#fictober20

"Alright, Y/N, you know what to do?"

"Of course," I said, grinning at the eldest Black brother. Sirius grinned back and passed me the bag of pranking supplies.

"Good. Then we'll see you on the other side."

With that, he took off down the corridor with Remus. My brother James hung back just a second longer to give me a salute, which I returned, and then he was chasing after his friends. I watched them disappear down the corridor, then turned around to start getting into position.

The Marauder's had been some of my best friends since I got to Hogwarts, even though I was two years younger than them and in Slytherin. James deserved a lot of the credit for being a cool older brother instead of a dick, but mostly they just appreciated that my trademark Slytherin ambition was mostly directed towards accomplishing the most incredible pranks the world had ever seen.

This time, we were going after Filch. The Marauders were only here for another few months before graduation, so they were going big to end their Hogwarts pranking careers. I still had two years left to go, but I wasn't about to let that sideline me.

I was friends with the Head Boy, Head Girl, and both of my house prefects. I was in the clear even if I got caught.

Although, I was usually good enough to keep myself out of trouble. My brother and his friends had stacked up the detention records, but I was only in a fraction of them. I'd tried to teach James and Sirius how to work their way out of trouble a few times, but for some reason it never seemed to work.

I crept through the last corridor between me and my destination, finally coming to a stop just behind a tapestry separating me from the hallway. My job was to draw Filch over here, and then keep him here as long as I could so the boys could pull off the main prank.

This was going to be fun.

I riffled through my bag and pulled out a few different prank products, then stepped into the hall. I was going to lay some traps before creating a bunch of noise to draw Filch in. Fortunately for me, the corridor was empty, so I had plenty of space to work.

I started a ways to the right of the secret passage, setting up tripwires that would trigger stink bombs and fanged frisbees. I worked my way backwards to the secret passage, and then I ducked back behind the tapestry to grab more supplies for the left side of the hall. Unfortunately for me, someone was waiting for me.

Regulus Black was standing over my bag of pranks with his arms crossed, staring at me with one eyebrow raised.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" he asked. I was frozen to the spot with a guilty look on my face, but it turned into a sheepish grin as I walked towards Regulus. We'd become good friends since we were both sorted into Slytherin, bonding over the mutual idiocy of our brothers from time to time. He'd never been close with the Marauders, but he'd never stood in the way of my pranks with them either. That is, until he became a Prefect.

"I feel like you can guess what I'm doing," I said, coming to a stop in front of him. He frowned.

"You realize that it's my job to put a stop to activity like this, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on, Reg, don't be a party pooper. You didn't have to come into a secret passage and get all involved in everything, you could've just kept walking."

"Not if I wanted to keep my Prefect badge."

"Name one Prefect who had their badge taken away in the middle of a term."

Regulus paused and pursed his lips, just staring at me. I didn't flinch, and finally, he sighed and gave in.

"Alright, I can't think of one," he said. "But I don't want to be the first."

"Eh, I guess," I shrugged, leaning down to pick up my bag of pranks from where it sat at Regulus' feet. "But I don't want to be the first one in the group to fail my part of the prank either, so... I guess we're at an impasse."

I started heading for the main corridor again, but Regulus stepped in my way.

"Y/N, you're not going back out there. Especially not with that bag."

"Regulus, you're not stopping me. C'mon, have a little fun! We're going after Filch, it's not like it's Dumbledore or Slughorn or something."

Regulus gave me a stern look, and so I put a hand on my hip and gave him one back. He wasn't backing down, unfortunately for me, and I saw him pull himself up a little straighter, summoning that regal air that his parents had trained him to have.

I sighed heavily, slumping a little and rolling my eyes.

"Fine. I guess the Gryffindors will just have to find a way to get by without me," I said, shifting towards the hallway again. "But I got half the hallway covered out there, so unless you want somebody else triggering it, I need to go pick it all up."

"And then you need to hand it over to me," he said, letting me pass but following me closely.

"Or... now that I'm out here, you might as well let me finish what I started," I said, taking a hard left instead of going near my finished setup on the right.

"Y/N, no. I can't let you-"

"You know, you didn't used to be such a stickler for the rules," I said, trying to keep him distracted while I worked on setting things up. "I remember when we used to work together to prank our brothers."

"That was a long time ago-"

"Ah, the good old days! Back when Y/N and Regulus were actually making a run for the Maruaders' title of Hogwarts Prank Royalty." I sighed loudly, drowning him out. Reg sighed dramatically, but I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw a small smile on his face.

"That was a long time ago," he said. "Before either of us had other responsibilities on our shoulders."

His voice sounded heavy, and I felt a pang of guilt. Sirius had finally run away from home last year, and had come to live with us over the summer, leaving Regulus to bear the full weight of his family. I'd tried to convince him to leave with his brother, but he'd refused.

I finished setting up the last of my prank traps, then stood and turned to face Regulus. As close as I was with my brother and his friends, Regulus and I had been the ones to get each other through every year at Hogwarts.

He mattered more to me than finishing out a prank.

"If this is seriously that important to you, I'll stop," I said, looking him dead in the eyes to make sure he knew I meant it. "I want to be part of the Marauders' pranking sendoff, but... you're more important to me."

