how about heaven telling Cas he will have to stay with Kelly and raise the child together and when Dean finds out, well you can guess he will no take the news really great??
when did you start taking orders again?” Dean asked. He was
sitting, planted at a table, half turned in his chair, elbow propped
up on the back of it.
shook his head. There was a lump in his throat, but he couldn’t seem to
swallow it. “It’s not an order, Dean, it’s a request. If I do
it, the slate’ll be wiped clean. I’ll be right with heaven again.
I won’t have to run. It’s a good thing.”
sounds real good.”
does that mean?”
means, you get the little hellspawn on your hip, and then what? What
do you even know about raising a baby?”
learn,” he said without conviction.
learn… how to raise the devil’s baby… all by yourself.”
raise, protect. And I’ll only be by myself if Kelly doesn’t
make it through the birth.”
“You’re still coming to the party tonight, right?”
Emma rolls her eyes, stabbing at her phone to put it on speaker and tossing it onto her passenger seat. “I’m just leaving the liquor store. Yes, I’ll be there,” she assures Ruby, carefully placing the bag of booze on the passenger side floor with a pleasant clinking of bottles.
“Is Elsa coming with you?”
Emma wrinkles her nose, clicking her seat belt into place and shoving the keys into the ignition. “She’s doing something with Liam.”
“Killian’s brother Liam? When did that happen?”
“Like a week ago? Killian forgot his jacket, and his brother was with him when he stopped by the apartment. Elsa was doing yoga in the living room. Apparently they go to the same studio, but he goes on Tuesday and she goes on Wednesday, and they just started going on and on while Killian and I stood there staring at them like the insane people they are. They decided to go together on Monday, and I sort of haven’t seen much of her since.”
“Huh.” Ruby’s surprise is evident in her response, but then she adds, “Wait, Killian forgot his jacket? How does someone forget their jacket when it’s negative ten?”
Emma groans, because she knows this tone of voice, and she knows exactly how Ruby is going to react. “I might have been wearing it, and I fell asleep.”
Request: Listen. I’m legit bawling. I’m crying. My heart has been broken and scarred. You did that! I need a part 4 please or I might just die, M. Your writing is gonna kill me someday, you queen of angst, you. AND other sweet comments! THIS IS A PART OF THE To Newt, With Love series
Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in
Newt stares at the brick house in front of him, taking a deep breath before dipping his head and walking toward it. The leather case in his hand bounces against his right leg with every quick step he takes. He times his steps, falling into the same familiar rhythm as the creak of the neighbor’s porch swing.
Climbing up the three hole-ridden steps, Newt curses under his breath. He pauses at the top and sighs. It’s now or never.
The door slams open halfway through his third knock. He nearly smacks his mother in the face as he stumbles forward, but she just ducks under his hand and wraps her arms around his stomach.
“Erm, hi mum.”
“You finally remembered I’m alive!”
Newt rolls his eyes over his mother’s head. “I never forgot it. That would be hard with all the owls you kept sending.”
She steps away from him, leading him into the house. “How could I not send them? You never replied. I didn’t know if you were getting any of them.”
Newt pulls the door shut behind him as he steps inside. “I’ve been busy.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Scamander waves her hands, walking down the hall to the kitchen, “Your animals mean more than your own dear mother.”
“That’s not true.” He follows her, eyes trailing over the pictures of him and Theseus at various ages, hanging in rotting frames on the cream walls.
“Well, you aren’t very good at showing that, are you? Come in here, I just finished baking some biscuits.”
Chuckling at a picture of him and Theseus grinning ear to ear in front of the ocean, stacks of shells balanced on their sopping curls, Newt heads into the kitchen. It hasn’t changed much since he was young. The same dog and cat salt and pepper shakers sit above the stove. The same row of flower vases with the same nine vases are lined up on the far counter, like soldiers ready to march at any moment. The same wooden frames hold up the same moving pictures.
Well, almost all the same pictures. Newt tries not to see the different faces in three of the frames, changed courtesy of Theseus.
“How have you been, honey?” Mrs. Scamander sets a cup of tea and a plate of two bite-sized biscuits down in front of Newt.
“I’ve almost died five times since I last saw you.” He fights a smile at his mother’s frown as he bites into a biscuit.
She falls into the chair across from him. “Do you want to kill your mother? Merlin’s beard, Newt, didn’t I raise you better?”
Notes: just a little cheer up quickie for @hornsonmysoul, because ily, be nice to yourself (loosely based off what I remember of the episode ‘99 problems’ with the whore of babylon, I know this doesn’t really work with the timeline of it but anyway)
“What’s with the angel passed out on the bed?”
Dean pulled his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair, eyeing Cas spread out on one bed on top of the comforter, trench coat and shoes still on.
“He showed up drunk.”
On the small couch, hunched over an old book, Sam didn’t even bother to look up at Dean.
“What, seriously? He can even get drunk?”
Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair and finally sat back, looking at Dean. “He said he drank a whole liquor store. I think he might have meant that literally.”
Dean pulled a dingy glass down from a kitchenette cupboard and filled it with tap water. “Man, what is up with him.”
“He called me stupid when I asked if he was ok.”
“I mean, it’s kind of obvious he’s not.”
Setting the water down on the table, Dean moved to root through a duffel bag at the end of the couch, pulling out a bottle of aspirin.
“Taking a minute to get his head on.”
Passing the couch, Dean patted Sam on the arm and his brother leaned into it before settling back quietly over his book. Picking up the water, Dean took the aspirin over to the bed and sat down hard, bouncing the mattress.
Cas was dead to the world.
“Maybe you should let him sleep,” Sam said.
“Maybe you should mind your business.”
The bitch face he got for that was reassuring. Things’d be fine between them. Always were.
She dreams she’s in Mulder’s apartment and they’re young again and her hair is long, longer than it ever was in the 90’s. There’s cardboard boxes labeled in her neat, looping cursive, and he collapses on the couch next to her and puts his feet up on one. Can I ask you something? he says, tapping her hip gently. He’s staring at his shoes instead of her.
Sure, she says. The fact that he won’t meet her eyes is a little worrying. She sits beside him on the couch, Mulder’s old leather couch she hasn’t seen in years, she thinks. What’s up?
He chews his lower lip. Were you, um. Ever going to move back? In the other place, I mean. He scuffs his shoe along the edge of the box.
Oh, Mulder, she says, wanting to kiss him. She touches his shoulder. I was, yes. I just… wanted to work up to it. I felt like we had issues to work out, and I wanted to take small steps. But yes, I was going to move back in, eventually. I loved you.
He smiles, still not looking at her. You loved me?
Loved you. Love you. She grins, too, laying her head on his shoulder. I never stopped loving you. Not then. Not since 1993.
1993. Oh, really, he says, smug and teasing.
Hmm, she says, pretending to consider. Maybe a little longer. 1997, at least.
Everything would be different if you hadn’t been there. Maybe you would be normal. Instead, you’re dangerous, a threat to be contained. You don’t want to be powerful. You don’t want to be special. You don’t want to be an Avenger. But there’s something about the way Steve looks at you–warm and soft and trusting–that makes you feel like you’re still yourself.