#yearofcreation2023

         And now? The jukebox is playing "Hallelujah," John Cale's version. It's just past midnight and the ball dropped on the tv over the bar and people kissed each other and called their friends and Marcus's phone sits like a brick in his pocket, a fossil from when Lisbon would call, from when Dierdre and Sarey would sometimes call. Can't think of a single person he wants to call. He stands arm in arm with his friends who dragged him here, rocking back and forth with them, "hallelujah, hallelujah, Halle-loo-oo-oo-oooh-jah--"          And that's when he sees you, hunched at the bar, the only other person in this dive who isn't paired off, who isn't singing along with a bunch of drunks, your face pinched and closed off in the bleary bar mirror, peeking out around plastered on stickers and flyers for long defunct bands. He can tell that you've been crying.

         You drink and watch your phone light up with messages. Hey you okay? Did you make it home? U ok? What happened? You don't give a fuck. They can wait until tomorrow to find out if you lived or died or caught an Uber back home. Fuck. Home's not even home anymore technically. Staying the night at my Mom's. He'd texted. We'll figure out the logistics tomorrow. He'd texted. Logistics. Three years and it boils down to fucking logistics. Three years in and he dumps you at 11:50 on New Years Eve. So that's how you find yourself alone in this little pub with a bunch of drunks singing along with the jukebox, but at least it's quieter here. You catch your own reflection in the mirror, face peering over half empty liquor bottles with plastic spouts stuck in them, eyes puffy from crying. You laugh. A low and bitter sound. Who dumps somebody on New Years Eve?          "...couldn't've waited twelve more hours," you say, muttering into your half-finished drink, into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Couldn't've sucked it up for one more fucking night!" The last bit comes out loud, and you feel eyes on you, hunker down into yourself, into your glass, like a snail pulling into its shell, and then the noise of the bar resumes.          He'd rested his hands on his shoulders and peered into your face like he did when he meant kiss you or say something sweet. I'm not in love with you anymore, he'd said, the same tone of voice used for things like hey can you take the garbage out, or hey, we need more dish soap the next time you go to the store. Okay, so maybe bitch-slapping him in the middle of the dance floor in front of all your friends wasn't the best move, but it felt good and right. And now he keeps texting you about his stuff. His clothes and his x-box and you and the girls did a round of tequila shots before and you can't quite figure out how this all happened.          Why now? Why tonight? Things were good, weren't they? Or at least not bad, and you watch the ice melt in your drink and feel tricked, bamboozled, and oddly relieved. If he's willing to pull this shit you're better off without him, you think, but deep down you just wish it was all a mistake, that you'd just have someone warm to come home to, even if things weren't great. That maybe the both of you will wake up tomorrow and be like did we really break up last night? That's crazy. But he's texting you about his x-box and his ps 5 and how he really needs it even though you went halfsies on it. Text me one more time and you get nothing. You hit send and turned off your phone. Thank fuck his name's not on the lease. Let him stew. Let them stew. Fuck 'em.          You feel someone settle at the bar beside you.          "Hey, are you okay?"          "What do you think?" It comes out harsh and you regret it instantly. This stranger  in this dive on New Years Eve has nothing at all to do with what's happened. You turn to look and you see a tired man with his lips quirked up in a smile that doesn't quite hit his eyes.          "Sorry," you say, and shake your head, "I'm not--fuck--this has been a hell of a night. I hope you're not looking for a hookup because I got dumped at ten-till and the last thing--" He laughs, a soft low sound.          "A hookup's the last thing I want," he says and holds out his hand, "Come and sit with us. So you're not all by yourself." You eye him skeptically.          "Is this some sort of pity thing?" He laughs a little, a soft exhale, "If it is, we can be pitiful together. He glances over at a table of drunks, "I'm only here because they dragged me. I was going to order a pizza and watch Christmas movies-"          "It's past Christmas."          "I spent Christmas working," he says, "If that's not pitiful I don't know what is." You feel yourself warming to him.          "I bet you don't even have a tree up."          "I do!" He smiles, and this time it does touch his eyes, frames them in lovely crinkles, and maybe it's better to hang out with a handsome stranger in a bar than sit and drink and brood about how tomorrow you're gonna have to clear your boyfriend's shit out of your place. Ex. Ex boyfriend you have to keep reminding yourself. "It's not a real one, and it's only four feet tall. But it's there!" He offers his hand again.          "C'mon," He says, "You don't have to be all alone." Fuck it, you think, down the watery dregs of your whiskey sour and place your hand in his, allow him to draw you from your place at the bar. He is striking, leather jacket across broad shoulders, tight jeans that grip him just right, and eyes so deep and warm a girl could fall right in and drown.          "I'm Marcus," he says, and gives your hand a squeeze, but doesn't let go. You tell him your name and he leads you away from the brightness of the bar, back to where the jukebox plays a distorted love song "the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined see you feel hopeless, and homeless, and lost in the haze of the wine--" back to his table of friends, smiling and laughing, sticky shot glasses and half-filled pints between their hands. Sherri. Danny. Big Bill. Sherri has large blonde hair and gummy blue eyeliner and a cigarette roughed voice.          "You seem nice enough, what're you doing with this sad sack of shit?" She jerks her head and Marcus looks like he wants to evaporate and you laugh.          "I got dumped--let's see--" you power up your phone just long enough to check the time, lock screen lit with a tangle of missed texts --"47 minutes ago? Guess two sad sacks of shit are gonna find each other, huh?"