Regulus looked like he'd been hit by a lightning bolt. He just stared back at me in shock for a few minutes, without saying a word. I'd always assumed he knew how much I cared about him, since we did most things together and had since our first year, but I guess I'd never said it quite so plainly.

Finally, Regulus looked up at the ceiling, then looked back at me with pursed lips.

"You're not going to get yourself caught, are you?" he asked.

"Are you kidding? Of course not!" Regulus gave me a doubtful look, but I just glared back. "I'm a Slytherin."

He sighed. "Fine. Just this once, I'll let it go."

I grinned. "Good! Then hurry up and get back behind the tapestry. It's time to trigger the distraction prank."

"Distraction prank?" he asked, but I ignored him as I pushed him back towards the tapestry. I tossed a few of the louder, exploding pranks over my shoulder, and then all that was left to do was to stay here and stay hidden.

Regulus let me shove him back behind the tapestry, but then he whirled around to face me.

"What are you doing? You're going to get us both caught!"

I stopped and looked at him, putting a hand to my heart and feigning offense.

"Regulus, I'm disappointed. Don't you have more faith in me than that?" He started to answer, and I was actually a little curious to hear what he had to say, but then I heard some of my first trap pranks going off in the hallway and I knew we had no more time to talk. "Never mind, shh! Filch is here."

Reg's eyes went wide, but I crept back towards the tapestry. As far as I knew, he didn't know this passage was here, so we should be safe. If I was wrong, I needed to know as soon as possible so we could run, and quickly.

I'd just started to peek around the tapestry when Regulus grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. I whirled around to face him, mouthing a frustrated "What?".

"We need to get out of here!" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, we need to stay and make sure Filch doesn't leave before he's supposed to!" I hissed back. "Distraction prank remember?"

"What. The hell. Is a distraction prank?"

"It's what we're doing right now! Now shush, before Filch or Mrs. Norris-"

"Meow."

Regulus and I stopped arguing and turned around as one, unfortunately finding ourselves face to face with Mrs. Norris. Her glowing eyes were smug as she meowed again, letting Filch know exactly where we were.

"What have you found, my sweet?" I heard him call from the hallway. We had forty seconds if we were lucky before he could get through my pranks and into this passageway.

"Run!" I hissed, grabbing Regulus' hand and dragging him after me down the halls. Once he got over the initial shock he put on some speed, and the two of us raced back the way I'd come.

We'd almost made it to the end of the corridor when we heard a voice shouting from behind us.

"HEY! YOU TWO! STOP!" screamed Filch. Obviously, Regulus and I didn't listen.

We flew around the first corner, and then I dropped Reg's hand and dug into my bag.

"What are you doing?" he called, never slowing down.

"I'm getting Filch off our tail and giving the Marauders some more time! Killing two birds with one stone! Now keep running and turn when I tell you to!"

Regulus nodded, and when we got to the next fork in the tunnel I chucked a magical firework down the right fork to make some noise. Then, I shoved Regulus hard into the left fork and pulled him to a stop in front of the first door.

"Alohamora," I said, levelling my wand at the lock without hesitation. The door popped open and I rushed inside, dragging Regulus with me. Then, I turned back to the door as quickly as I could and muttered the locking charm. "Colloportus."

Now that the action was mostly over, I could take a second to take in where we were. I'd chosen the first door we'd come to, which had put me and Regulus in a very, very small broom closet. We were basically chest to chest now, wedged in this dark room.

"Now what?" he hissed.

"Now we wait for Filch to pass us. Just trust me, alright?"

Regulus sighed and looked up at the ceiling, but then he lowered his head back to look at me.

"I can't believe I let you get us into this situation."

"Ah, come on. You know you love a little excitement in your life. Besides, it's not like it's that much of a risk. I'm cunning, remember? There's a reason our brothers are always in detention without me."

I heard Reg give a small laugh. "I have to say, I do love hearing about that."

"Yeah, well now you get to be part of it too." Neither of us said anything for a second, but then something else occurred to me. "Uh... by the way... you might want to get comfortable. If we really want to make sure Filch doesn't find us, we're probably gonna be here for a while."

"Hmm. Well, if that's the case, I'm either going to regret this very much, or it'll be the best possible timing."

"What?"

Instead of answering, Reg put a hand on my hip and used his other hand to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes.

"Y/N, I think you're going to be the death of me some day. And I couldn't think of a better way to go." He paused, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. "Assuming you're right, and we're not about to spend the rest of our year in detention... would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?"

I grinned. "Hell yes."

"Oh, thank goodness. I was going to regret bringing it up if we were stuck in here for the next half hour and I'd just made the whole thing uncomfortable."

"Regulus. Just shut up and kiss me already."

Regulus obliged, leaning down and closing the space between us until our lips met. I leaned into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair as both of his arms wrapped tighter around me. I couldn't help smiling after a few moments, and apparently it was infectious as he pulled back with a smile on his face too. We were still nose to nose in the closet, grinning at each other like idiots and, for once, not caring that we looked stupid.

"Reg, I-"

I stopped short, and we both froze as we heard something coming from the corridor. We looked at each other in panic as footsteps stopped outside our door, and I wasn't breathing as the doorknob rattled.

