#fictober21

I groaned. My head felt floaty, and I couldn't see anything. What was going on?

I took a deep breath. My entire body burned like it was on fire, but for some reason, it wasn't particularly painful. I scrunched my eyebrows together, then realized my eyes were closed.

Oh. That's probably why I can't see, I thought.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. It took me a second, but I recognized my boyfriend's bedroom in the Mikaelson residence. The windows were letting in a little bit of sunlight, but it seemed so much brighter than usual.

"Love?" My boyfriend's soft voice came from beside me. I turned slowly to see him, Nik Mikaelson, staring at me with concern.

"Hi..." I noticed my words were a little slurred, but I couldn't figure out how to fix it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, reaching one hand up to run it through my hair.

"I feel strange..." I stared off into the distance for a minute, trying to put my finger on it, but when I couldn't I looked back at Nik. "What's going on? Why do I feel so weird?"

Nik didn't speak right away, and that was enough to terrify me. He only ever hesitated to answer me when it came to the really, really bad stuff.

"Nik. What's wrong?" I asked, moving to try and sit up. He quickly put his hands on my shoulders to push me back down, and I expected to slam into the bed since he was so much stronger than me, but I didn't.

He seemed weaker than normal.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked gently.

"I... I don't know..." I tried to think, and a few flashes came back. One of Nik's enemies had grabbed me. She... she'd snapped my neck.

I shot straight up in bed, and this time Nik didn't stop me. I looked at him with wild eyes, and the anguish on his face convinced me I wasn't imagining things.

"I got killed," I said. I couldn't tell if I was making a statement or asking a question. Nik stood from the chair he'd placed next to the bed and sat next to me, taking my hands in his.

"Yes. With... vampire blood in your system."

"So that... that means I'm..." I looked at Nik in horror, but he just stared right back. It couldn't be true. I'd never wanted this, never-

"You're a vampire, love."

A vampire. I'm a vampire.

Fuck.

****************

It took me a long time to be able to process my new reality, and even longer to even begin to come to terms with it. I loved Nik, and I wanted to spend my life with him, but I'd never wanted that life to be eternal.

Even worse, he knew that as well as I did. Every time he looked at me, I could see the guilt in his eyes.

The whole Mikaelson family did their best to help me adjust. At least one of them was with me 24/7, and they made a point of keeping me from killing anyone, since every other vampire they'd known killed at least one person after first being turned. Elijah helped me come to terms with things, Rebekah was the best moral support I could ask for, and Kol kept me from going crazy with all the doom and gloom in the other aspects of my life.

Nik, on the other hand, treated me like I'd shatter in an instant every time he was around me. And in his defense, after I first turned, that was true. But I was trying to adjust now, and the biggest bright spot in my new immortal life was him.

I sat in his study without him, about two weeks after I'd turned. I just stared around the room, looking at the bright light and the beautiful paintings, hearing the shifting of the people in the house and the noises out on the street. Smelling the paint drying on Nik's most recent work. All my senses were heightened now, and sometimes it sucked, but it could also be crazy cool.

I heard someone approaching the door long before they actually reached it, and I turned. A few moments later, Nik entered cautiously, giving me a small smile as he approached.

"Hello love. How are you?"

"I'm doing okay," I said, standing and taking a few steps towards him. "I've been missing you, though."

"I know. I've missed you too. I just... well... I've been aware of a cure for vampirism for a few years now. It was part of an issue with the Mystic Falls children before I met you, but... I couldn't get it. I tried everything I could, love, I truly did, but... I failed."

My heart melted, and I wanted to cry. Tears welled in my eyes, but not because he couldn't get the cure. I wanted to cry because he tried.

"I'm... I'm sorry, love, I know that cure would've meant so much to you-"

"No, Nik, that's not why I'm crying!" I said, shooting forward (accidentally at superspeed) to wrap him in a tight, tight hug. "I'm crying because it's so sweet that you tried to find it for me! Even though it would mean we wouldn't get to be immortal together anymore."

Nik seemed shocked, probably partly because I was actively crying on his shoulder, but after a second he hugged me back.

"Have I mentioned lately how much I hate this whole heightened emotions thing?" I managed to ask through my tears. Nik laughed, and so did I. It felt good to be with him again, dealing with the increasing crazy in our lives together.

"I'm so sorry that knowing me got you into this, love," he said after a minute, calmly rubbing small circles on my back. "I can keep trying to get to the cure, if you want me to."

I sighed and pulled back, just enough so I could look at my boyfriend. I wanted to make sure he knew I meant the words I said next.

"Nik, we both know I never wanted this. I can't pretend differently." Nik hung his head, but I reached out and gently lifted his chin to get him to meet my eyes again. "But... it happened. And one of the reasons we work so well is that I fight tooth and nail to look on the bright side, no matter what it takes. And right now? I've got the best bright side in the world. I've got eternity with you."

