#tinyfic

She rapped softly on the door before sliding it open. "Malfoy?" Her voice was careful, mentally preparing herself to be scolded or shouted at by him.

Barely registering the intrusion, he raised his head just enough to look past her shoulder and into the hallway, watching as the last of the students filed out of the train and grouped together near their friends once again.

"Are you alright?" She tried again, wringing her hands in front of her anxiously. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater.  

"I'm as well as I deserve to be." He dragged his fingers through his hair and grabbed his briefcase, holding it at his side. "Stick close to your friends this year." He warned, his eyes ghosting towards the overhead compartments. "Whatever danger Potter finds himself in is nothing compared to what the Death Eaters have planned for you." She flinched at the words, pressing her back against the exit as he remained a safe distance away on the other side of the compartment.

"Would you hurt me, Malfoy?" Her voice broke off by the end of the sentence, terrified of his answer. His eyes flashed towards the empty overhead storage area again and her brows pulled together in confusion.

"No," He answered simply, looking disappointed in himself at the admission. "I wouldn't hurt you, Granger." He took a single step forward and tipped his head. Before she moved aside, she brandished her wand and aimed it at the overhead compartment, a muttered spell on her lips. She saw Malfoy's impressed grin from the corner of her eye as an invisible force hit the ground. A muttered curse escaped her friends lips as Harry pulled the cloak from his body, looking at Hermione with annoyance.

from here 

3, goodbye; 17, to distract; 26, as an apology; 28, as a lie; 38, because they’re running out of time.

-

Grabbing A-Yuan had been instinctual once the fighting had broken out- though fighting was a rather generous term. Wei Wuxian knew the Wen remnants, his new family, his people, wouldn’t stand a chance without him there, but the truth of the matter was he had the sinking feeling they wouldn’t stand a chance regardless.

They were outnumbered, ten thousand to one it felt like, and the onslaught would not stop until he was dead. Although he would fight tooth and nail to defend what he’d sworn to protect, what he’d worked so hard to build, he couldn’t allow a small child to be caught up in the battle.

If he could guarantee the survival of at least one life, he would do whatever it took.

A-Yuan fussed and struggled in his grip at first, confused as to why they were running away from home when their family was screaming and strange men were storming the mountain. Wei Wuxian merely held him tighter to his chest, covering his ears however he could, drowning out the sounds of battle with his own heartbeat. 

The air burned his lungs as he breathed, an all too familiar feeling he’d tried so hard to forget. To think Jiang Cheng had been beside him the last time his home had been set on fire, only to be the one burning it now. 

But there was no time for reminiscence or regret. He could deal with all that once he faced Jiang Cheng again. Right now, he had to find a place to hide...

Salvation came in the form of a hollowed-out tree trunk, the bark scorched and flaking off. The space was just big enough to hold a small child, and Wei Wuxian knew it was this or nothing. He could only pray the tree did not re-ignite with A-Yuan still inside.

Crouching down, he placed A-Yuan inside the tree, but found him clutching desperately to his robes once he tried to move away. Their eyes met then, A-Yuan’s sweet little round face brimming with concern.

Wei Wuxian felt himself falter, if only briefly, as he cupped the child’s face in his hands. A-Yuan brought one hand away from his robes in favor of holding his hand to his cheek.

“Xian-gege?” He asked, his tiny voice weak and quivering. 

Wei Wuxian’s heart broke then. This child knew nothing of what was happening, he understood nothing of what was to come, but he knew it was bad and he knew Wei Wuxian was trying to leave him behind. 

“Listen to me closely,” he whispered, knowing he only had minutes, perhaps seconds, “everyone is in danger, and I need to go back and help. You have to stay here where it’s safe- don’t come out until you can’t hear anything anymore. Okay? Not until everything is completely quiet.”

“I can help too!” A-Yuan quickly insisted, his hand once again flying out to clutch Wei Wuxian’s robes. “I can!”

The sound of blades clashing seemed to get closer. Wei Wuxian could not risk dragging this out, even though this was by far the most painful thing he’d ever done. Forcing a smile, he stroked A-Yuan’s cheeks and nodded.

“You can, you can help me by staying right here.” He brushed some hair away from A-Yuan’s face, making sure he was snug within the tree trunk with his eyes solely on him. “That’ll be the source of my power. With you in this tree, I can’t lose.”

A-Yuan didn’t seem convinced, and who could blame him? But Wei Wuxian was out of options. Out of options and out of time. 

“You’ll come back?” A-Yuan’s eyes filled with tears as he tried to process being left behind, left alone.

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian lied, and in that moment it was the easiest lie he’d ever told. A-Yuan stopped crying, his eyes now gleaming with a hopeful spark. “I’ll come right back to bury you with the radishes.”

A-Yuan gave a little giggle and slowly let go of Wei Wuxian’s robes, but he immediately reached for him again when he began to pull back.

“But you have to promise,” Wei Wuxian gently pried A-Yuan’s hands away, “that you’ll stay here until all the fighting stops and you can’t hear a thing. No matter how long it takes.”

It wasn’t fair. They hadn’t had enough time together; if he’d known, he would’ve spent less time teasing the little boy and more time spoiling him rotten. He would’ve told him bedtime stories every night, he would’ve carried him on his shoulders every day, he would’ve even made him his own little Chenqing to chew on.