"Alohamora!"

Reg kept one arm wrapped tightly around me and used the other to raise his wand and point it at the door. Whoever was out there wasn't Filch, since they knew magic, but the two of us were still trapped in a pretty small space. Suddenly, the door was flung open and light from the corridor came flooding in, blinding us for a brief second.

"UGH! GOD ALMIGHTY!"

"NO! Mate, I'm about to kill your brother!"

My eyes finally adjusted, and I found my brother and Reg's standing outside the closet, looking at us in horror.

"What were you gonna do, eh?" asked Sirius, looking at Reg. "Hex a teacher? Put your wand away."

"No, keep it out," said James, pulling out his own wand. "In a closet kissing my sister-"

"Okay, enough of that from both of you," I said, taking Regulus' hand and stepping forward. "If you're here, I'm assuming the main prank went off according to plan?"

"Of course!" said James.

"Nice distraction. Filch was fuming when we passed him earlier," added Sirius.

"Good! Then you boys go do whatever you want to do to celebrate, and Reg and I will see you later."

I didn't wait for them to respond before turning on my heel and pulling Reg with me, off to our Common Room. We had unfinished business that I didn't want either of our brothers interrupting.

"Nice work little brother!" Sirius called after us.

"Hurt my sister and I'll kill you!" called James at the same time. I just grinned and didn't look back as Reg wrapped an arm around me again. I heard both our brothers groan, and I when I looked at Reg he had a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Messing with them is a fantastic perk of dating you," he said, leaning down to kiss my temple.

Your glare stretches across the stream, settling on the leader of the bigoted pack. You kissed the rock as you met his eye, a devilish smirk stretching across your face as you wound up. Bowers was scrambling for ammo but you had already released. The rock found its target with a satisfying ‘thunk’ leaving Bowers on his ass clutching his bleeding nose. He pulls his hand away, gaping at the overwhelming amount of blood that had already painted his hand before locking eyes with you.

“KISS MY ASS, HENRY!” You hollered with a triumphant smile. “YOU TWISTED FUCK!”

“What the fuck?” Belch and Victor began scrambling back, looking around desperately for rocks of their own.

The Losers spared wide eyed glances your direction as they unleashed a storm of rocks on the now deeply unsettled Bowers gang. Bill was the only one who hesitated, his wide blue eyes frozen on you when you turned to give him a smirk. You had been looking for ammo and it seemed he had the perfect one. You cocked a brow, your devilish smirk still dominating your face as you gestured to the stone in his hand.

“You gonna use that, Billy Boy?”

You threw a few quick glances across the barrens making sure your weren’t gonna get hit. Luckily morale seemed to be growing scarce over there.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t completely gone.

“Ow,” Bill hissed, right hand clutching his left shoulder. “F-f-uck.”

Your head whipped around on your shoulders again to see Victor Criss’s upper lip twitching into a satisfied smile as he looked at Bill. You returned your attention to your boyfriend and the rock he held out for you.

“Let me,” you seethed.

You snatched the rock up, stomping forward with a wild glare in your eyes that was enough to intimidate the bleach blonde. Victor was already on his heels and running, but you weren’t letting him get away that easy. You threw with all your might and watched with pride as it soared through the air and hit him directly on the spine that was poking through his back. He cried out in pain as he fell to the ground, his chin meeting the very rock bed that fueled the fight.

“EAT SHIT,” You spit. “YOU LACKEY ASS FUCK!”

~~~~

“Turn it off!” Beverly cried. “TURN IT OFF!”

The projector in Bill’s garage had quickly turned into It’s stage as It put on a horrific display for you and the rest of your friends. What was just once pictures of Derry, suddenly turned into pictures of Bill’s family - you missed Georgie terribly, having grown so close with him the year before he died when you and Bill first got together. And now you were all staring death in the eyes as It manipulated the very air in the room around you. Every click of the projector put you on edge, the stroking effect and of course the child eating clown tormenting you all.

It was hard to process your own thoughts as they were quickly drowning in everyone’s screams and your own fears. You clutched Bill tightly to your side, your arms linked and your fingers stitched together. Everything was moving so incredibly fast it was near impossible to process until you realized you weren’t holding Bill’s hand anymore.

“Y-Y/n!” He cried, tugging at the back of your shirt before it slips from his grip. “Y/N!”

Mike had already unplugged the projector, that much you knew. But you were fucking desperate. You lunged for the projector, gripping it tightly as you held it high above your head. With a guttural scream, you threw it as hard as you possibly could into the cement floor. It broke instantly into several unidentifiable pieces, the room now completely dark and eerily silent.

Heaving, you finally look up to meet your friends faces. Each of them were gaping at you, an expression they seemed to always be wearing around you.

“Well,” you say finally. “I think it’s safe to say we found It.”

~~~~

“How hard is it,” you seethed, your voice growing in volume. “to NOT wander off? In a FUCKING HAUNTED HOUSE?!”

You took all your anger and fear out on the door Richie was being held in. Your elbows were practically glued to the surface while your fists and forearms repeatedly pounded on the door. First Eddie, now Richie. You swear, these idiots had to me smarter than this.