"Do you really mean that? You didn't want to be immortal when I asked, before all this mess."

"I know. If I had the choice, I would've chosen to stay human rather than make the change. But now that I have changed... now that your siblings have helped me work through it a little bit, and I've started to see some of the upsides... I don't think I want to go back. I like the idea of living with you, and not having it end."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that," he breathed, leaning his forehead to rest against mine. I smiled.

"I feel like I have a pretty good idea." Nik huffed a laugh, then used one hand to tilt my chin up and pull me into a kiss.

Instantly, my whole body exploded with fireworks. Nik had been mostly gone since I'd been turned, which made this the first time since I'd turned that we'd kissed. I pulled back after just a few seconds and looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'm that good, am I?" he asked, amusement written all over his face. When I didn't hit him with my usual snarky retort after a few seconds, he spoke again. "It's always like that for me. Part of the heightened senses and all."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?" I demanded. Nik laughed, then quickly pulled me back in for another kiss. I kissed him back as hard as I could, and suddenly all those cliché moments where Nik had told me he was worried about being able to hold back with me made perfect sense.

You lunge inside your apartment and violently close the door behind you, your fingers rapidly turning the lock before you run directly on the right to get to your kitchen. Your chest hurts as your breathing seems to get heavier, your eyes spotting the set of sharp knives as soon as you enter the room. You take a leap towards them before you can even register a single one of your thoughts, your survival instincts taking over everything else.

“What are you doing?”

You let out a scream upon hearing the voice, your head snapping towards the origin of it in an instant. Your eyes widen as soon as you recognize Love standing between the kitchen’s entrance and the living room’s, a worried expression settled on her face. It worsens when she watches you grab one of the knives, your fingers holding it tightly as you point it at her in a threatening away.

“Stay back!” You arm trembles, the fear rushing into your veins as you look intently at her. “Don’t come close to me!”

“(Y/N)…!” She slowly raises her hands in front of her, her lips stretching into a hard smile. “You don’t need to worry…! I’m not gonna hurt you-”

“That’s bullshit!” Anger flashes in your eyes, tears prickling in their corners. “You think I don’t what you did?”

She slowly opens her mouth, hesitance lingering in her eyes for a moment. “Did what…? I’ve only been a good friend to you-”

“I know you killed Delilah!” The tears fall down your cheeks, your fingers turning white as you take a step forward. “You killed her, Love! And for what…? ‘Cause she was flirting with me?”

Her expression falters down to one filled with despair, her eyes saddening as she slightly lowers her hands. “Who told you that…?”

“Joe.” You give out a chuckle empty of any joy, your body shaking as you remember the last few days you’ve gone through. “Got to chat a lot with him when he had me trapped in his cage.”

A strange glint appears in her eyes, words flying out of her mouth fast as she holds on to that piece of information you gave her. “He did what?-”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent.” You make a gesture in the air with the knife, your features stretching into a hateful expression. “You were planning to do the exact same thing to me. He just happened to beat you to the punch.”

“No, I wasn’t…!” She takes a step towards you, your breathing itching in your throat as she does so. “You have to believe me, (Y/N)… I… I was planning to treat you so much better than he was!-”

“Better…?” You give out a hollow laugh, grinding your teeth. “There’s no right side to this, Love. Whatever’s going on in that psychopathic mind of yours… you are not a better choice.” You take a few steps towards the kitchen’s second exit, the one that would lead you directly to your front door. “Neither is Joe… and none of you are going to change that fact.”

“… is that what you think?” All sweetness disappears from her face, her eyes darkening just as she lowers her hands next to her body. “Well, you’re not gonna stop me from trying, sweetie.”

Your eyes widen when you see her take more than a few steps towards your form, your own legs moving quicker to get you out of the room. “If you come closer, I will stab you!”

“We both know you don’t have the guts to do that.” She gives out a hard smile, your breathing accelerating along with your heartbeat. “But we do.”

Slight confusion takes over your mind, your feet taking another step back. “We…?-”

You give out a yelp when your back hits something, or rather someone, the mere shock of it causing you to drop your knife on the ground. You barely have time to turn around that the person’s hands grab your shoulders tightly, your eyes widening with fear once you register Joe’s worried expression a few centimetres away from your face. You locked the door! How the hell did he get in so quickly?

“You…!”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)…” He gives you a smile filled with empathy and sorrow, his teary eyes begging you to forgive him. “We just love you too much to let you go…”

And yet, despite this and against all odds, you and your brother were shockingly close. The universe seemed to push you two together no matter how much you tried to stretch apart, and by the time you guys reached high school, you both stopped trying.

You were there when Steve attracted the attention of Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins and the rest of Hawkins High with his basketball skills. Girls started noticing him, the scummiest of guys would try to saddle up with you to get closer to him, or vice versa. Not that you let it go anywhere.