         The night passes in a warm blur, you and your newfound friends drinking together and laughing, Sherri's got stories that leave the table wheezing laughter and all through it Marcus is a warm presence at your side, your hands keep finding each other's, his gentle grasp an anchor in this storm of a night. You feel like you've speed-run the stages of grief over your ex. Sherri eyes you over shot glasses that have popped up like mushrooms over the course of the evening.          "Listen here," she says, pointing a pink lacquered dagger of a nail in your direction, "Keep the PS5. He paid his half in cash right? Unless you wrote him out a receipt he can't prove shit. His name's not on the lease. Leave whatever you see fit in a cardboard box by the front door and block his number. Wash your hands of him. You don't owe him shit."          "Yeah, fuck him," says Danny, and Big Bill comes back from the bar holding too many drinks and Marcus rests a warm palm on your shoulder.          "Hey," he says, those big dark eyes full of concern, "You don't think he's gonna try anything do you? You're safe, right?" And your first impulse is to laugh, the only thing your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend is a danger to is game controllers and the fifteen year olds who roast him over discord, but Marcus looks so sincere.          "Yeah. He's--I'm not worried."          "Can I give you my number? Just in case something happens--" Danny launches in to the worst mob-movie New York accent you've ever heard in your life.          "You give Markie here your number, see? One woid and your ex'll be sleepin with the fishes. We'll fit him out for the old cee ment loafers, we'll--"          "Jesus, Dan, you sound like the bastard child of Tony Soprano and Rizzo the Rat--" And everyone loses their collective shit.          "If I'm Rizzo the Rat, then you're Miss Piggy--"          "No way am I Miss Piggy! I'm nowhere near that wound up--"          "Bill here is Sweetums."          "If I'm Sweetums, Marc's that grouchy Eagle."          "No way," you say, "He's Kermit. Tell me I'm wrong."          "Hi-ho this is Kermit the frog here with a muppet news flash," and that's it. You are crying into your drink with laughter, and once you can breathe and put words together you tell him--          "You are the last person in the world I would've thought could do Kermit the frog--" And he smiles, a bashful one that pinks his cheeks and turns his face away.          "Marcus has many talents," says Sherri, "Don't let him fool you."

"I can see that you are lonesome just like me And it being late, you'd like some company Well, I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me The guy you're with, he's up and split—the chair next to you is free And I hope that you don't fall in love with me--"

         The lights are up and Tom Waits plays through the bar. People settle their tabs and head out into the bright night. It's snowing, large flakes that catch and hold the light, street-lights haloed in whirling yellow.          "Do you need a ride?" He asks, snow catching in his hair, his hand warm around yours.          "I can walk," you say.          "I'll walk with you,"          "How'll you get home?"          "Taxi. Uber. I'll manage," he smiles, soft and sad, "Let me get you home safe, okay?"          "Okay." Marcus offers his arm like some old time movie character and you loop your arm through his. Snow falls, slow and soft and heavy, and the bars let out all around, spilling people into the streets, closing time everywhere, and people sound happy, buoyed on the promise of a better year, at least for a few days until the shine wears off and it's back to business as usual. Sooner than you want you're at your front step.          "This is me," you say, and wish it wasn't, wish for more time in the swirling snow with him, and his hand traces down your arm, his fingers find yours and lace through.          "Are you okay?" he asks.          "No. But I will be." You surge forward and hug him, wrap your arms around his broad back and snow-dotted jacket, and he grips you in kind, cradles the back of your head in his hand, tucks your face into the warm join of his neck and shoulder, "Thanks for looking out for me." He squeezes you tighter.          "It's my pleasure," he says drawing back to look at you, his hands on your shoulders, "And if your ex--"          "He won't," you say, "He couldn't even wait till midnight. Couldn't even give me a kiss. I mean, not that I'd want him to now--" Marcus reaches for you, brushes the pad of his thumb over your cheek, the question hanging in his eyes. You nod and he presses his lips to yours, waits for you to kiss back, and then his tongue slides soft between your parted lips, tender, undemanding, your face cradled in his warm, calloused hands.          "Come upstairs with me," you say, and you feel him draw back, bright line of hurt in your chest.          "I want to," he says, "I want to take you to bed if you'd have me--"          "Then why--"          "I don't want to push you," he says, "I move fast. I scare people off sometimes. I like you a lot. I don't want to hurt you, okay?"          "Okay." That line of hurt resolves itself into a dull ache, "I should get some sleep. Gotta dump Asshole's stuff on the curb bright and early." He leans in kisses your cheek.          "See you next year."          "See you."