“Richie!” Bill joined your side, pounding on the door that had closed all on its own.

“RICHARD!” You pounded on the door again, your anger turning to pure fear that was now stinging your throat and eyes as tears began to well. “This is not fucking funny, open the goddamn door asshole!”

Your hand wraps around the doorknob again, and you shake the handle, jostling it around in hopes something will cave. When the door flew open, you didn’t know whether to chalk it up to luck, skill, or it was all still part of It’s torment but you didn’t care. Richie was alive, and tumbled into your and Bill’s grip.

“Richie!” You hugged the boy tightly, then pulled away with your signature glare. “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!?”

“N-n-no t-time,” Bill says, looking between you and Richie with determination in his eyes. “L-let’s get outta here.”

A muted thump answered before you could. You, Richie and Bill all looked to the source of the noise to see the moth-eaten mattress from earlier was now shifting by itself. It looked as if it was filled with jumping beans. A melon sized lump grew in the center before the fabric split to reveal the disheveled and muddied up head of your friend.

He smiles at your twisted expressions. “Wanna play loogie?”

Your reflexes are faster than your thought process and you run forward. Just as a strange black goo starts to spill from fake Eddie’s mouth, your leg was swinging through the air. Your left foot connected with the left side of his jaw, narrowly missing the sizzling black ink and Eddie’s head popped off his body as you put it across the room.

It sails through the air, his greasy hair catching several cobwebs as it spins. Specks of the goo go flying landing on the walls and ceiling before the small head collides with a disturbing ‘thunk’.

“What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit,”

Eddie’s head lands in the far corner of the room where it rolls back and forth on his right ear before settling. He was groaning as if all the spinning had made him dizzy. The ooze of black goo came out even faster as if he were ralphing, and it was now pooling across the floor and inching towards their feed.

“Oh, that’s fucking GROSS!” Richie looks quickly to you. “And now you made him angry!”

“At least I did something!”

“Guys,” Bill pleads. “C-come on,”

The pool of black tar is spreading fast and you and Richie don’t have to think twice to listen to Bill. You all turn on your heel, only to find three doors instead of one.

Very Scary, Scary, and Not Scary At All.

Not Scary At All was the winner, Bill and Richie quickly decide. And despite your protest that it was all clearly a trick and the doors were misnomers, they opened the Not Scary At All.

“Where’s My Shoe?”

The light was turned on to reveal the severed body of Betty Ripsom and you had promptly decided you had had more than enough.

“WHERE THE FUCK WERE HER LEGS?!” Richie cried.

“I’ve got a guess but I’m not sticking around to find out.” You growled.

You cast a glance behind you to see the tar had eaten up most of the floor, giving you little room to do what you wanted. Luckily, you didn’t need much. You took a few steps back and looked at the door in the center, your eyes settling deep into the crimson letters spelling “scary.” You were certainly glad you realized when you did that unlike the door that held Richie hostage, this one could easily be broken down from where you stood.

You sighed. “I have to do everything.”

~~~~

“WELCOME TO THE LOSERS CLUB, ASSHOLE!”

Richie’s bat swung through the air and knocked the clown back. Pennywise quickly recovered and lunged for the nearest target with a disgusting growl. You quickly scrambled for a weapon as Mike stepped up to bat. He threw the fence iron rod at the monster but it was stopped midair when It’s jaw unhinged and out came several charred arms holding it in place. More and more reached out from inside It’s throat and made a grab at Mike who was fighting back the force of all the arms.

You never happier to have been too slow to save your friend when you saw Stanley pick up one of several spare iron rods off the ground. With a brave determination, he launched forward with a fierce battle cry as his torch came down on the branch of arms that now recoiled, saving Mike. It stumbled back, the charred arms slinking back into its mouth and disappearing and Pennywise stumbles again when Richie kicks It forward and away from him. Unfortunately that brought It right to Stanley.

“Stan, watch out!” Bill cries from your side.

But it’s too late, It’s head had already changed to the same horribly contorted lady that had you had already found attacking your friend. Only this time it was still wearing It’s clown suit, and it was racing straight for Stan.

“Stan!” You cried, already running forward after him only to stop second later.

Yet again Stanley roared, striking the clown across the face with the most furious look you had ever seen on him. Despite the horrifying circumstances, you were quite proud. You quickly fell back into line, ready to fight with the others and you smiled yet again when Mike followed up Stan’s strike with a devastating blow of his own.

The small moment of victory was soon cut short - a pattern you were currently getting used to - when a pair of red tentacles-turned-crab-claws pulled Mike to the ground.

“Mike!” Eddie shrieked.

Mike was able to barrel roll to safety as as It advanced on him. The end of each gigantic claw striking the earth and narrowly missing him and you and your friends quickly followed not knowing what to do. You couldn’t watch it anymore, and you hated yourself for what you were about to do but you knew you would simply never forgive yourself if you lost Mike, or any of your friends.

For what Bill wished was the first time of the summer, he felt you leave his side as you charged headlong into danger. Another guttural scream left you as you hurled yourself onto It’s back, your iron spike in front of It’s neck, both hands on either side of the rod and you pulled as hard as you could.

Pennywise’s disturbing, maniacal laughter grew even scarier, something you didn’t think was possible as he began to suffocate. You let yourself drop back down to the ground, your grip still tight on your weapon as you used your position to pull It down to the ground. It was still laughing through chocked breathes but it had done what you hoped, and stopped, Mike had gotten to safety with the Losers.

And for one glorious moment you felt indestructible. Until you saw it shift before you’re very eyes and your eyes widened, as did the eyes of your friends and Bill. It’s complete figure changed, starting with It’s head. You and the Losers no longer saw a painted lady, a mummy, a horrible memory, an abusive father, or even a late little brother. But they saw you, their friend Y/n, cowering and crying under the iron rod that pinned you to the ground by the neck.

“Please,” It whimpered, bottom lip quivering horribly. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna die.”

The real you was staring at the sight of yourself, the real fake you that you always tried so hard to push down. You knew it was Pennywise, but it was enough to make you choke completely. You were always so confident, and you were good at sticking up for yourself and the rest of the Losers. At least that’s all they ever saw, that’s all you ever let them see. Deep down you were terrified, and much more than that you were terrified that your own fear would get in the way of protecting your loved ones.

Like now.

“Y/n?” Bill’s soft voice called out to you, breaking you from your spell.

You look down at your blubbering face, tears streaking down your cheeks as you begged yourself for mercy. Several pleas leaving your lips when finally you pulled the rod back. Your eyelids flicker open, gazing back up at you and watch your every move cowering.

“Y/n?” Ben asks.

You don’t answer, you just straighten, your demon double cowering beneath you and it only angers you more to know none of this is It’s own fear. It was yours. It was mocking you.

Which was pretty stupid, considering you still had the spike.

You bare your teeth as you summon your strength, throwing the end of the spike into the ground, going right through your throat.