You were there, watching hopelessly as your brother's new craptactular choice in friends sucked him into this weird douchey bubble of popularity. This dragged you in by association but you never gave the nauseating duo the time of day or anyone else for that matter.

And you were there when Nancy Wheeler, an admittedly adorable and frustratingly sweet sophomore came into the picture. She had taken to your brother quite quickly as he had her, much to your frustration. You didn't quite understand it at first. Why it infuriated you so. Every time she became a blushing, giggling mess around Steve and not you.

And it wasn't until that fateful November night on your back porch that things began to change in many different ways. The unforgiving autumn air clashed with the tepid temperature of your pool creating an eery blanket of steam that floated across your backyard. The air wreaked of chlorine and cheap beer, and breaking through were the echoes of Carol Perkins's shrill laugh and your mother's stereo blasting Modern English's I'll Melt With You.

Your parents were out of town for all the wrong reasons and instead of getting a nice quiet night in you were stuck as a sixth wheel at Steve's little party. You sensed Nancy's friend Barbara Holland was having just as much fun as you were, so you tried to make nice but it didn't take. She seemed much too sour from how Nancy was acting and you suspected she didn't quite trust you yet given your status and affiliation with the boy who was stealing away her best friend. So you stopped trying. And much to your surprise, your eyes found Nancy more and more as the night stretched on.

And your heart sank into your stomach when she disappeared upstairs with your brother.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

You were there once more when Steve began to doubt Nancy's loyalty. When Tommy and Carol began to feed your brother's head with lies that turned him into someone you didn't recognize.

You were there to smack some sense into him when you found what he and his 'friends' had graffitied on the Hawk Theater.

You were not there when Steve reflected on your words, recalling how miserable he had been since he had welcomed these people into his life. And you weren't there when he told Tommy and Carol off, ditching them to apologize to Nancy and Jonathan.

When he rushed to the Byers house, still bruised and bloodied as he pounded his still raw and bleeding knuckles on the front door, the person he least expected to answer the door was Nancy.

"Wait-- Nancy? W-what are you doing here?"

His eyes flew past her shoulder, doing a double-take, and then bulged when he saw the boy he had come to apologize to, was handing a giant knife to his sister.

"Hey-- Woah, woah-- wha...?"

"Steve, get out." Nancy seethed. Her voice was low and demanding, a fierce expression on her face that hid the fear in her eyes. "Now."

Steve shook away whatever idea was burrowing into his head, knowing he didn't have any room to mess up with her again.

"You know what? I don't care, I just-"

"Steve--"

"I just, I messed --" he hit the doorframe repeatedly in frustration with himself. "I messed up! I messed up!"

Had it been any other day, you would have been proud of what your brother was doing here and now. Just as much as you'd be a little bit crushed when you saw Nancy visibly softening, only a little given the circumstance, at his apology.

"I just, I wanna make things right,"

Unfortunately, Steve had a knack for poor timing these days. He only picked the very moment you and your new friends had just summoned an inter-dimensional monster to wise up and do the right thing.

Better late than never, you supposed, given he turned out to be a huge help in the long run. Pretty damn decent with a bat though, and you turned out to wield some pretty mean kitchen knives.

You'd think monster hunting with your new gang would be a one-time deal. Nope. Cause guess what?

Yet again, you were there when the monsters returned with a vengeance. It didn't start all at once, not as much it had the first time around.

It had been smooth sailing for months. At least, for Steve and the girl you feared you had fallen in love with. They had reconciled, and while you were happy Steve was back to his old self, and that the two were happy, well... Is it so mean to say they were maybe a little too happy? You definitely could have done without the late-night visits. It always involved last-minute walks around the block on your part when things got a little too fun and it only shattered your heart when it happened.

You were there -- unfortunately-- when their activities ran a little longer and it was too cold to go for a walk. You'd have the TV blasted at full volume, the only indication they had finished was when Nancy came down in your brother's tee-shirt and boxers to get a glass of water or a little snack.

Her cheeks would flush an adorable pink, and she'd do that stupid cute thing where she grinned bashfully at the floor. And despite her shyness, and your discomfort with everything going on you two would almost always end up talking long into the night about anything and everything.

She'd go on about some teacher she had been trying to please at school, and you'd laugh from where you sat next to her at the breakfast bar, and say to her something about how to survive whatever hellish class she was in. Then you'd go on about college applications and how much pressure your dad was putting on you and Steve to be the best, and in turn, she'd smile and jump at the chance to help. She'd then confide in you about her growing guilt with Barb's death, and you'd cup her trembling hand and tell her you'd be happy to help in any way.

Cause you were, just as much as she was to help you. Nights like these became more and more common, and as they did, you allowed yourself to notice she was spending less and less time with Steve. You became the rock — her rock and it tore you up how happy you were to have that privilege.

She was there. She was there when you realized you had completely fallen for Nancy Wheeler.