         At some point in the deepest ditch of night you turn your phone back on. Peer bleary-eyed at the notifications, unanswered texts. You send a group text to the girls, home safe don't worry about me. You give your ex a time to come get his shit and then block his number. You drift in the dark, and your phone vibrates against your chest.

Your condition wasn’t improving, even with the heavy dose of antibiotics you were taking daily, and after day two the team had lost contact with William and the others. Each day you waited there were more and more gunshots by the security forces, taking down cannibals -it had finally been confirmed after a team had scouted out one of the villages that these people were actually killing and eating other humans- and in the worst case it was one of those monsters. Even now your eyelids felt heavy and your limbs felt sore, like you were trying to move with weights holding you down, and the medics were perplexed by the sudden turn your health had taken.

Crying was pretty normal for you now, between your worry for Pero and the fear that you weren’t going to make it through this, and thankfully nobody seemed to think less of you for the depression you’d fallen into over the last week. It felt weird, you’d been… fine with the thought of dying before this when it was just you and Pero; that had been the most likely outcome, especially when you first got sick. But now? Now you were scared of going to sleep and just not waking up, it made you jolt awake nearly every hour after trying to sleep with a scream dying in your throat before you could even make a sound.

Gunshots ripped you out of your half-dazed state this time, louder and closer than they’d ever been, and the tent flap opened as a cannibal covered in blood walked through with a jagged knife in his hand that had to have come from one of the soldiers. His eyes landed on you and there wasn’t even a chance in hell at your defending yourself, your arm felt like lead and even rolling your head to look at him made you hurt. The chilling smile on his face had tears forming in your eyes, blurring your vision and making your lashes stick together, the gunfire was still going but you couldn’t even work up the power to make a sound for help.

Pain flooded every synapse in your body when that blade was stabbed down, right through the joint of your elbow, and that was when you screamed. Especially when, upon wrenching the blade free, the jagged edge of the back ripped through worse due to its serration. You flailed, the pain and adrenaline strengthening you enough to roll away from this and stumble off the bed, your feet barely supporting you as you tried to find a weapon or something. The IV lines were ripped out of your skin, the drip lines starting to spill fluid in your frantic need to escape, and you barely managed to stay upright when your vision blurred.

The cannibal laughed, a chilling sound with all the screaming and gunfire going on around you, and you hurled an instrument tray at him as a distraction before running out of the tent on stumbling feet. Bodies blocked your path as you searched for a place to hide, to find safety and shelter, and you nearly shrieked when your foot gave out and you began to tumble down a low incline. The pain of landing on river stones almost made you scream, instead you dragged yourself under the dirt overhang and laid there as all the fight escaped you at the touch of the freezing liquid, and you tried to keep quiet when you heard the footsteps above you.

For whatever reason they didn’t look for you, didn’t look under the edge of the dirt, and eventually the gunfire died down leaving nothing but silence from where you’d found yourself. Cold and shivering, pain in your arm and body, and unable to even work up the strength to move; left there in the few millimeters of water and on that cold stone waiting for death.

Maybe it was a day, maybe it wasn’t even half that, but eventually someone screaming your name broke through the dark that had lured you in like a siren song; you couldn’t move at all, couldn’t talk past the shivering, and you blinked away the blurriness as William’s face filled your vision. He picked you up, and this time you did wail as the pain in your arm turned fire hot, but he didn’t stop moving at all. William was moving fast and running hard, each step jostling you painfully and making you whimper, but you couldn’t even find the strength to fight against the discomfort.

Large, hot, hands cupped your face and Pero looked terrified; you couldn’t hear what he was saying and when you blinked again you were sure some stretch of time had passed because you were held down with something and definitely not in the woods. You didn’t realize it was inside a helicopter -and you wouldn’t know that until much later- but hours of time were lost to falling unconscious, up until you were finally admitted to the nearest hospital.

Keegan’s recovery was going smoothly, the haunted look in his eyes was still there and likely would be for a long time, but Pero had been relieved to find the other man alive. Your best friend was marked with scars from his own ordeal, meeting another survivor Eric who had been looking for his son, and Eric had been transferred to a local prison as his son was being turned over for observation by William and Lin’s unit after what he’d confessed to have done to the first rescue plane. Pero sat beside Keegan, both men silent as they waited, and after a long moment Keegan finally broke that tense emptiness.

“Have they told you anything yet?”

“No, not yet, I’ve only just agreed to go back. Haven’t been able to find out how she’s been.” He had wanted to get out, to run from this world of things that shouldn’t be real, but that forest proved there was more in the world that he didn’t know existed and that running from it once had cursed him forever.

“Doctors said she’s been woken up from her medical coma, now that they’ve finally gotten all traces of the infection out, she’s been asking about you.” Pero had been inconsolable for the past week, torn between angry pacing outside your hospital room and crying in his own, terrified that he’d failed you and that you weren’t going to make it through. Keegan had been forced to make a choice for you, as the military had not wanted to bring your family into what happened until they had a proper cover story and knew if you were going to comply to a request of discretion or not, but that choice had saved your life.