~~~~

You watched with head on Bill’s shoulder as another drop of blood from your palm fell onto the grass. You were trying to think about anything but the pain, and with everything you had faced this summer, you certainly had the pick of the litter.

“It feels different now,” you say, voice quiet. “And not just cause It’s gone, ya know?”

You even hate to let yourself believe that, but for the sake of your sanity and the chance of every getting another night’s sleep you’d have to believe it. And knowing Bill as long as you did, you know he felt it too.

You pick your head up off his shoulder and look to his gaze break away from the hills in the distance to meet your eyes. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and you know for sure he’s thinking it too. Beverly was leaving for Portland, Stan said he heard whispers from his parents that they might be moving and that was all on top of the heavy weight of your guys’ trauma that had already begun to drain everyone.

“A-a-at least we-we’ve got each o-other,”

You smiled, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Big sap,” you chuckled.

He smiled a little, enjoying the small moment between the two of you. But it disappears when his mind returns to image that had been replaying in his mind nonstop since Neibolt. The image of your cowering form that bothered you so much. He had never seen you - the real you, that was being confronted, that is - so distraught. He gulps, gathering his strength.

“W-what made you s-see that?” He asks.

You don’t answer for a long moment, and Bill fears he’s upset you. Or confused you, but he doubts that is the case. Finally, you look up at him, and lick your lips nervously.

“I’m scared Bill,” you croaked, heart pounding wildly at the admission. “I’m always worrying about you, I’m always worrying about Richie, Mike, Eddie, Stanley, Bev, and Ben. I’m always worried something is going to happen. I’m always scared something’s gonna happen to the ones I love, and I get scared that I’m not gonna be enough to protect them.”

You take a deep breath, swallowing all the air you lost in your unintentional rant. Somewhere during your confession, your gaze broke away from Bill’s gaze and now here you were afraid to even look him in the eye.

There’s another silence that Bill finally ends after a small thoughtful moment.

“It’s okay to be scared, Y/n,” he says, pulling your eyes to him. “I-I-It’s part of being h-human.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying your best to banish the image of your cowardly form from your mind. Suddenly the sting of your cut didn’t hurt so bad.

You looked back into Bill’s soft eyes, and shrugged.

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel too great either.”

He nudged you again with a charming smile.

“Well, y-you’re still a badass. Y-You’re always s-standing up for us,”

You chuckled weakly, sending him a smirk.

“That’s the easy part,” you say. “It’s looking out for myself that’s harder.”

“T-t-tell ya what?” You raise a brow at his sudden demeanor. “I’ll be t-the b-b-badass lookin out for you,”

You laughed, leaning in and giving him a lingering kiss that turned his cheeks absolutely scarlet.

You smiled when you saw this. “Thanks Billy Boy. Appreciate it. But I’d still like to work on myself a bit, ya know?”

“And then she had the audacity to say that she’ll take down my crown.”

Growing up with Heather Chandler had its perks and downfalls. On one hand, she always saw you has her one and only true friend. She has always invited you over at her house or unexpectedly dropped herself at yours for the weekend throughout the years, telling you about every single bit of rumors she heard or created, and the simple friendship gave you enough protection for people to not mess with you. On the other hand, she always expected you to agree with her on every little thing, getting angry whenever you didn’t, and she made a point to separate you from her group of friends. You were her best friend, everyone knew that, but you could not hang out with any of the Heathers or Veronica at any point. Crazy? Absolutely. You had no idea why Chandler insisted on that rule, but whenever you break it, she gets incredibly mad… and you would do anything to not see this rage in her eyes again.