It was absurd to be thinking such things when A-Yuan wasn’t even his own son. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but the love he felt for the boy was so strong, so unconditional, that mentally calling himself his father almost felt natural- but it only made this moment hurt all the more.

Though A-Yuan was clearly scared and unsure, he wanted to help Wei Wuxian, and he believed him when he said he’d return for him. That lie was what made him agree. “I promise.”

I should’ve watched you grow up. The thought pierced Wei Wuxian’s heart as he instantly gathered A-Yuan in his arms and kissed his forehead. 

I should’ve raised you. He forced himself to place A-Yuan back inside the trunk and kissed his little hands, his cheeks, his nose. 

He never wanted to forget this child, nor did he ever want to be forgotten by him. He never wanted to forget the love A-Yuan had caused to bloom within him, amidst the rage and hatred. I should’ve done better. 

The heat was unbearable now, as were the screams ringing through the air. Wei Wuxian could only hope A-Yuan stayed true to his word as he closed his robes up tighter.

“I’ll be back,” he lied again, though he hoped against hope that it wouldn’t need to be a lie, “and we can go find you some new toys, okay?”

“I’ll wait,” A-Yuan nodded sleepily, the commotion having exhausted him. “Until everything is quiet...”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward to give A-Yuan’s forehead one last kiss. He pulled back after feeling a tiny hand to his cheek; if he stayed any longer, he’d never leave, and all would have been for nothing. 

A/N: wrote this on my phone while taking my government-approved daily exercise. It’s an absolute sliver of a thing but I’ve had a variation of this scene in my head for a long time and today I decided just to let it out. Tagging @today-in-fic

It was the first sunny Friday of the year and half the Hoover building had flocked to Casey’s when the clock struck five, Skinner amongst them. It didn’t take him long to spot both halves of the X Files division in the crowd of agents at the bar. Enjoying the chance to observe his wayward charges out in the wild, he was quietly pleased that the swell of week-weary agents desperate for the release of an ice cold beer pushed him in their direction. Just as he got close enough to say hello, the background music was turned up in time for the chorus of ‘California Girls’. A visibly delighted Mulder tapped the inside of his partner’s wrist, which had been resting on the bar, and raised his eyebrows at her as he gazed down with an expression that Skinner could only describe as ‘mooning’.

Making the connection, Skinner blurted out, “I didn’t know you were from California, Agent Scully”. Scully jumped, having not realised her boss was standing right behind them, and blushed as red as her hair. Mulder stilled his ministrations on her wrist, which had progressed from a tap to a gentle stroking, and shot her an apologetic look. Digesting the scene before him, Skinner briefly considered all the ways this newfound information could be useful to him as restitution for the near-permanent headache the X Files division gave him before pushing the idea aside. It was Friday, the sun was shining, he would soon have a Macalllan in his hand and Scully didn’t deserve that. And hell, call him an old romantic, but he hadn’t seen such naked adoration between two people in a while and he thought they’d probably earned it.

“Have a good weekend, agents”, he said gruffly, and stepped to his right, where a space had opened up closer to the bar. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Scully was subtly playing with the ends of Mulder’s tie and they were definitely going to miss their chance to order a drink in the next thirty minutes.

It felt like an apparition, despite the mundane setting. But as real as anything, there she was: Scully in a Seven Eleven. Scully, he could now be embarrassingly certain, in jeans.

His face blushed instantly. He marveled at the heat of it, wondered how all of these chocolate bars, enviably level with the twin globes of Scully’s ass, could maintain their neat rows, how they could resist the molten state in which he now found himself.

All of his off-duty instincts kicked in, primitive and dusty, flooding his mind with pick up lines followed swiftly by the familiar, unholy images of what might happen if they actually worked.

For a rare moment, he wished himself into an alternate universe where she wasn’t his partner at the FBI, where he, a handsome stranger in the Seven Eleven, might catch her interest. He pictured his hot talk working magic, her eyes on his lips, fresh sparks electrifying the crap out of a franchise bodega.

But Mulder kept his distance as he returned to himself and this scene, gave Scully her space as she finished at the counter, tempered his primal urge to hoot and holler like a boastful, horny gibbon.

Thank you so much! I could have gone so many directions with this but I finally had to pick. Hope you enjoy ;) 

——

You clutch hard to the back of Medic’s waistcoat when you feel him begin to pull away. “Not yet.” Stubble faintly rasps across your cheek as you whisper. 

His chuckle reverberates through your chest. “I’ll get back to work then, shall I?”

Before you can answer, his teeth are on your neck again. “Bastard,” you accuse as softly as possible. Can’t have the target getting suspicious. 

Why Miss Pauling decided delegating some of her contracts was a good idea, you’ll never know. To Spy and Sniper, sure, but the rest of you? You’re hardly assassins. 

And oh fuck this would be so much easier if your partner would stop doing that with his tongue on your pulse point yes oh it’d be really really–

Shit, the target’s moving again. Almost in position, and–

So fucking distracting—you reach up and curl your fingers in Medic’s hair, and as soon as he gives an appreciative hum, yank his head back up. 

“Scheisse.” 

“Five seconds,” you hiss. 

“Mm.” Surreptitiously, he slides the pistol from the holster under your coat. 

“And next time, you get watch duty.” 

He chuckles against your hair. 

BANG!

Thump.