A nurse stepped out of the room and looked at both men, the look on her face was tense, but she did nod and gesture to the door; Keegan looked surprised when Pero stayed seated but then grateful before he walked into the room. Even through the closed door Pero heard your shriek of surprise and joy, heard the soft sobs as you no doubt cried that your friend had survived, and he was truly glad to have that peace of mind for you. It was less than an hour before Keegan came out, looking just as red-eyed and exhausted as Pero felt, but the cathartic crying from knowing you’d both survived had clearly helped lighten the man’s emotional load.

Pero clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug, and Keegan’s returning hug was just as tight as the other man broke down into soft tears again.

“Thank you, Pero, for keeping her safe. Thank you for protecting my best friend.”

“I would do it all over again, every time.”

Pero faced the door, chest tight, before walking in after Keegan departed; you were sitting up in bed, looking significantly better than when you’d first been brought here, and he watched the way your eyes widened before you were reaching for him. He ignored the guilt that slammed through him at the sight of the bandages on your left elbow covering the healing injury, the limb nearly unable to be saved if not for Keegan, and he captured your face in his hands to press his forehead to yours while you gripped the loose fabric of his henley and sobbed at the sight of him.

“You’re okay, I thought- I thought you and William and the others didn’t make it when they lost contact-“

“No, bonita, no. We found an underground lab, where they were studying those things and our radio was destroyed. I am glad that you held on long enough for us to get you here, to get you help.” He felt his own eyes water with relief, he was not proud of how he’d reacted when he returned to the camp to find it in shambles and only William managing to track you down and find you had been enough to quell his howling rage and desire to kill every single cannibal left in those woods.

“They- there’s nerve damage. Permanent nerve damage, so the doctors suggested a compression sleeve and a medicinal card for pain management, I can’t- there’s a lot I won’t be able to do now. I have no idea how I’m going to afford my bills if I can’t work, if I even have a job still.” Pero glanced at your arm again, it was in a splint to ensure that you kept it in a position that would allow it to heal, and he knew that the next part of the conversation was going to be the hardest. He sat back on the side of the bed, taking your good hand in his and just allowing himself to be relieved that you were okay.

“Your- all your medical expenses will be paid for entirely, bonita, that is something I can promise you. But the rest is a bit more complex of a situation.”

“They want to buy my silence, don’t they? They’ll pay for all my expenses if I sign that litany of NDAs you talked about before.”

“Sí, that just about sums it up. If you don’t they will paint you as a madwoman and ruin you, just like they did to Ballard when he refused to stay silent out the tao tei.” He knew you’d recognize the name, Ballard had gone public with his experience and been painted as a raving lunatic since there was no evidence anywhere to support his claims. Shamed, embarrassed, and mocked to the point that he’d taken his own life to avoid the public fallout of trying to put the government on the spot. The story of the man’s suicide had been plastered all over tabloids and conspiracy theory articles everywhere.

“I’m joining the task force again, to work with William and Lin, I tried to run from whatever magic or mutant nonsense is happening in the world once already and it clearly wasn’t done with me. I just- even if you refuse to sign those forms I will handle all your expenses myself.” Your good hand squeezed his, eyes shooting wide in alarm, and you looked away as your eyes grew misty. He hated knowing that he was making you cry, already you’d be going through extensive therapy just to try and bounce back from the mental damage this event caused, now he was compounding that emotionally.

“Keegan is too, he’s leaving to start his training tomorrow now that I’ve come out of my coma, they’ve been stalling so that he could say goodbye while he got cleared medically and… and emotionally.” There was still a lot of trauma for everyone that had made it out, and it would certainly linger, but Pero honestly wasn’t at all surprised to learn that Keegan couldn’t go back to a normal life after this. He had struggled for years to try and remind himself that not only was he alive but that it was all over, he’d barely just begun feeling like maybe he could move on at last before this happened.

“If I could go back and stop it all from happening I would-“

“I wouldn’t.”

He stopped the second you interrupted him, his eyes studying the determined and firm expression that you wore.

“I wouldn’t stop it, Pero. What I- what we had to endure was awful, but I’d rather know the truth than live in ignorance, and we have each other now. Even if nothing becomes of the interest we have for one another-“

“Bonita, I have every intention of pursuing you romantically, I will always be your friend but I would like to be more than that too if you’ll allow me the chance. You are far braver than you think of yourself, more resilient than anyone else in your situation would have been, I would love to get to know you better outside of all of that.” He watched the way your determined expression shifted to something softer, fond, the way your eyes began to water a little.

“I can’t wait.”

Sometimes you forgot that you’d been on an IV at the hospital, had access to instant painkillers that made it bearable, because the bad pain days had become a challenge.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this for me, it’s hard.” Pero didn’t answer your morose statement, the pain in your arm had been debilitating today to the point that you couldn’t even do anything but lay on the bed crying, and you watched him fold your laundry as you waited for your edible to kick in and offer you some form of relief. Your good arm reached out and Pero caught your hand, leaning down to press a kiss to your fingertips and nuzzle his cheek into your palm.

“It is not hard, Bonita, and I do this because I love you. I understand that there will be bad days mixed in with the good, I am not some… selfish boy unable to do extra chores when my girlfriend is suffering.”