And you were there when she fell out of love with your brother.

As the anniversary of Barb's death crept closer, you could see the toll it was taking on her. Any mention of Barb or even anything her mind could connect to her late best friend sent her into a panic attack. Poor Steve wanted to do anything and everything to help her, but he just didn't know how. You tried to convince yourself you were doing this for Nancy's sake, and you weren't being a selfish girlfriend stealer but you just knew. You just knew how to make Nancy better — how to help her.

You were there.

You were there when it happened. Nancy came to you, stiff as a board and eyes drifting out into the distance as she tried to collect herself. And when you asked her what was wrong, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder she burst into tears and swallowed you in a hug.

She and Steve had gotten into another fight, and by the sounds of things, they were over. You hated to say you had seen this coming, maybe because you knew on some level you had secretly, selfishly been hoping for it. Or maybe because the more time marched on from that horrible night, the less they saw eye to eye. The guilt of Barb's death was something you feared would eventually destroy her.

You were there to pick up the pieces.

"Nance, you're being too hard on yourself,"

"But I'm not, Y/n!" She wept, picking her tear-stained face up from her palms to look at you. She swayed slightly under your touch, your arm tucked over her back and rubbing circles across her shoulder blades. "That night, she told me — she asked me to leave with her and I didn't. I could have been there, I could have stopped-"

Another heavy and sudden sob escaped, interrupting her own words and you sternly shook your head.

"No, Nance, you just don't know that. You don't know that, okay? Listen to me," surprised by your sudden shift in tone, she quieted, her wide eyes peering up at you and making your heart skip a beat. "Yeah, alright. She asked you to leave with her. She even told you told she didn't want to go, right? But you didn't, and you did. And you can't change what happened but, was it your fault that monster was loose?"

"...no, but--"

"Did you know it was out there when you told her to leave? Or that it even existed?"

"Of course not, but--"

"But nothing, Nance," you plead, your tone begging and hand laid delicately on her forearm. Begging her to see the Nancy you saw, hoping by some chance to pull her out of the pit you were beginning to fear you'd lose her to. "You never intended-- you never could have predicted what could have happened. Fight or not. And, you should have your best friend here with you today. But you don't, and that is something I can't make better, no matter how much I want to,"

Nancy sniffled. She hastily swiped at her nose and leaned into your embrace, dropping her head on your shoulder as you two sat together on a bench in the park.

"What happened sucks. But you know what? As terrible as it sounds, some good things came out of that night too,"

She gave you a pathetic scoff and peered up at you with puffy blue eyes. "Like what?"

"Well," you began, your eyes drawing out of the park. Autumn was quickly settling in, the very trees around you set ablaze in color. The wind picked up and carried a breeze that swept over the two of you, prompting you to draw her in closer to your side which she eagerly accepted. Keeping an eye out for any prying ears, you kept your voice low as you continued. "For one thing, if you hadn't gone looking for her you probably would have never found out about the Demogorgon. At least, not in time to learn about it and warn the others. We wouldn't have been able to team up with Jonathan and it might have been there waiting for the chief and Joyce when they went for Will. And,"

"-they might not have made it back,"

"And Jonathan might not have his little brother. Or his mom..."

There was a beat of silence. One carried away with the sound of a child laughing not too far in the distance as his older sister chased him into a pile of leaves.

"But we don't know that. That's all... speculation."

"Maybe. But it's something to think about." You say, gently prodding her knee with your own to grab her attention. "You know what else might not have happened?"

Nancy took a deep inhale, welcoming every prick of sensation the cold air brought to her lungs as she propped her chin up on your shoulder. You considered it a victory when you realized she had stopped crying. "What?"

"We might not have become so close,"

To your surprise, a tiny chuckle broke loose. "Yeah right,"

"I'm serious," you smirk, giving her knee a gentle and playful nudge with your own. "Saving the world tends to bring people together,"

"I would have found my way to you one way or another," she says mindlessly, eyes lost in the trees as she hugs your arm for warmth. But you were looking at her now, your heart skipping a beat. It seemed only now to have hit her, and she can barely look you in the eye before erupting into a blush and shaking her head. "I mean- you know..." her smile fell at what she said next, taking yours with it. "with Steve and I..."

"Right,"

Just like that, everything changed. The spark of playfulness that had just begun to kindle was snuffed out and left in you both in the cold. Her relationship with Steve had just ended. She didn't need you swarming around her dead relationship like some vulture, and neither did your brother. You loved them both. And you couldn't ever bring yourself to force anything.

The thought to leave was tempting. And the beginnings of an "It's getting late" were jumping off your tongue when Nancy Wheeler changed everything a second time.