You love her too much to risk losing her this way.

Which brings you to this morning, where Heather gave you a lift to school and proceeded to vent out everything that happened between her and Heather Duke the day before. The girls apparently had a match of croquet, like they usually do, only this time Duke mentally snapped. They fought like they never did, Chandler swears that the ‘little pest’ tried to slap her at some point, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your friend this mad before.

“I swear, if she even tries to ruin my reputation-”

“By doing what? Spreading rumors? People are way too scared to believe anything that is said about you.” She gives out a pout when she hears your words, both internally happy to have you on her side and frustrated because she wanted to vent more. “You’re the queen of this school-hell. You’re the queen of this town! Duke would be insane to try anything.”

Her lips stretch out into a proud smirk, her eyes fluttering towards you right before you walk into the school. “This is why I love you, (Y/N). You always know what to say.”

You feel your cheeks warm up at the words. It’s not often that she tells you such nice things, not when other students could possibly hear, at least. She always whispers those words in the middle of the night, when everything is dark outside and it seems as if any louder sound could break the peace, or jokingly says them after you managed to make her laugh in the middle of a conversation. But here? In school? Never.

You follow her inside the building with your heartbeat fastening, your heart sometimes skipping a beat just for fun. Your symptoms rapidly seem to falter down when Heather comes to a stop in the middle of a hallway, her eyes squinting at a specific point.

“What is it?” You look towards where she’s staring at to see Heather Duke wearing a stylish red outfit instead of her usual green one, currently talking with none other than Heather McNamara and Veronica Sawyers. “Oh.”

It seems like Duke has already put her claws into your crush’s popular friends, a few boys also dragged towards the girl’s new look. You can already Chandler fuming from the corner of your eyes, your worry increasing when her breathing starts to get louder and louder with each second.

“Are you kidding me?”

The dark tone of her voice makes a shudder of fear run down your spine, already putting your hands in front of you with the intention of trying to calm her down. “It’s… It’s just an outfit, you know? Red is definitely not her color! Her skin looks awful with it! She’s just gonna look absolutely horrible compared to you all day-Heather, Heather!” You get even more scared when you see her fists tightening, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before she screams and throws herself at Duke. “You know you’ll always be the prettiest, right? You’ve always been flawlessly perfect and-”

“That’s true.” You give out a sigh of relief when she agrees with your words, her head rising up as she clears her throat. “You know what? I’ll let her have her fun.”

“You are?”

“Of course.” She gives out a grin when she looks at you, her hand finding yours in a second. “There’s no way she’ll take my crown when I have such a beautiful girlfriend like you by my side.” 

Your breathing gets stuck in your throat as your entire face heat up, a chuckle escaping her throat before she drags you along in the hallways.

You’re not stupid; there’s a high chance Chandler is only letting you be her girlfriend so she can keep her popularity title…

“Spot,” - you dragged out the vowel in her name in feigned frustration and opened your dresser drawer flamboyantly for emphasis - “there’s still food left from this morning! What are you complaining about?”

I can see the shiny glint in the bottom of the bowl, she seemed to meow.

An amused chuckle left your lips as you shook your head at the begging tabby. Those piercing green orbs of hers always seemed to do the talking when she was quiet, but when she spoke so loudly like this, the “puppy dog” effect was in full swing. You would have given in, too, if it hadn’t been for the various feeding schedules you knew Data was testing.

He had been attempting to find her preferred supplement mix for the last couple of weeks, but she seemed indifferent to everything except the food she could always persuade you to give her from your own plate. After she refused so many of the different mixtures and flavors he had coded, he theorized that it might have been something to do with her feeding time rather than a picky sense of taste – and perhaps the added incentive of your spoiling her so much, which Data didn’t seem to mind.

After gathering fresh undergarments, fuzzy socks, and a comfortable set of loungewear, you crossed the carpeted floor and headed for the bathroom, passing by Spot as you went. “Data will be home soon and he’ll feed you, okay? I don’t want to interfere with the schedule he’s trying out.”

As if she couldn’t understand you – or perhaps she simply refused to acknowledge that answer – her meows kept coming until you turned the corner and disappeared from her sight. You set your wad of clothes on the stout countertop by the sink and began taking off your uniform, dropping it in a heap by the doorway to be put through the garment processor later on. With a tired, achy intake of air, you stepped inside the shower dome and began entering your preferred specifications on the small grade LCARS panel.

You were almost ready to engage the water feature of the shower – you much preferred the soothing effect it had on your body rather than the quick efficiency of a sonic shower – when you pondered in the last second whether or not to indulge in a higher temperature. Your finger rested idly above the panel that waited for your touch.

Would it be alright to let yourself have a hot shower for once? To just let the steam relax your aching muscles?

A knowing sigh escaped your lips.

It never ended well when you indulged yourself like this, even just in the simplest things. Hot showers were soothing in the moment, but as soon as the water turned off and you stepped out, your body was unable to balance its temperature and you would become absolutely drained and sometimes even purple below your knees. There were always consequences when it came to your autonomic issues – such as lasting fatigue, frequent trips to sickbay for sodium supplements to regulate your blood pressure, and even having to miss shifts on occasion.