“But you already split housework with me and take over whenever I’m having a bad mental day too-“

“Sí, because I love you. You have done the same for me, and during the times I am away you do everything on your own, don’t think I don’t notice that I have yet to come home to the house being left messy. I know that when I am away you push yourself through the pain to work and clean, Bonita, so please let me do this for you.” His expression was gentle and adoring, those dark eyes of his shining with affection so deep that you felt like you were drowning in his love; tears began to swim in your eyes and Pero shoved the pile of clothes back into the hamper with his other hand before climbing into the bed and pulling you so that you were half draped over his chest and his other hand could hold the back of your head.

“I’m sorry you have to clean up after me all the time-“

“I do not and you know this, we’ll have to ensure you have a small stash of edibles by the bed for days that you cannot get up at all from how bad your pain is, that’s all. You’re only this distressed over it because this is the second day in a row that you’ve woken up with this pain level, I will call the doctor and get see what they recommend.”

But with those bad days came good ones, when you woke up feeling okay and being able to do whatever you needed to get done, and on those days you struggled with keeping your tasks minimal because you knew that it would be far too easy to push yourself just a bit too much.

“I can do it!” Your voice was chipper and light as you took the bag from Keegan and blew a raspberry at his offended call of your name, scampering up the steps into his apartment before he could try and take the craft goods back and hand them off to Jackie or Leah who were already overburdened with bags. You began organizing what had already been brought up, you couldn’t exactly join this year’s ‘crochet seven days away’ project so instead you were hanging out as moral support, in the past you had ended up doing more with fetching snacks and drinks or making sure nobody ran out of material anyway so it wasn’t like it’d be too different.

The project for this year was a massive blanket and with three people working on nonstop you were wondering just how much progress would be made, the challenge was to make as big of whatever it was you’d picked as possible, and you weren’t missing this year just because of what happened. You’d packed your clothes and some edibles to tide you over, all three of your compression sleeves, and Pero knew where you were at and promised to stop by if you needed him for anything.

“So, uh, not to be grim but- have you considered what the doctor’s suggested?” Keegan glanced sharply at Jackie while Leah winced where she was pulling out and sorting the material by color.

“Yes and no, I have good days too and it’s not like amputating the damaged part of my arm is going to fix everything. Yes the nerve pain will be gone for the most part but I’d have the waiting period and physical therapy for any prosthetic to consider too. Plus… I’d be agreeing to get my arm taken off.” You glanced at your colorful sleeve cover, Keegan and the girls had made long glove style arm warmers that you could use to hide your compression sleeve, this one was the first of the bunch and made with a sunset gradient of colors and snap closures.

“You know I’m not pressuring you right? I just want you to feel comfortable in your own skin, girl. I’m glad you’re doing okay and that you’re going to therapy, that you are taking care of yourself and that Pero is taking care of you, and this is your choice. We’ll all support you no matter what you pick.” Jackie’s smile was warm and you nodded since you knew she hadn’t meant it badly, she’d been through this scenario before with a cousin that had lost a portion of his leg and foot to diabetes when he refused to get himself any type of help, that all she wanted to do was offer you a space to vent about how you felt with your choices.

You couldn’t tell them the whole truth of what happened, and neither could Keegan, but your friends didn’t need to know the whole truth to understand your conflict.

Some days you felt the most normal, the pain tolerable enough that you didn’t need to self-medicate but wanting to stay home and relax, these days were among Pero’s favorite since it always involved movies or TV shows watched together or even just reading something aloud while he laid with his head in your lap.

“Alright, you win. There are fan writers out there who can provide a more compelling story than some of the fiction novels that I have read.” Pero had challenged your love of fanfiction, after catching you reading an update on your phone when you thought he was asleep -you’d lost a boyfriend over a particularly smut-filled fanfic he’d found by going through your browser history (a high key "what the fuck")- so fessing up to Pero had been really nerve-wracking. But instead of meeting you with mocking behavior he’d been curious, asking why you enjoyed it and what your favorites were.

“I am a man who watches porn, Bonita, treating you reading sex scenes in writing as worse is stupid.” Pero’s comment back then had earned him a smile and a kiss that left your toes curling when he took control of it, the fact that he was just so good about your reading proved that you had truly found a great man.

“Should I leave a review about how much you loved Stranger at my Gate? How you identified so well with the main character?” He hummed and nodded, dictating the review that you tapped out on your phone, and you read it back to him before submitting it. Pero looked up at you for a moment as you navigated out of the fic to the main pairing page, setting your phone aside to look down at him, and he turned his head to press a kiss to the inside of your left elbow where your scars shimmered in the low lighting of the living room. You smiled and leaned down to kiss him, making Pero lean up into it, and he shifted to turn around so he could drape himself on you.

Laying down like a content cat with his full weight pressing you into the sofa, his head resting so his ear was right over your heart. It was moments like this, when the light was low and it was calm, that you both just took the time to breathe and remember that you were alive and okay now.

There were also days you spent together that were a much different flavor of being together.