"You're right though,"

Her eyes were wide and glassy but a firey force of determination burned bright within them as she clung to you like a life preserver. Her voice was tight and rushed like she was ripping the bandaid off before she could even register any more potential heartbreak that might follow. But she knew she had your permission to continue when you relaxed back into the bench, your concerned gaze fixed intently on her. A very vulnerable, two-inches tall Nancy who was summoning all her courage into getting through the next few minutes unscathed. A Nancy who was only just now fully embracing a side of herself she had been pushing back, a confession not only to you but to herself.

"It wouldn't have mattered," she mutters in realization. Another sniffle tore through the silence left in hesitation, neither of you sure if it was due to her crying or the crisp weather. "I still would have spent my days with Steve. I still would have... thrown myself into his world. Blindly. And it would have been fun — it would have been... exciting," she smiles bitterly at herself and shakes her head, unable to meet your eyes.

Tears spill from her eyelids, racing down her pinkened cheeks and this time she doesn't wipe them away. It isn't until she regathers the courage to return your gaze that she clears the path for more with the quick swipe of her hand.

"but I still would have been lonely. I still would have been living this perfect, hallow life. I still would have been left feeling..." her eyes wander in a haze, lost for words until she notices your breath twirling in the air as it turned to steam. "cold."

You looked down at your hand when you feel her own reaching sadly for yours. You let her take it, watching as her fingers entwined themselves with yours; searching out your warmth and giving you what little she had.

"And I still would h- I still would have found myself awake most nights. Wondering when I'd get the excitement back. Wondering if I'd get that warmth. And I still would have found my way downstairs and," the corners of her lips hooked into a small smiled at your intertwined hands. "and I still would have found it. I still would have kept coming back. Every night. Cause you were there. Cause those late nights in the kitchen with you were more exciting, more thrilling, more warm than anything I had with Steve. And I was... terrified. Terrified to admit that--"

Another laugh broke loose faster than the last, cutting off her own words. It was bitter and victorious all at once; like she had finally triumphed over something heavy inside her. And she had.

"that all this time I had been with the wrong Harrington."

Her eyes were on your lips in the seconds it took you to entangle your hand in the back of her hair and guide her forward into a long-awaited kiss. You could feel her shock at first, but your heart melted and exploded all at once when you felt her kiss you back. Her first instinct was to pull you close; her hand reaching for the nape of your neck only to pull back along with you at the sudden contact of her cold hand meeting your skin.

Her forehead rested against yours as you both broke apart, allowing the lingering heat of the kiss to fill your hearts. No, not heat. It was warmth.

"I-I'm sorry," she says, pulling herself - even her icy hands - away from yours and glancing up at your neck.

You quickly shook your head.

"No, no. Don't be sorry, I'm the one who--" it was your turn to scoff at yourself, and you did so shaking your head. "who just kissed you. Hours after your relationship fell apart. With my brother." You closed you eyes and let out a harsh sigh.

"Hey," Nancy eased, gently pulling you away from planting your face in your hands. "It wasn't like that and you know it. I'm..." despite the pain lingering in her heart for Steve she couldn't deny what she felt with you. "I'm glad you did."

You felt it again. Her fingers traced the back of your hand, asking permission to lace within yours and you gladly gave it. The two of you held onto one another like a lifeline, and when she looked deep into your eyes it was only confirmation every word she had spoken was true. And your heart soared.

"I'm willing to see where this goes if you are," she said, and again you felt your heart shatter and melt all at once with guilt and pure joy. For so long this was all you had wanted. This was all some twisted wish fulfilling itself at the cost of Steve's happiness. At her's. The thought of her having second thoughts down the road was a whole other door you didn't dare open. You opened your mouth to speak your concerns but she had already beat you to it. "But I think we should take things slow. I don't want to risk whatever this could be. And... I need to focus on other things right now. But I don't want to do any of it without you."

A single streak of that warmth was now leaking through and racing down your cheek and reaching your smiling lips. All you could do was nod.

"I'd really like that,"

It was the first time all day she had shown you a real, genuine, toothy smile. And it was her turn to pull you in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and reminded you of her.

Pulling away, you took the opportunity to rest your head on her open shoulder. Not moments after, you felt her head rest over yours in turn and you drew in on long, shaky, blissful breath,

"You know eventually he will find out," and released an uneasy sigh. "I don't know what I'll tell him."

"We can tell him together. When we're ready."

"And if he doesn't take it well?"

"It will definitely take him some time," she says, and you feel her head shift on yours. She was looking back down at your intertwined hands. Not in doubt but reassurance. "I mean, hell, I'm gonna need some time... But it's Steve. I can see him staying mad at me, but never you. You're too important to him." You smiled at that. "But I have a feeling we're all gonna be just fine, we'll figure it out,"

You gave her hand a thankful squeeze as you sat in comfortable silence. It was always common between you two. Even on the nights you two had sought each other out. And like your brother, your horrible sense of Harrington humor and timing kicked in.