You were of course grateful that the world around you had excelled to a point where chronically ill bodies were able to be more readily treated and accommodated, especially in a place like Starfleet, but there were still times when it was just all a bit much.

Your next thought was of Data. As your husband and closest friend, he was the best anyone could ask for, especially in your situation. He was always going the extra mile in your relationship to help you keep up with your symptoms and sure you were taking care of yourself at all times. He even checked in on you throughout the day by use of your combadges. He never hesitated to stop you from pushing yourself too far or doing something stupid – like taking a hot shower when you knew that the aftermath was never fun to deal with.

He wouldn’t approve of this at all.

But you were cold and sore from a day spent on your feet that had been riddled with dizzy spells, palpitations, and a myriad of other symptoms that hardly ever left your body. Very few things feel better than a hot soak after a long day, and a lukewarm shower just didn’t appeal to you.

Without a second thought, you raised the temperature of the water and let the hot entity coat your body in its calming pitter-patter rhythm. The heady feel of the steam enveloped you like a warm blanket and you released another sigh – this time peacefully, with a sense of long-awaited relief.

   Data passed through the door of your shared quarters and immediately noticed your shoes toppled over one another near the entryway. Subconsciously, he was acutely made aware of the sound of running water from the other room. He turned to follow the source, deducing that you were well enough to shower after a full day’s work, which was a tremendous feat for your body. Plus, it was purely ritual to say hello to each other as soon as you arrived back home. His turn of direction was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Spot, who nudged herself against his legs impatiently.

“Hello, Spot. It is nice to see you as well,” he knelt down and stroked the feline head to tail, contentedly smiling to himself as her curling spine conformed like putty to the mold of his hand, “I assume you are ready for your next helping of food, yes?”

The tabby meowed once before returning to a low purr.

“I thought you might be. It has been approximately eight hours and seventeen minutes since your last meal,” - Data scooped the satisfied cat up in his arms and carried her over to her dish, never breaking eye contact with her - “If my studies are correct, this should be an appropriate time to allow you your second portion since there has been ample time for proper digestion.”

It was only when Data had bent to reach for her dish that he realized she had only eaten a little more half of the breakfast supplement he had laid out for her. It had been infused with vitamins and other nutrients beneficial to the feline species, which he had hoped she would enjoy. Apparently, Spot was pickier than that.

Everything but the very bottom layer had been devoured, just until she reached the silver shine of the lowermost rim and left the rest to dry distastefully. His head tilted to the side as he contemplated all the possible causes for her sudden disinterest.

“Curious,” he simply stated.

Spot squirmed out of his arms and sniffed her bowl once before resting low to the ground in anticipation. Data picked up the bowl and set it onto the replicator tray. It dissolved into nothingness before being replaced by Spot’s dinner supplement, which he promptly placed on the floor. He refreshed her water dish and stroked her back dotingly as she scarfed down her food with an enthusiasm she sparingly demonstrated.

Data quirked his head to the side slightly, resolving to the realization that perhaps Spot was not meant to be understood most of the time, but rather accommodated.

When he stood, he turned back to the sound of running water with a lingering glance at his little tabby and made his way to the bathroom. He stopped short when he noticed the steam pouring out of the doorway and dissipating amongst the broad cast of lamplight on the ceiling. Without batting an eye, Data acted quickly. “Computer, override Lieutenant (L/n)’s controls of the LCARS shower panel and reset the water temperature to sixty-seven degrees Fahrenheit.”

There was a chirp as the computer relayed his directions before transmitting audibly in the living area where he stood. “Controls have been overridden. Temperature resetting.”

Data watched as the steam dissipated from the doorway and nodded to himself with an air of self-satisfaction. In a split second, there was a shriek of discomfort he had been expecting.

  You recoiled from the stream of chilled water and slammed your fingers against the LCARS panel, hitting every possible control to reheat the temperature. When it refused to respond, except with a blaring sound that indicated your action was blocked, you cursed under your breath. “Are you kidding me!?”

“Computer, why isn’t this panel responding?”

“You have been denied access to the temperature dial.”

“Denied access? By who?”

“Lieutenant Commander Data.”

You huffed in frustration, slowly inching yourself around the water and towards the curved glass door, sliding it open enough to fit your head through. “DATA SOONG!”

The sound of his solid and perfectly timed footsteps approached until you saw him standing in the doorway of your bathroom.

“What did you do to my shower?”

“I have prohibited you from endangering yourself with your chosen temperature setting.”

“Data, I’m a full-grown adult. I can choose the temperature of my own shower.”

With a pointed finger, he stepped closer. “You know as well as I that higher temperatures in your showers cause your blood pressure and internal body temperature to spiral. You have said yourself on many occasions that the immediate satisfaction is not worth the toll it takes on your cardiovascular symptoms,” - he paused only to jut his chin downwards and quirk an eyebrow at you in an imitating fashion as if to prove his point - “Have you not?”

A mock-gasp passed your lips. His matter-of-fact statement held a certain air of sass to it that you hadn’t expected—it was moments like these that made you wonder how people could think Data was incapable of his own emotions. It was so obvious in some moments, however vague or fleeting, that he was entirely capable of expressing himself.