He was devouring you, his broad shoulders wedging your legs open, one of his hands was gripping at your hip while the other held yours; his mouth opened wider and your back arched off the bed, the grip you had on his hair tightening as his tongue swirled to collect more of your wetness. Pero called himself a messy eater and he was no different when it was his mouth between your legs, smearing his face with saliva and slick as he dropped his chin to circle your entrance and the curve of his nose nudged your swollen clit.

“P-pero-!” You had lost count how many times he had made you come already, you had woken up wet and needy from a dream that slipped away like a phantom, and your beloved boyfriend had been happy to rise to the task of sating you. Hips hips rutted against the mattress, delaying his own release to make you sink into the mattress from love drunk exhaustion, and you tugged at his hair as your body ached to feel him.

Those dark eyes swam with delight and he came willingly, dragging his skin along yours, his messy mouth slotting to your own as you felt the heft of him drag along your slit before he sheathed himself with a slow thrust; it was easy with how wet you were, his saliva and your wet release making him sigh with pleasure into your very lungs as you breathed him in.

In the beginning he’d been gentler, unwilling to add to the pain that you already experienced, but time together -years together now- helped him heal with you and his rough thrust jolted your body as you grabbed at his back and curled your legs around his hips and thighs. Pero let out a throaty sound against the side of your neck when he dragged his mouth along your skin, the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours joining the symphony of heavy breaths and soft moans, and as he shifted his knees just a touch to angle your hips your sighs became soft mewls.

“Come for me, Bonita, soak me.” Pero braced himself on one arm so he could grab your chin, angle your head to mouth at the soft spot right below your ear, and even if you wanted to deny yourself he’d made you soft and sensitive and pliant; the clutch of you mingling with your own gasp of his name and Pero’s hips stuttered as he filled you with him. Your breaths were hot and your sweat slicked bodies were close, and you just clung to him as Pero rolled onto his side and just held you.

Days apart were always harder but the reunions made them worth it.

Jamil handed you a stack of files and you set them down at your desk, a stable job had been your only demand for signing the litany of NDAs upon getting out of the hospital, and the government had employed you to work in the same line of covert operations that Pero did just from the safety of a desk. Pero and his team had been gone for a week now, not the shortest amount of time but nowhere near the longest, and you were doing okay for now. There had been a bad pain day just yesterday, making work difficult but you’d fought through it to avoid the mocking stares of the others, and you could practically feel the weight of those looks on your compression sleeve.

It was no secret what happened to you, the former department leader had all but dressed you down in front of everyone when you’d called out due to a bad pain day, basically telling everyone that you weren’t allowed to act like some princess and skip work by faking any pain. He hadn’t lasted long after that, you hadn’t intended to get him fired but the man made one mistake by calling Lin -who was his boss- to tell her that he wanted you gone. Pero had made quite the show of walking into the room behind his friends, the day after, decked out in his tactical gear and the man had been not only fired but also subjected to lawsuits out the ass for violating HR policies by talking about your experience and disability to others without your consent.

Now the entire office was terrified of you, hated you and excluded you from everything with the fear that they would be next, except for Jamil. You were far from blind to the fact that his kindness stemmed from a desire to be left alone, him being okay with you made everyone else leave him be, but you were okay with that because he made it a little more tolerable during the workday. His favorite thing was to tell you god awful puns and dad jokes, one an hour, just to make you laugh.

You went home to an empty house and went through the motions of showering, not bothering to pick up your work clothes off the floor today after getting changed, and dropped down onto the bed. Bad pain days always left you feeling out of sorts, reaching out to the bedside table and grabbing one of the edibles from the little organizer case that Pero put together for you, and you drifted off to sleep as the pain dulled and your mind drifted through the haze of semi-consciousness into the arms of Morpheus.

What disrupted your sleep was the weight of the blankets covering you, the bed shifting under someone’s weight, and your half-open gaze spotted Pero’s form slide into bed before he pulled you into his body as he whispered words of love into the crown of your head. But his spicy body wash and the warmth of him fresh out of the shower lulled you back into a deeper rest now that he was here, now that he was home.

It was a hard life being on this side of the truth, nightmares you would never escape plaguing your sleep sometimes, but you were okay and you would continue to be okay. Together.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii

You had to look around, both in awe and feeling nostalgic, as you stared up at Uva Academy for the first time in a long time. Director Clavell waved and you couldn’t help but smile at the man as you made your way over. It had been decades since you’d been a student here, since you’d first set out on your journey to be a Pokémon Master, and it felt fitting that this was where you’d retire too.

“Ah, the youngest Paldean Champion returns home. How has it been, traveling the world and taking on the other gym challenges?” Standing beside him now, remembering when this man was so much taller than you, it was a wonder he was still in charge; but you supposed that there was a difference in how hard a career was when comparing a desk position to camping out under the stars all the time.

“I won’t lie and say it’s been a cake walk, because it hasn’t been, but it has been rewarding. I’ve met so many incredible people, worked alongside the strongest Pokémon partners, and learned so much about the history of the world as a whole and not just one region in particular.” There wasn’t a moment of regret for leaving the house at ten and never looking back, for graduating Uva and taking off into the vast world, and your mother had been a teary eyed mess in the airport when you’d first gotten back.