"As long as there are no late-night talks between the two of you," you quipped without thinking. You winced, hoping she had detected the total playfulness in your tone, directed only at the complicated history the two of you were currently weaving.

The split-second silence would have frightened you had it not been for the slight movement of her laughing. "No promises,"

Biting back your smirk, you softly elbowed her and she laughed at your soft, 'ah hush,'.

And as your laughter slowly faded away to wistful simpers, both your eyes simultaneously fell to your intertwined hands. Releasing your hand, she opened her palm to reveal a long jagged scar, and watched as you mirrored her actions to reveal your own. They were the scars left from the night you, Nancy, and Jonathan had summoned the Demogorgon. The day Will Byers was found — the day Will Byers came back to life.

Thor brought a lot of Asgardian mead. Too much actually.

Loki never was one to drink more than he could handle, most because of his need to keep everything under his control. If he drank too much, he wouldn’t be as alert as he needed and the outcome of that was never good.

You found out that was far from a common day when he was more… openly happy than his usual self. That quickly drove you to the conclusion he might’ve drank a bit more, but only a bit, right?

“Not this again.” You mumbled between chuckles. The moment you felt Loki’s arms around you suddenly in front of everyone in Tony’s small gathering, you knew it wasn’t just a bit. “Is everything alright?” You asked him as you leaned against his chest.

“Why would it be different?”

“I don’t know. Just checking.”

“I’m feeling perfectly fine right now.” Loki declared leaving a caring kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe more than fine.”

“Good to hear it.” You smiled, hands finding his that circled your waist.

Nat, who was near you at the bar, was having a lot of fun observing the unusual scene. Turning in his arms to look at his face, you touched his cheek lightly and Loki leaned into your hand so easily it made your heart do a weird flip.

“Oh, I love you so much, my love.” The giggle escaped your lips at the messy declaration — the type Loki rarely would let slip — was stronger than you. “I don’t know why you laugh at it. I love you.”

“I underestimated the whole asgardian alcohol thing going on.” You joked, but he didn’t see it as such.

“There is absolutely nothing to do with ‘the whole asgardian alcohol thing going on’ you mention.” Loki warned you, index finger bopping your nose. “You’re an incredible little midgardian. I love you too much.”

He smashed you against his chest before you had a chance to reply, his strong grip keeping you in place but it was also so comfortable and… safe.

“I love you too.” You told him with your voice muffled against his chest, smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

“This has nothing to do with acceptance or Santana’s sexuality, anyone’s sexuality for that matter,” you turn to look at Finn. “But it has everything to do with Finn blackmailing Santana into sitting here and listening to songs this entire week that she clearly doesn’t appreciate. This is Finn’s poor attempt at apologizing to Santana after he outed her, if she doesn’t want to sit here and listen to this, then she shouldn’t have to.”

“Fine, you can sit out this week,” Mr. Schue glares at you. “But you have to come to practice, that way you get a lesson in tolerance.”

You're subjected to listening to terrible song after terrible song throughout the week in glee practice, can’t they at least look into songs that they choose to sing? Like c’mon, Puck’s literally had nothing to do with the ‘assignment’! You keep your opinions to yourself, just sitting in the back of the class carefully watching the gorgeous Latina’s reaction to each of the songs. The only time you do involve yourself is when you see some creep of a sophomore being predatory towards Santana.

“Saw the commercial, smoking,” the kid fans himself with his letterman jacket. “Girls like you are a challenge, you just need the right guy to straighten you out. And I’m the right man to do it.”

“My fingers and tongue could get her off better than your tiny freshman dick ever could,” you saddle on up to Santana, not caring who might hear you in the crowded hallway.

“I’m a sophomore,” he stutters, giving you and Santana the same leering gaze. “And I’m just trying to make her normal.”

“What's the difference? I’m sure you’re still smaller than my dildo,” you give the kid a big fake smile. “Now fuck off and leave Santana alone, unless you want to learn first hand how good I am with the strap-on that’s in my bag.”

He scurries away as you start to reach into your backpack, and you laugh before heading to the music room. Santana and the rest of the girls enter soon after, and start singing Katy Perry’s I kissed a girl. Still not the song you would have chosen because it’s still not great for inclusivity, but at least Santana is enjoying it.

You come into school the next day prepared to sing your favorite song for Santana, you just hope Mr. Schue lets you. You had spent most of the night practicing the song, even though you sing it almost daily. This is the first time you’ll sing it to an audience of sorts, and the first solo for your new glee club.

“Mr. Schue, I was wondering if I could sing a song before the Trouble Tones go back to practicing on their own,” Santana has a hard to read expression on her face, but you’re sure she’s figured out you aren’t straight after the interaction in the hallway yesterday.

“I thought you had a problem with this week's lesson,” he responds, not looking up from the sheet music in his hand.

“I did, I still kind of do. Puck's song had absolutely nothing to do with the assignment, but good for him I guess. Girls just want to have fun was originally written by a guy who wanted girls to embrace the male’s partying ways and sleep around. And I kissed a girl was written by a woman who has never publicly been with a woman, and for all we know she could be straight. But offensive songs aside, Santana has seemed to come around to the idea of us singing to her, and I think this song is really important for her to hear.”

“Go ahead,” Mr. Schue gives you an appraising look as he takes the seat you just vacated.

“Okay, well, the song I chose is girls like girls, by Hayley Kiyoko. This song,” you nervously clear your throat. “I heard this song for the first time around the time I realized that I wasn’t straight. This song helped me realize that what I was feeling was completely normal, that I’m normal.”

You don’t look at anyone while you sing, instead you look at the wall behind everyone's head. You can feel the confused stares from everyone but Santana, none of them bothered to try to get to know you, so they all assumed you were straight. After you finish singing you glance down at Santana and it almost looks like she has a tear rolling down her cheek, but you’re probably just imagining it. Luckily the bell rings before Klaine can approach you, because as soon as you said you weren’t straight it looked like they wanted to start talking to you and getting to know you.

“You wanna ditch,” Santana chases after you, grabbing your hand and pulling you out the front doors before you can nod.

After walking in silence for a bit, you two wind up at an ice cream parlor you didn’t know existed. You two order your ice cream, and Santana pays before you can even think about pulling your wallet out of your bag. You two decide to sit at one of the tables outside, not appreciating the looks you two get from the older man behind the counter.

“How’d you know?” Santana asks quietly, after a few minutes of small talk.

“My best friend I guess,” you lick your ice cream before continuing. “She came onto me, and when she kissed me I finally understood while I was never into any of the guys we went to school with. We dated in secret for a while, but her mom caught us making out in her room one day, and she blamed me. Said I was a lesbian and I was forcing her to be with me, and no one believed me when I denied it. Well no one except my parents, and that's only because my mom had found my diary a few weeks prior.”

“I’m so sorry,” it’s nice to talk to someone who at least kind of understands what happened to you. “I could go all Lima Heights on her ass.”

“While I would enjoy that, she isn’t worth you getting in trouble over,” you smile at the gorgeous Cheerio sitting across from you. “But it’s fine now. I had lots of guys like the one that approached you at school yesterday say they could ‘fuck the lesbian out of me.’ I felt like something was wrong with me for a while, but then I heard that song and I realized I was normal.”

“Is that why you transferred?” Santana reaches her free hand across the table to grab yours.

“Part of it,” you nod, grasping her hand. “My dad got an offer to transfer before I was outed, and he was planning on turning it down. But then he saw how people were treating me and he thought a fresh start away from people who thought I was some predatory lesbian would be great for all of us.”

“I came out to my abuela last night,” Santana squeezes your hand tighter before continuing. “She told me that I should have kept it to myself, that the taboo was in talking about it. She would prefer if I were miserable and in the closet. Your song really helped, it made me feel like being who I am was fine, after my abuela shamed me yesterday.”

“I’m sorry that your abuela can’t accept you for who you are, and I know this is a lot easier said than done, but you can’t let her opinion get to you. What you did, coming out, is one of the hardest things you could ever do. And if she can’t see how amazing you are for being you, then it’s her loss.”

“Ya know, you’re kinda badass,” you scoff at Santana. “I like that in you.”

“I think you’re the badass one here, Snix," you giggle, licking your melting ice cream again.

“I've gotta know, did you really have a strap-on in your backpack?” you bark out a laugh at her question.

“Oh God no,” you giggle. “I’m definitely a bottom. But I did scare him away, so I call that a win.”

“Well even without the strap-on, I’d love to get to know you, your fingers, and your tongue better,” she winks at you, keeping eye contact with you when she licks her own ice cream. Is it getting hot out, or is that just you? “How about we go on a second date?”

“So this is a date?” you bite your bottom lip to conceal the big grin that’s aching to stretch across your face.

“Well I did pay for your ice cream,” Santana’s fingers start playing with yours.

“I’d love to go on a second date with you,” you glace awkwardly at your intertwined hands, before staring in her gorgeous brown eyes again. “As long as I can pay and it’s not at breadstix, I swear that’s all I’ve had since I moved here."

~~

"Let's go back to the office. There must be something we're missing." She tries to keep up with Mulder's long, athletic strides and finds that she can't. She should have kept on her sneakers. The heels squish her toes, make her slow and sluggish. Mulder stops to open a door and Scully, breathless, averts her face so that he doesn't notice. When his fingers come into contact with her back, right where they always do, at the tip of her tattoo, tears shoot into her eyes. Her glazed skin cracks and she winces.

Mulder, oblivious to her internal turmoil, removes his hand but the pain remains. Ahead of her, his form turns blurry. Every step is agony, like she's walking on coals. The heat spreads thickly, gathers in her stomach.

"Scully? Are you okay?"

How many 'I'm fine's’ are too much, she wonders as she stares at him, leaning against the wall. She's breathless, can't take in enough air. Her stomach revolts against everything and she prays silently like she never has before to please, please not be sick right here, right now.

"Hey." Mulder is by her side, crouching down to be eye-level with her. She doesn't want to look at him. She wants to tell him that she's fine. She wants to be okay.

"I'm- I don't-," she breaks up, sobs; she doesn't want to cry but her tears fall anyway. If she doesn't say it, if she doesn't admit she's sick, then she won't be, right?

"It's okay," Mulder says and touches her arm. "Do you- can you walk on your own? Do you need an ambulance? I'm gonna call-"

"Mulder, no." She puts her hand on his where it lays on her arm. "I just want to go home. Just... home."

He helps her out of the building and into the car. They're taking baby steps. One foot in front of the other as if she's just learned how to do it. Mulder is quiet next to her but his thoughts are screaming, piercing through her mind.

"What about work?" She asks once they start driving. Her tongue feels three times its normal size and it's a struggle to get the words out.

"Work can wait. It's not that important."

Any other day she would protest. Any other day she'd tell him she was better already. Today, though, she stays silent, accepts the fate her body has inflicted on her.

She leans her head against the cold glass window, watches the scenery pass by. It makes her nauseous. They drive past roadkill; a small fox, its life over before it's really begun. Scully closes her eyes against the pain, against the unfairness of it all.

She doesn't remember falling asleep but when she opens her eyes again, they're at her apartment building and she's in Mulder's arms.

"What are you doing?" She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"Didn't have the heart to wake you," he says, his words in her hair, like new fallen snow. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," she says, too exhausted to lie.

"We're almost there. Can you stand? I need to unlock the door." As if she were his grandmother's porcelain, he puts her down and opens the door.

"I can walk," she says quickly before Mulder can pick her up again. He follows her like a guard dog, watching her every move. She walks straight to her bedroom and collapses on the bed.

"Do you want me to call your mother?"

"What for?" She mumbles, feeling Mulder remove her shoes.

He doesn't answer right away but he's still there because she feels his hand on her ankle.

"Mulder?" She asks.

"To help you... get changed, eat something. Do you want me to call her?"

"No. I'm fine." As long as she doesn't open her eyes again. She will manage. Her clothes are loose enough to sleep in; she's done so before.

"Tell me if anything is uncomfortable." She hears Mulder's voice, but it doesn't register. The sound of a zipper tears through the silence and as cold air hits her legs, she realizes it's her own. Mulder is removing her pants. She should say something, stop him. But she can't. The words won't come. She shivers and Mulder mumbles an apology, quickly finding her pajamas.

"I won't look," he swears with a gentle smile that distracts her for just a moment. He opens her blouse, one button at a time. "Bra on or off?" He asks, glancing at her face. Only someone who's never worn a bra would ask that question.

"Off," she manages to say. Mulder nods, keeps his eyes on her face and takes her bra off. How often has she dreamed about Mulder undressing her? How many fantasies has she had? None have ever been like this. Not a single one. She’d scream if she had the strength.

He helps her into an oversized t-shirt that she's certain used to be his. Neither comments on it.

"Lie down," he says. "I'll get you your meds." Scully listens to him moving around in her kitchen and swearing once or twice. She can't move. Her eyes keep falling shut, too heavy to stay open. She fights it, fights everything. Somewhere in her apartment, Mulder is talking. She hears snippets, deducts that he must be talking to her mother. 'Tired' is one word, 'worried' and 'stubborn' are uttered as well.

"I'll take care of, Mrs. Scully. I won’t leave her alone," Mulder says close to her bedroom. Fresh tears threaten to fall. This is everything she didn't want. Nothing was supposed to change. She's a medical doctor and she should know better. This is only the beginning.

"I'll call you if anything changes. Bye." Mulder walks back into the bedroom and sets a cup of tea and crackers on her nightstand. He leaves again, returns with a small bucket, a towel, and another blanket.

"I hope you're not crying cause the tea tastes bad." She touches her cheek, unaware that she's started crying. "Do you need anything else? Do we need to call your doctor?"

We. Not her, we. She merely shakes her head no, not trusting her voice.

"I won't leave. Anything you need, just tell me. Okay? Anything at all." He touches her forehead, his fingertips gentle against her skin.

"Try to get some rest, hm?"

"Where are you going?" She asks him.

"The living- I can stay here if you want." She's too tired to fight it. She knows in half an hour, an hour tops, her limbs will feel as if they're freezing. She will shiver and there will be nothing that can keep her warm. Except... tonight, she wants to take. This disease is taking from her every day, chipping away at her life every passing moment. Tonight she'll, too, be outlandishly demanding.

"Stay," she whispers. "Please stay."