“But it’s FREEZING!”

“I assure you, (Y/n), the temperature is not low enough to freeze. I set it myself. You are simply acclimated to the hotter setting of one hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit. It is no doubt a shock to your body to experience such a steep decline in temperature, but it does not put you at risk,”

“The chills all over my body would beg to differ,” you muttered.

Timidly, your feet inched back under the waterfall, testing its discomfort. You kept the door slightly ajar so you could hear his impending lecture, slowly dipping your head under and rinsing the lathered shampoo from your hair. Contorting your back in what was likely not Beverly Crusher approved posture, you made sure your sopping wet hair of ice didn’t make contact with your back.

Data continued. “In fact, I have done extensive research regarding the benefits of colder bathing routines. It has been proven that cold water actually increases circulation and can reduce muscle soreness. Some results indicate that human hair and skin is greatly improved in shine and condition, causing a ‘glowing’ effect.”

While listening to your husband’s voice and internalizing his carefully researched evidence, you found it hard to stay annoyed. He was devoted to you in every possible way, even in the ways a human partner would hardly have the patience for. Despite your tendency to return to harmful habits for the sake of quick pleasure – even just a hot shower or a bite of dark chocolate – he was ever-faithful and willing to help you each and every time.

A fluttery sensation erupted in your stomach, just as it had the first day you had met him. You silently hoped that feeling would never subside.

  All while he talked, you managed to withstand the cold long enough to rinse the scrubs and creams from your body quickly enough to avoid the first symptoms of common hypothermia. When the water finally shut off under your input, you slid the door open and looked around for the towel you had evidently forgotten to set out.

When you tuned back into Data’s conversation, your ears weren’t prepared for the mental image they evoked. “-last meeting in Ten Forward, Commander Riker informed me that he prefers cold showers over the alternative. He enjoys the rush that the lower tempera-”

“I couldn’t care less about how Commander Riker and his naked ass cheeks bathe. I’m cold,” you shivered, wrapping your arms about your chest.

Without being prompted, Data turned to the linen closet where a smaller replicator was located for such a purpose. He tapped away on the panel until it replicated his entry. Grabbing the towel, he turned and unraveled it as he came to your side.

“Here,” he held it out in front of him for you to step into, “I replicated a heated towel, not unlike the heating pad you often use for easing pain. It should be far more comfortable for you.”

You stepped forward and let him wrap you into the warm cloth. A shiver wobbled your limbs briefly as he tucked the corners under your chin for you to hold in place. Glancing down, you found that your legs were, in fact, not purple. Your fingers and toes weren’t numb or tingly. You were tired from the exertion, but you weren’t nearly as dizzy. It was a pleasant change.

Perhaps Data was on to something—maybe a cold shower was better for you.

You smiled up at him, leaning into his chest. "I know I complain about how you help me sometimes, but I really do appreciate you, Data. I don't think I'd be able to stay here aboard this starship if it weren't for you. Thank you."

"It is one of the greatest pleasures in my life that I am able to help you succeed, (Y/n). However, I do not require praise for my efforts; it is what any husband would do for his wife, in any situation. It was a condition in our vows that I fully intend to honor."

Your smile broadened. "You'd be surprised at how hard it is for humans to help each other sometimes...and I still want to thank you, just for being you-- and how willing you are to put up with me."

"In that case, you are welcome. But I do not simply 'put up with you'. You are not a burden to me. I value your companionship above all else."

"I love you, too, Data," you leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, which he responded to almost eagerly.

  You made your way to the nightwear you had set out and carefully clambered into them while holding your towel to your skin as long as physics would permit. When you had dressed and disposed of the towel and your uniform, you shut the lights out and followed after Data.

He stood by the dresser and pulled out his own set of pajamas you had replicated for him some holiday past, and proceeded to change. Although he did not have the need for sleep, he did enjoy mimicking a normal life as much as possible. Not because he was a puppet or sought solely to please you, but because Data wanted to belong—not only in the wide universe of sentient, feeling beings, but also in the simple warmth shared between two people under the intimate haven of a soft duvet.

He preferred imitating sleep alongside you rather than keeping himself busy with other things in between his shifts, which consequently allowed him to roam his own memories and run the occasional diagnostics.

His most frequently visited memories were those he shared with you and his close friends, such as Geordi and Guinan. But his favorites, if he were able to choose in an emotionally attached sense, were the moments he had spent with you, down to the very millisecond. Every last detail.

With an exaggerated exhale, you plopped down on the bed and began to brush through your hair. Data had moved to the living area where he checked on Spot, making sure her water dish was full for the night and fluffing her bedding that sat primly under the wide coffee table. Your gaze drifted to his kneeling frame as he tucked her into her own blanket.

“Goodnight, Spot. I wish you sweet dreams, although I do not understand the use of the term ‘sweet’, I suspect it is used as a synonym for pleasant,” he stroked her gently as he spoke, earning a quick lick from her pink tongue, “I do not require grooming, although I do appreciate your effort. If you should need me, I will be in bed with your mother.”

The smile that crept onto your features was effortless.