“I managed to keep your return a secret from the press, Iono in particular was quite eager to get her turn battling you and try to impress her viewers, but soon enough the reporters will be everywhere.” The reminder made you cringe a little, it had only gotten really bad after your win in Galar against Mustard since the region made the Pokémon League into a massive spectator sport, but after that you’d arrived to newer regions with camera crews waiting for you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected it, being so young stacking Championship after Championship, but it had been a circus to navigate.

“Now you understand why I refused to stay in the cities and just chose to camp out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Quite, I can’t begin to imagine the crowd that would be waiting for you as soon as you exited your hotel room for the night. I’ve taken that into consideration and many of the Professors talk about it when students show interest in the League here in Paldea.”

“That’s good, they should be armed with the warning, I know I was wholly unprepared to arrive in Kanto and get bombarded with press right off the ferry.” You laughed because you’d been twelve and reckless and had a Corviknight able to fly you out of that situation immediately, leaving the press behind in a whirlwind of salty air and sand with the take-off, and it was a clip that made an appearance in most interviews.

“Your soon-to-be challenger is excited to get her chance at facing you, once she finishes her Treasure Hunt and lessons of course, Chairwoman Geeta has claimed to see a lot of potential in her.” You nodded and followed Director Clavell down the walkway into town, spotting Uva students everywhere talking about the goal of their Treasure Hunt, it was refreshing to see kids pursuing Pokémon breeding and researching jobs; some discussing Paldean historical myths and others gallantly discussing pursuing becoming nurses and officers.

But each child was passionate about it, even the ones that seemed unsure, and that was the biggest relief of all to you; you had seen a lot in your travels, including kids forced to pursue roles they weren’t so sure on taking as their own future, it was nice to come home where kids were encouraged to pursue their own futures for the most part.

“I encourage you to come by as often as you’d like, the students would likely enjoy guest appearances by the Champion -and maybe former Champion by this season’s League closure- if you’d be willing.”

“I’ll consider it, Director. The goal is retirement, after all, and I plan to spend some time kicking back and relaxing for at least the first few years. I’m going to switch my team out and get my things into my apartment first though, see you.” You went to the Pokémon Center on the west side of the city, the outdoor centers were a massive change from the buildings in the other regions -you actually preferred those since they offered free beds for travelers- but as you booted up the PC you had to ignore the sudden sound of surprise from a few of the kids nearby.

You made quick work of grabbing your original team, Professor Rowan had been more than willing to allow them to live in his vast fields of land to study the regional forms and how they differed, you’d reached out to him to have them transferred back to your PC and they were right there waiting for you. After trading your party out, sending Professor Rowan a message that he could take the last six and move them to his property, you glanced at the kids streaming you on their Rotom Phones and resisted the urge to sigh. While you’d certainly expected the public eye to always be watching you would have hoped, by now, that your comments about privacy when traveling would have made someone understand your need for anonymity.

Waving to them, to be polite, you called out Wheels -your Cyclizar- and greeted him happily before you were off to get away from prying eyes. You had opted not to tell the Director that your apartment wasn’t here in Mesagoza, just in case he accidentally mentioned something to the soon to arrive swarm of reporters, heading toward Cortondo instead. The little town had been your first League Victory, the new Gym Leader Katy was still a younger kid when you’d beaten the former Cortondo Gym Leader Dominique, so it was strange seeing a Gym Leader younger than you were even if it made sense.

The little town was just as cozy as ever, smelling like fresh bread and olives, but your eyes landed on a face you hadn’t seen in years.

Javi looked as good as he always had, his bouncy curls no longer wild and unruly from constantly grabbing at them or running his hand through them, and his smile brightened the moment he saw you too. Wheels’ gallop became a skidding stop through the dirt and the dragon Pokémon let you get off his back before he closed the gap to shower Javi in affection, it was sweet to watch, and once Wheels was finished you called him back and found yourself being caged into a tight hold.

“Welcome home, I hate to say the video calls just are not the same.” Javi’s voice was warbly and you knew he was going to start tearing up, your arms immediately wrapped around him as you nodded against him and buried your face into the fabric of his shirt. You used to describe his scent as sunshine, as something warm and fresh and comforting, and it certainly still was but now that was an underlying muskiness to it that just reminded you how you’d both grown up from being kids.

“They are not, that’s for sure, I’m so happy to be back. You said you got my place handled?” Javi nodded against your shoulder and you hated that you didn’t want to let him go, you had truly missed him for more than just him being your best friend, but since he hadn’t told you about recent romantic partners you didn’t know if there would be someone who might get jealous of you clinging to him. When you loosened your hold Javi did the same and he rubbed at his wet eyes, smiling still so you knew they were happy tears at least, and his soft laugh made you hand him your handkerchief.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you’re home. Come, let me show you.” Instead of entering one of the few small apartment buildings in Cortondo you ended up following Javi to a flying taxi and letting him take you to Cascarrafa, with the two of you talking about the suite he’d gotten you instead since it offered a much higher level of privacy and security. It was a nice place and you knew he’d definitely added on to your meager furniture purchases when you walked in and saw the art prints on the walls, the statues, and the stocked kitchen.

