat, tired, exhausted by what Aiden put him through. All for nothing. “I want you to tell me where the fuck you’ve been for the last four hours. In the middle of the night. With my car. And no license or ID to speak of.” 

He flinches.  “I—I—” The words won’t come. What does surface are tears because he feels so, so stupid for ever thinking his plan would work. 

“Aiden?” Now there’s worry in his tone, reaching down Aiden’s throat to twist his stomach further. Leo stands. “Look at me, are you okay?” 

He swallows a sob and nods. 

“Aiden.” It’s as much an admonishment as an accusation. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Any louder and he’ll be crying. It’s already half whimpered. 

Leo sighs. The sound of his disappointment makes Aiden want to fall to his knees. Leo reaches out slowly, like he’s trying not to spook a frightened animal and pushes back the hood. His breath catches audibly and he covers his mouth with his hands at the sight of Aiden’s busted face. 

Aiden breaks, dropping to his knees with a sob. 

Leo catches his arms and follows him down, sitting on the edge of the couch again. “Aiden—”

“Mmm’sorry. Mmm’so… s-s-sorry,” he cries. “I-I mmm’was, so, s-s-stupid.” 

“Easy, easy.” Leo holds him by the shoulder and brings his other hand to his chin. He gently turns his head to one side and then the other, eyes still wide with shock. 

His broken lip throbs, left eye swelling shut. He did what he could with some hand wipes in the car but he’s pretty sure the cut on his forehead is going to need stitches if he doesn’t want yet another disfiguring scar. 

“Are you…hurt in any other way?”

“No.” He doesn’t know if he’d be able to tell Leo even if it had come to that. 

“Did anyone follow you?”

He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to lean into Leo’s hand on his chin, collapse into his lap. 

“Do you think they knew your history?” 

You mean what I am? He shakes his head again. By some miracle, they hadn’t made that inch long leap. 

Leo only looks infinitesimally relieved. Aiden bites back a whimper as Leo surveys his face again, frowning. He stiffens when Leo pulls him to his feet. 

But all he does is pull Aiden into his arms. “God, I could kill you. I was so worried.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says into Leo’s shoulder. 

Leo pulls him closer, squeezing the back of his neck. Aiden ignores the pain in his face and sinks into Leo’s chest, letting out a shaky exhale. 

Too soon, Leo herds him into the kitchen and onto a stool. He feels unsteady now, without Leo’s arms around him. 

“I’m getting you some ice and you’re going to tell me what happened.”

“Yessir.” 

Leo turns around to level him with a look. 

Aiden wilts. “Sorry.” 

“Seems to be a lot of that going around.” 

He swallows. 

Leo gets the ice pack and fills a glass of water for him. “Would you take some ibuprofen?” 

“Yes,” he says, too quickly. 

Leo narrows his eyes. “Because it hurts that much or because you’re placating me?” 

“Can’t-can’t it be… mmm’both?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Leo says, tone biting. “Is it?” 

He hangs his head. Admits in a whisper, “No.” 

Leo sighs. “Normally, I wouldn’t let you make this choice based on the fact that you think it might earn you some good will…” Aiden’s cheeks burn but he forces himself to hold Leo’s gaze. “That said, I really don’t like the look of the swelling around your eye. And Delia will probably come up with more reasons why it’s necessary.” 

Aiden nods. 

“Can I convince you to eat something with it? Maybe drink a glass of juice?” 

He looks at his hands to hide his face. 

“I don’t even have to try, do I?” Leo asks.

He shakes his head, eyes down. The knuckles on his right hand are raw from his feeble attempts to fight back.  

“God,” Leo swears under his breath and Aiden flinches. 

“I…fucked up,” he whispers, another weak defense. 

Leo sighs. “That doesn’t mean we have to go back to this.”

“I-I don’t— I can’t—” He blinks back tears. Crying will only make this worse. Leo already thinks he’s pathetic. Hates when he regresses to a spineless pet. “If you—you’re not-not… going to…uhm…” He doesn’t think he can even say it. Half because he knows it would never happen and half because of the hard look in Leo’s eyes, confirming he doesn’t have to speak the unthinkable out loud. “If I don’t—don’t… How-how will you, you, mmm’mmm…” He’s perilously close to crying. Fucking inarticulate—

“Hey, com’ere.” Leo leans across the island and reaches for his hands. He surrenders them, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from just apologizing again. Leo rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. “Listen to me. I know you know this but I’m gonna say it anyway: You don’t have to do anything to earn my forgiveness.” 

He searches Leo’s eyes, their familiar brown. The creases at the corners that deepen when he smiles are shallow now. 

“I was—it was—so… mmm’stupid.” 

“I bet. But I don’t care.” 

He’s too shaken to wait very long for the other shoe to drop. “I don’t…”

Leo holds both of his hands in one of his and lifts the other to Aiden’s cheek. “I know. And I have to be more patient with you while you learn to trust that.” 

“M’sorry,” he whispers. 

“Shhh.” Leo brushes an escaped tear off his cheek with his thumb and Aiden swallows a sob. “How about we agree that you take the ibuprofen and have a snack because you need it and no other reason?” 

Aiden nods. Maybe one day he’ll actually be worthy of all the second chances Leo gives him. 

It takes him three tries to choke down two ibuprofen. He doesn’t doubt that the pills are what Leo says they are. He can even read the bottle. Recognizes the familiar greenish tint to the liquid capsules. His body isn’t on the same page, even as his ribs ache with every gag and cough. 

Leo keeps a hand on Aiden's back while he calls Delia. Aiden diligently eats his granola bar, chasing it with a glass of orange juice and trying to distract himself from thinking ahead to her visit with the warmth of Leo’s touch.  

“She’s off in a half an hour and then she’ll head over.” 

Leo puts Aiden’s empty glass in the dishwasher. He lifts the whole stack of neatly folded kitchen towels off the top shelf of the cabinet to pick a dark green one from the middle. Restacks the rest and replaces them before wrapping the chosen towel around the ice pack. “Come on, let’s sit on the couch and you can tell me what happened.” 

He keeps his hands in his pocket to hide their shaking, tucking his feet up under him on the couch. Leo gingerly holds the ice pack to his busted face. 

Aiden swallows the lump that rises in his throat. 

“Hey, look at me.” Leo waits. “I just want to know what happened. You’re still not going to be in trouble.” 

“I-I should… be. You don’t—you don’t, mmm’know how…s-s-stupid it was.”

“Easy, sweetheart.” Leo takes a deliberate breath, waits for Aiden to do the same. “Just start at the beginning.” 

He looks at his lap, tears brim in his eyes again. “I just—I just… mmm’wanted to get, uhm, to get your… mmm’money… back,” he whispers. 

Leo lets the ice pack fall. “Tell me you didn’t try to find that scamming dirt bag again.” 

“No, no.” Much stupider than that. “I-I… mmm’made an, um, an ad.” 

Leo narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“Uhm…for-for a…an, umm, a… mmm’companion.” 

“Aiden.” 

It knocks the wind right out of him, hearing Leo say his name in that tone. He shrinks back against the couch. Leo didn’t even have to raise his voice. 

“Are you serious?” 

He nods, shoulders up to his ears. 

“Jesus. Fuck. Do you have any idea—” Leo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I can’t— the thought of what could have happened…” 

“Mm’okay,” he whispers, guilt clawing its way up his throat. 

“No. No, you’re not,” Leo snaps. 

He doesn’t know why he’s defending himself when Leo is right. 

It could have been awful. He could be chained in a basement right now or headed back to WRU. Never seeing Leo again. It could have ended his life. 

“I’m, I’mmm’here,” he insists, half to himself.  

“Yeah, by the skin of your teeth.” Leo gets up and paces away. Aiden holds his breath when he turns back. “God. How could you be so impulsive? When is it going to get through to you how devastated I would be if anything happened to you? If you hadn’t made it home?” 

Aiden blinks up at him. “I-I—” 

“Do you have any idea what that would be like for me? Trying to get on with my life if you were gone?” He presses the heels of his hands against his temples. Aiden’s chest feels tight. “Can’t you see how much you matter to me? Way more than five fucking grand, I can tell you that much.” 

He paces to the window and stands there seething. 

Aiden bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Every part of him is shaking now, a storm of guilt and regret and too many other things to pick out by name, pushing him to the edge. 

“L-Leo?” 

He spins and Aiden flinches, hands twitching up defensively before he can stop them. 

“Fuck,” Leo breathes as the tears start falling from Aiden’s eyes. Aiden covers his face with his hands. 

Leo drops to his knees in front of him. “Com’ere, baby. I’m sorry.” He pulls Aiden into his arms. Aiden sobs against his chest. 

He feels it all again, in the safety of Leo’s arms. A fist in his sweatshirt. The slam of his back meeting the pavement. Boots against his ribs. Hands around his neck. “I-I was so, so… mmm’scared.” 

“Me too.” Leo rubs the back of his neck. “Promise me you’ll never pull something like that again.” 

He sniffles. “I… mmm’promise.” 

Leo holds him until he stops crying. Even then, keeps Aiden under his arm while he holds the ice pack to his cheek. “You’re going to tell Delia everywhere else they hit you so she can make sure you don’t have any internal bleeding.”

He nods. “I-I had it—I had the-the mmm’money. It almost… mmm’worked.” He just wasn’t fast enough. 

“Aiden. Listen to me. I don’t care about the money.” Leo looks into his eyes, one at a time to make sure he’s hearing him. “We’re going to find another way to get you an ID. And by ‘we’ I mean me and Delia. Alright? None of this is for you to try to fix.” 

“Mm.” 

Leo thumbs his chin gently. “Now you mumble at me like a teenager?” 

“Yessir,” he amends, biting his lips together. 

“God.” Leo rolls his eyes and pulls Aiden against his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his head. “You’re grounded for a million years. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

He’s joking but Aiden’s heart still rushes in his chest. He doesn’t want to be alone anytime soon either. 

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@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

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@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

Rook lifts their head with effort. Every motion costs something now. Grace leaks from them in pale, trembling wisps, evaporating before it can reach the floor.

“I’ve already told you,” they rasp. “I won’t.”

The strike comes immediately.

It’s not a blade this time. It’s a word—spoken in the First Tongue, sharp enough to split thought from memory. It slams into Rook’s chest and detonates outward, rattling bone and soul alike.

They scream.

It echoes. Heaven lets screams echo.

When the pain recedes enough for consciousness to knit itself back together, Rook is shaking violently, teeth chattering despite the heat. Their vision swims. Light fractures into halos they can’t focus on.

“You loved an incubus,” another angel says, voice calm, almost pitying. “You chose impurity. You chose disorder.”

Rook laughs weakly. It turns into a cough. Blood splatters the marble.

“I chose… mercy,” they whisper. “If that’s disorder… then Heaven’s broken.”

Silence.

That one always earns punishment.

Hands seize their wings, wrenching them outward. Feathers tear. Ligaments strain. Pain blooms so bright it whites out their vision.

They don’t beg.

They won’t.

Somewhere inside them—buried deep, protected, defiant—there is still the memory of Daveed’s hands, warm and careful, smoothing balm into aching muscles. Of laughter shared over cheap wine. Of a tiny, warm weight asleep against their chest.

That thought hurts worse than the torture.

Because it’s slipping.

Faces blur now. Names dissolve. Whole years crumble into impression and ache. Heaven is very good at erasing things without technically destroying them.

Rook gasps, forehead falling forward.

And then—

Something pulls.

Not pain.

Not command.

A warmth blooms low in their chest, fragile and impossible, like the first note of a song they don’t remember learning but somehow know by heart. It flares suddenly, bright enough to make the sigils along their skin flicker.

Rook freezes.

No.

They can’t—

They haven’t felt that since—

Their breath stutters. Their eyes burn. Tears spill before they can stop them.

A presence brushes against their soul. Small. Curious. Loving without reservation.

Appa.

The word isn’t spoken aloud. It doesn’t need to be.

Rook’s heart breaks open around it.

“It’s—” they choke, voice cracking. “It’s today.”

The angels exchange looks.

“What is?” one demands.

Rook lifts their head, defiant even now, tears streaking through blood and sweat.

“My daughter,” they whisper. “She’s one today. It's her birthday.”

That earns them another strike, sharper than the last, meant to punish sentiment. Their body convulses, wings screaming in protest.

But Heaven has already made a mistake.

Because the warmth doesn’t vanish.

It answers.

Somewhere far below, candles are being lit. A cake is being cut unevenly because Daveed’s hands are shaking and he’s laughing too hard. Someone—Madison, probably—is taking pictures. Stara is correcting everyone’s form with the baby-safe knife. Tyell is absolutely cheating and stealing frosting.

Amarah claps when the flames flicker.

The bond—thin, threadbare, nearly severed—sings.

Rook sobs.

Not quietly. Not neatly. The sound rips out of them, raw and ruined, echoing off holy stone. Angels recoil, startled despite themselves.

They can take memory.

They can take wings.

But they cannot take this.

Rook presses their forehead to the binding light and whispers into the impossible distance, voice shaking but sure.

“Happy birthday, my love,” they murmur. “I’m… I’m so sorry I’m not there. But I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The warmth pulses once, gentle and forgiving.

Grace answering grace.

The angels tighten their grip, furious now, afraid in a way Heaven does not like to admit.

They don’t yet know what Amarah is.

But Rook does.

Not in words.

In their bones.

And as the pain descends again, as Heaven tries to beat that truth out of them, Rook holds on to the one thing that still belongs to them— Love, freely given.

The most dangerous thing in any realm.

Later, when the cake is cut—soft, barely sweet, no sugar spikes—and Amarah smears frosting across her own nose and laughs like she’s discovered comedy, Daveed steps away to the window.

He presses his forehead to the glass.

Rook should be here.

The thought hits him like it has every morning for months now: sharp, sudden, unavoidable.

Heaven took Rook without warning. No flare of trumpets. No trial. Just a summoning that turned into captivity, silence stretching longer and longer until it became a kind of living thing.

Daveed hasn’t felt Rook in months.

Not through the bond. Not even as an echo.

That terrifies him more than pain ever did.

He closes his eyes.

They should be holding her, he thinks. They should see this.

Behind him, Amarah toddles over, plush bird dragging behind her. She presses her small hand against his leg.

“Daddy,” she says, looking up.

He drops to his knees instantly. “Hey, sunshine.”

She reaches up, touches his cheek with surprising gentleness. Her palm is warm. Steady.

“You sad,” she says, not accusing. Just observing.

Daveed laughs weakly. “Yeah. A little.”

She considers this. Then leans forward and presses her forehead to his, the way she’s seen him do with Rook in old photos.

Something settles.

The ache doesn’t vanish—but it softens. Like pain being wrapped instead of erased.

Daveed inhales sharply.

Stara goes very still across the room.

Madison’s tail flicks, agitated. “Did she just—?”

“Shh,” Stara murmurs. “Let it happen.”

Amarah hums, a low, content sound, and Daveed feels a strange, almost sacred quiet bloom inside his chest. Not the numbness Heaven inflicts. Something else.

Mercy, maybe. Unnamed. Unmeasured.

“Better?” she asks.

“Hi, Toms.” Dream spoke softly and calmly, like he was speaking to a child. Tommy usually hated it- same with the stupid nickname- but his ears pricked up the second he heard Dream’s voice, eyes snapping open and painting the lab in bright blue as he smiled, or as close as was possible with his disfigured maw.

Unable to stand up on two legs, both due to his twisted form and the smallness of the cage, he raced forwards on clawed hands and cloven hooves, immediately racing towards Dream’s side, scrambling so fast he collided face first with the hard light bars. Dream chuckled, reaching a hand into the container and scratching behind his ears like he was a puppy. Not even trying to hide his instincts, Tommy thumped his tail against the floor violently, flapping his hands and purring.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said, voice distorted and blurry through his new vocal chords. Dream had made sure that he’d be able to speak with them, of course. While a weapon didn’t need to speak, he quite liked his test subject, enough to grant him a name, which he’d reluctantly accepted over Subject 193. Still, it was a surprise- ever since he’d gotten his new mouth, perfect for crushing tanks and drones, he’d refused to talk, just sitting there staring.

Dream laughed. “What’s gotten into you?” Tommy was always a fighter- that was what made him perfect for the process. Earlier subjects, the timid and weak, faltered. Tommy’s defiance and spark, more than being entertaining and making him an enjoyable conversation partner, meant he was able to not only survive but thrive throughout the experiments. Seeing him like a lost puppy was bizarre, to say the least.

Tommy blinked. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” he repeated like it explained everything.

It had been a few days, Dream supposed, but he’d left Tommy with plenty of food. Even if he hadn’t, the alterations to his internal biology could let him go weeks at a time without a drop of water or a bite of food as long as he didn’t do anything strenuous. It just didn’t make sense- Dream would kill for a few days alone in his lab, without Punz constantly coming in to bug him about the next shipment of weapons or dropping off new subjects, and he liked Punz. Tommy always insisted that he hated Dream, so why wasn’t he happy about that?

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

“Are you scared of being alone?” Dream asked, his mouth quirked into an amused grin. The idea that Tommy, angry and violent and insistent he didn’t fear any pain, could be so easily reduced to an obedient attack dog just by a few days alone, was both hysterical and deeply useful. After all, Tommy wasn’t just Dream’s personal lab rat; he had a purpose to serve, and while his strong will was important, so was directing that towards the correct purposes.

Unlike the other living subjects, Tommy wasn’t going to be a bonus attack dog for Punz or a gift to anyone else who’d give Dream rare genetic samples to study, of course. Tommy wasn’t the first of the successes, but he was absolutely Dream’s magnum opus, handling the most mutations far more gracefully than many subjects that only had about one or two major changes. More importantly than that, he was the closest thing Dream really had to a friend- at least in the long months Punz was away on mercenary jobs- and therefore, he’d kept him as a pet and his own personal bodyguard.

After all, it’s not like he was a person anymore. That was the kindest arrangement possible for a beast built to kill.

Reluctantly, Tommy nodded his head, eyes glancing to the floor in embarrassment as his slit pupils dilated. Dream couldn’t help but grin at how expressive Tommy always was. He was aware that most people probably found him terrifying, a beast in a vaguely human shape, but as far as he was concerned, he was as adorable as the kittens he used to have as a child, if not more so.

Petting Tommy’s head again, Dream fished for the remote in his pocket for Tommy’s collar. A shock collar, of course, would have been cruel. Not to mention stupid- wild animals bite back if cornered, after all. No, this was more sophisticated, a design of his own. As he pressed the button, a concoction of chemicals was injected through the heavy skin of Tommy’s neck, sending an immediate batch of endorphins and serotonin into his system. It was a way to cause an instant feeling of satisfaction and happiness and served as a far more effective way to get Tommy to behave.

The carrot certainly held more use than the stick, after all.

Tommy chirped happily, his eyes squeezing shut in the closest approximation to a smile he could make. Dream continued to scratch behind his ears, before moving his hands to scratch at the base of his first set of horns. “Good, good. Very good, Tommy.”

“I’m not-“ Tommy said in protest, struggling to make sounds outside of the involuntary chirps and purrs out his mouth. “I’m not a fuckin’ dog, man. You don’t have to treat me like one.”

“Well, you’re not human, are you?” Dream said, the argument pre-prepared in his head. Subjects always got so insistent about it, so he needed to have a quick refutation. Extreme stress made the process much more dangerous. “Your mind and your body are different now. Tommy, if you’re not going to let me take care of you, who will? Everyone who looks at you would think of you a monster. Isn’t it better for me to treat you kindly?”

Tommy blanched, the dull grey of his skin turning white. “They- they already abandoned me, before I was…”

“Shh, shh. You know we don’t talk about ‘before’. This is who you are now. You’re Tommy, you’re my creation, you’re mine. Don’t worry about ‘before’, Tommy. This is your life now. Is that so bad?”

“Yes! No. I dunno.” Tommy whined, pulling away with a start like a kicked puppy. “I hate you.”

“Do you want me to leave-“

“No! No, no, no, please. Don’t go, Dream. Please.” Tommy hit him with the puppy-dog eyes, far more effective than any puppies could ever be, considering he had eight of them. “I’ll be your weapon, or whatever the fuck, if you just stay.”

Dream chuckled. “Chill out, Toms. It was just a joke. This is my lab, idiot. I got a new order from Punz, anyway, I’m gonna be spending all day here. Since you’re talking now, we could chat, even.”

“Oh.” Tommy made a whining noise again, a frustrated one, as he tried to hide behind his matted blond hair- one of the few things remaining from the original human boy that had become Tommy, along with the electric blue of his eyes. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” Dream shrugged, before pressing a button to dissipate the cage into nothing. Tommy blinked, unused to being allowed free, as Dream sat at his desk, fiddling over the next weapon design.

“Heel.” Dream said absently, and Tommy stayed still for a second before, reluctantly, slinking over to sit beside Dream, allowing him to run his fingers through his fur, something to keep his hands busy as he drafted new ideas in his head at a million miles per hour. He sent another dosage of reward chemicals through Tommy’s system at the obedience, smiling. “See, you know your place now, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Tommy growled. “I just-“

“Don’t want to be alone?” Dream laughed. “Then be a good test subject, and you’ll never have to leave my side. I might even let you meet Punz. I mean, he’s very interested in how strong you are. You should be grateful I keep you here, instead of sending you off to die alone on the battlefield.”

Tommy was quiet, looking to the ground with a conflicted look. Still, he stayed still, like a trained attack dog. He truly was Dream’s most perfect specimen.