“I know I told you that I’d be fine settling anywhere, but why Cascarrafa?”

“Easy answer, I’m selfish and live here too, I wanted you close.”

Javi’s confession was not without something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat and your face feel warm, you found yourself nodding and looking away from his face at the intensity in his expression.

“Is… is there anyone who might be jealous? That I’m going to be so close to you?” As you’d gotten older and met new people you had your fair share of partners, and you knew Javi had too, but all of them had tried to convince you to give up your ambitions and wanderlust to stay and you’d walked away from all of them. At the time you hadn’t put much thought into the why, you had wanted to travel and see the world instead of become chained down to a place, but now you knew that your heart had been waiting for you to come home.

“No, there isn’t, because nobody I found myself caring for came close to making me as happy as you do. None of them encouraged my adventures, my dreams, or let me be who I am without trying to change me; this whole time I told myself that I could find someone but I always knew I was waiting for you.” His confession made your face warm more, you felt like you might float away, and when Javi tipped your chin up so gently you went willingly.

It was a soft kiss, a chaste one, and like something out of a story book with how your chest exploded with Cutieflies. Javi’s big brown eyes were warm and affectionate as you parted, just resting your foreheads together to giggle in sheer delight, and then he was slotting his mouth to yours as one of your hands buried itself in his curls and the two of you stumbled blindly toward your new bed.

Javi had invited you to spend the day with him at the olive farm and you couldn’t help but grin as you two walked together, racing ahead of you were both of your first Pokémon -a pair of Eevee, his was a rare coloration and yours was not- just enjoying the sunshine of Paldea. Arizona -his Eevee- and Poe -your Eevee- came from the same Pokémon breeder from different pairs and had evidently been believed to be a bonded pair, when Javi’s father had purchased Arizona he’d planned to give Poe to Javi’s cousin Lucas until the other young man refused the offer and demanded something else. Javi had given Poe to you instead with his parent’s approval, since you’d gone to the same schools and been friends since your toddler ages.

Seeing the two of them together again truly made it feel like home.

“So, not to bring up something unpleasant, but why haven’t I seen Lucas around?” Javi’s cousin was not a kind man, he could fake it sometimes and he could be polite but Lucas was never kind with any sincerity. You had never gotten along with him, he would constantly belittle you for being from a ‘poor’ family and try to claim you weren’t going to amount to anything.

“Lucas has been handling other affairs for the family, I do not know when he’ll return.” The answer didn’t tell you much but there had always been something… off about Javi’s family. You hadn’t ever been able to explain it, honestly, but Javi was kind and genuine so you’d never thought twice about things like that growing up. Now, however, that you’d seen more of the world and grown up a lot -and potentially would get involved if this thing between you and Javi continued to blossom- you knew it was time to ask these questions.

“Oh? Is it- is he okay?” The way his tone had gotten tighter, something between nerves and annoyance, had you worried.

“Yes, yes he’s okay it’s just… complicated.” Your brows rose and you knew, that he knew, you wanted an explanation. Javi all but tugged you off the path and away from prying ears and eyes, a few whistles from the employees tending the trees might have made you roll your eyes if it was actually for intimate reasons that he wanted you out of sight. Javi glanced around when the pair of you stopped finally, the open area empty of anyone that might overhear what you were saying.

“Have you heard that recently there have been reports of thieves in Paldea, members of Team Rocket have begun making an appearance?” You hadn’t actually heard that, shaking your head gently and frowning, you had gone against Giovanni and won -he should definitely be in prison with the other leaders of the various organizations that you’d defeated throughout the years- so you were under the belief that Team Rocket had been dissolved. Javi sighed and began pacing, looking so upset that you captured his hand in both of yours, making him look at you.

“Tell me what’s going on, Javi.” His eyes met yours and you couldn’t shake that he looked afraid, he looked sad and afraid and it wasn’t ever an expression you wanted to see on him.

“My family has been slowly building back Team Rocket here in Paldea, Lucas is stealing and illegally selling Pokémon, I only learned this when father decided I was old enough to know the truth in my mid twenties, but because I am friends with you he decided Lucas would handle that side of the business while I ran the Olive Groves as the face of the family. I’ve tried many times to tell someone, anyone, the truth but Lucas’ influence runs deeper into the officers than I thought. He- he tried to steal Arizona from me and threatened to have you killed if I didn’t comply.”

Your blood ran cold through your veins before it ignited into a fury of heat, anger at being used to force Javi to comply to what he clearly didn’t want to do and knowing that he was put into this impossible situation to begin with, and Javi looked like a kicked Yamper as he waited for your reply.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, I’m going to have to figure out how much of the League and the Academy is corrupted, but Javi I promise you that I’m going to get you out of this mess. I will not allow the man I love to be held prisoner by his own family, nor will I allow them to use my life as a means of control.” His relief was clear as day and Javi kissed you so chastely, so softly, with gratitude that you made a vow that you’d set him free for good.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii