No.21 - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Prompt #21- Laced Drink

Yo this one is much better I wasn’t half outta my mind with exhaustion and stress when I wrote this one.  Coldflash again folks.  Have fun

...

“I think someone drugged my drink.”

Len had simply been using the men’s room when a lanky, gorgeous man stumbled in, drunk off his ass.  He could barely hold himself straight up, and his face was relaxed and confused at the same time.  Len had frowned, this was the employee bathroom and what was the point of having a separate bathroom if patrons forced themselves into this one?  He didn’t have to scrub every bodily fluid off the floor every night in this bathroom.

“This is for employees only, kid.”  Len had mumbled, pointing in the direction of the customer bathroom.  “You’re looking for the one near the bar.”

The kid hadn’t responded to him, simply continuing to stare in confusion.  He was so young, he definitely got carded coming in here, and maybe Len should make sure that Sam was properly checking IDs tonight.

“How much you have to drink tonight?”  Len asked.

“One.”  The kid finally answered slowly, his voice heavy and slurred.

“One what?”   Len’s eyes raked the kid over. His fluffy brown hair was spiked up, tips spray painted pink, lavender, and blue, his pupils so dilated he could barely see the green, his runner’s physique on display under the nerdy tank top and short shorts.  He must’ve come from Pride, which was still going strong down the street, and gotten much more than a drink beforehand.  He never minded, so long as they were sober enough to properly pay the tab at the end of the night.

“One.”  The kid repeated, finally meeting Len’s eyes.  He looked like a lost puppy.

He needed to find this kid’s friends and get them to call the kid a taxi or something so he could sleep this off.

“Didn’t want to.”  The kid murmured unprompted, almost sounding hurt through the slur.

Len frowned.  This wasn’t normal behavior for inebriated people, he owned a bar, he knew highs.  This wasn’t any drug Len was familiar with.

“Who did you come here with?”  Len asked.

“Not Tony.”  Was all the kid managed to say until he said the dreaded words that always sent a chill down Len’s spine.  “I think someone drugged my drink.”

It was the first truly coherent sentence the kid had been able to say.  So he knew his attacker, that was a good sign.  That gave Len a name to throw out.

“What’s your name?”  Len said, trying to slowly approach as to not scare the kid.

“Barry.”  The kid said.  “Name’s Barry.”

The bathroom door opened, and a wall of muscle walked in. The kid whimpered.

“Hey, Barry.”  The muscle said.  “We were getting worried about him.  Thanks for finding him.  Our car’s outside, I’ll drive him home.”

Something about his words felt off to Len.

“You must be Tony, then.”  Len said easily, subtly putting himself between the kid and the muscle.  “Barry here was just telling me about you.  College friend?”

“Yeah I’m Tony.”  The wall smiled, as if Len was the stupidest man in the world.  “We were friends in high school, reconnected for Pride.”

And that was the final nail in the coffin.  He knew high school, and how this kid must’ve looked in high school.  No way the Neanderthal would be friends with the obvious nerd behind him.

“So what did he take?”  Len asked, stopping Tony from reaching behind him to get at Barry.  “I mean, he looks a little bad, maybe I should call an ambulance.”

“He’s fine.”  Tony brushed off.  “He just drank a little too much.  I can get him home.”

Tony made a brutal grab for Barry’s arm, but Len caught his hand, twisting it behind the man.  He swept his foot under Tony’s legs and got in a good punch to the face before Tony elbowed him in the gut, winding him.  Tony reached once again for Barry, yanking the kid by his shirt, ripping the HI BI shirt off Barry’s chest, sending the uncoordinated kid to the floor.

In one swift motion, Len drew his gun from his waistband, pointed it at Tony’s head and clicked off the safety.  If Tony had been so callous with a shirt, he didn’t want to think what else he would be callous with after he got what he wanted.

“Whoa, man, I don’t want any trouble.”  Tony immediately pulled his hand back to put both up, his face pale and trembling.

“Shoulda thought of that before you drugged his drink.”  Len snapped.  “I hate people like you.  Get out of my bar, and never return.  And if you drug another drink, I’ll cut your dick off.  Now get out of here.”

“Sure, man, whatever you say.”  Tony said, inching his way towards the door.

“By the way, ‘Tony’’-” Len drawled out, in the voice that Mick liked to call Captain Cold, following Tony with his gun.  “If you ever attempt to contact Barry again, so much as look in his direction, I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

Tony nodded, fear evident on his face and he took off running.

Len put the safety back on his gun, tucking back in it’s concealed holster.  He always was packing in case anyone was either dumb enough to try and rob him, or, more likely, the mob families that wanted to run Central City tried to extort him.  Last time, he had sent the Santini’s packing a little extra lead after they threatened to burn down his store.  It was infuriating enough that the bar he owned legally was threatened, but to imply that Mick would get blamed for it (Mick’s arsonistic tendencies were well-known unfortunately) was something he could not abide.

A low moan turned his attention downward.  Barry was still on the floor, struggling to stand.  He would get his arms in place and two seconds later would slip or collapse under the weight.  Through the ripped shirt he saw an unusual scar, there was a mass of scar tissue in between his collarbone and shoulder, and scars around it that seemed to run like rivers down his body.  What little left of Len’s heart bled for the kid.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”  He said, pulling out his phone.

“No hospitals!”  Barry shouted, slapping a hand wildly around at Len’s phone.  He didn’t come close but it made Len hesitate.  “No hospitals.  Please.  They’ll find out.  They can’t, please, they can’t.”

Aw, shit.  Kid came from a homophobic house.  No way was he going to send someone into that kind of pain willingly.  He knew what happened if a gay kid, whether they were adult or not, came home to those who were not willing to accept them.

“Okay, no hospitals.”  Len soothed, gently brushing down the shaved strands of Barry’s undercut.  Barry leaned into the motion.  “But you can’t stay on the bathroom floor forever.  I got a reputation to uphold.  Let’s get you a cab.”

“Cab?”  Barry’s voice was so young, so scared that it seemed almost inhuman.

That broke what little resolve Len had to the kid’s pretty face.  Len sighed and grabbed Barry under his back and knees, lifting him bridal style into his arms.  He adjusted slightly, he wasn’t as young as he was when he first bought this bar, hit the button to open the door he installed to help with Axel’s prosthetic, then started to walk out the door.  Barry tucked himself into the nape of Len’s neck, like a child in their father’s arms.  Which made sense, Len noted, as the kid seemed half his age.  He made it to the stairs leading up to his apartment when he heard Hartley calling him.

“Hey, boss, we’re almost out of- shit who’s that?”  Hartley asked, coming up to them.

“Kid got roofied.”  Len said simply.  “Can’t go to the hospital, homophobic next of kin will find out he’s obviously bi.  So I’m giving him a space for tonight so he can sleep it off.”

Hartley was his best bartender, had a photographic memory, and a killer taste in mixing new drinks.  And since Hartley was also as gay as a diamond-studded rainbow, who had been kicked out for that same reason, he understood.

“Of course, boss.  When you’re done making sure he won’t die, we’ll need more Fireball.  We’re almost out.”

Len nodded, made a mental note to grab the next case, and headed up the stairs.  He passed Mick watching hockey in the living room.

Mick didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to they’d known each other so long they were practically married, just raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted his beer.

Len repeated the information he’d given Hartley, and Mick, who Len had often gone to running to from his father, didn’t press why Len hadn’t just found his friends and forced one of them to take Barry to a safe place for the night like he would’ve done to any other drunk partier.

“When commercial comes on, get Hart a case of Fireball, we’re almost out.”  Len said.

Mick nodded, set his beer down, and left, leaving Len and Barry alone in their apartment.

So Len simply made his way to the seldom used guest room, almost thankful that Lisa was still away at college.  Not only was his sister’s room available, she wasn’t here to gloat to him about how a pretty face made him soft.  He gently pushed open the door with his hip, then set Barry down on the bed.  He gently removed Barry’s shoes and pulled the covers to his shoulders, as he had done for Lisa so many times.

“There’s a trash can right here in case you feel sick.”  Len said, gesturing to Barry where he was leaving Lisa’s small trash can.  “I’ll check up on you in a few hours.”

Quicker than a flash, a hand grabbed Len’s wrist.  “Stay.  Please.  ‘M scared.”

Now, not only was he glad Lisa was away at college but that he had already sent Mick for the Fireball, because there was no way he was leaving that small voice latching onto the barest inking of hope.  He didn’t know the kid, the kid didn’t know him, but in that moment, they were connected.  Flashbacks peppered his vision, of Lewis, a belt, a Bible, praying on his knees, trying so hard to be straight, unable to keep his own heart in check.  After everything this kid had been through, the scars, the fear, the almost assault, Len couldn’t leave.  Not when that was all he had wanted when he was younger.  It seemed Barry had gotten the savior all of their people wanted, and Len wasn’t going to screw that up.

“I won’t leave you.”  Len whispered the words he wished someone had whispered to him so many years ago and the hand tightened slightly.  Len pulled his wrist loose to replace it with his hand and sat down beside the bed.  From where he was, he could easily keep an eye on Barry while still holding his hand but rested his back against the wall.  It wasn’t the most comfortable position, he knew his knees would ache tomorrow and his back would never forgive him.

“Thank you.”

The last words that passed Barry’s lips before he succumbed to sleep made it all worth it, though.

Day 14, 21, 24, 28- Never Shall We Die

This was inspired by @olldolldraws they did a great piece with a pirate Katsuki that just made me feral. The story didn't end up like the drawing, but Katsuki's appearance is basically completely the same. But Kirishima wouldn't be the mermaid, so Todoroki ended up doing it. I'm not a fantasy writer, so this might not be the best, but I hope you all really enjoy it.

prompts- water inhalation, restraints, goodbye note, sacrifice- pirate Katsuki has to walk the plank to save his crew, and is resigned to his death. but he's saved by someone, something, completely unexpected

AO3 link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/50193352

Katsuki had never been one that saw the point in making prisoners walk the plank. He thought it was entirely unnecessary, too much energy for too little of a reward. It was far easier to simply stab them and throw the body overboard. His efficiency in executions aided in his rise to becoming one of the most feared pirates on all seven seas, so he never saw a need to make anyone, be them soldier or buccaneer.

He never thought he’d be the one walking to his own death off a flimsy piece of wood.

Granted, he may have been a bit overconfident when the Tainted Revenge first fired upon them, but he won every battle he’d ever entered into. It had never been overconfidence, just a factual statement that he’d win, that is… until now. He’d treated this as any other battle he fought, with the fierce determination to win, unwilling to accept defeat, with complete confidence in his crew. He only took on the best, so Katsuki thought it impossible for them to lose.

It seemed that death had finally caught up to him, having evaded it for so long. Pirates’ lives were grand and full of adventure, but very often, they were also rather short.

“Captain, don’t!” Kirishima shouted, so strong the two men holding him were having trouble keeping him under control. A gag was immediately tied around his loyal first mate’s mouth, but Katsuki had already made his choice. Katsuki had already accepted Captain Shigaraki’s bargain, his life for his crews’. It was a choice Katsuki made without even thinking.

“How can I know you’ll spare them?” Katsuki asked instead, talking directly to Captain Shigaraki, trying to ignore his crews’ shouts and struggles. They had always been loyal to him, and he to them, and the scream that had echoed from all of them when he’d accepted had been one of the most awful noises he’d ever heard. But he refused to let them die when he could save them. “It’s not like a dead man can hold you to your word.”

“Captain!” Mina screamed, causing the blonde bitch holding her to put her sword to her throat, giggling like a madwoman. The bloodlust in her eyes just intensified his resolve to save them.

Shigraki smirked, as if amused by his question. Instead of answering him directly, the bastard turned to another member of his crew. “Magne, prepare the lifeboat.”

Shigaraki turned back to him. “There’s an island a few clicks away from here. It’s uninhabited, but there’s enough life for a signal fire. Once they’re on the water, they’re out of my hands.”

Katsuki knew that would be the best deal he’d get. “Put them on first. Then I’ll walk.”

“Uh, uh, ah.” Shigaraki sneered. “If I do that, they’ll just row over and grab you. Would make the deal a bit moot.”

“I’m not dying before they’re freed.” Katsuki said, stepping up to Shigaraki showing no fear. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t do anything if Shigaraki tried, but he refused to show this sadistic bastard what he wanted. If he was going to die, he was going to die with his pride intact.

“Captain, please don’t!” He could hear the tears in Kaminari’s voice. The young boy was the newest member of his trusted crew, just a simple cabin boy, but the best one he’d ever had, if a little constantly distracted.

“Fine.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “I’ll put them on, but I’m not lowering them until I’m sure you’re dead.”

Katsuki took the last long look at his crew. A third man had to join to keep holding Kirishima back, even with the sword at his throat. Mina was crying as the blonde bitch held her too close for Katsuki’s liking, Denki was too, his body trembling in the scarred bastard’s grip. Shinsou was trying to staunch a bleeding wound in Sero’s leg, but they still kept looking up at him in terror. They saw him as unbeatable, and it broke his heart that this was the last time they’d ever see him.

He gave them a smile that was a little too shaky to be as confident as he wanted it to be, and then turned and gave Shigaraki a nod. His crew screamed again as they were thrown roughly into the lifeboat the woman had already prepared. Kirishima tried to rush them but three swords were pointed at his crew in seconds. “Eijirou, stand down!” Katsuki commanded, and Kirishima looked up at him, broken-hearted. “You know your duty. Keep them safe.”

Kirishima just stared at him, the grief so powerful in his eyes, Katsuki had to look away. Shigaraki then pushed him roughly so he stumbled towards the edge of the boat, where the plank lay, as inviting as a siren’s call. “Go on then.”

Katsuki’s heart sped up in fear, but he held firm. He wouldn’t die a coward. He wouldn’t.

The plank was a pathetic piece of wood, and the first step he took made a horrible creaking sound. He hoped he’d be able to walk all the way to the end before it collapsed. If he was going to die, then it was going to be on his terms. Walking on something so narrow with his hands bound was more difficult than he thought it would be, so he took it a little slow, his steps sure and careful. As he walked, he whispered the mantra he’d taught every member of his crew. It was from the first sea shanty he’d learned as a pirate, and the way he’d lived his life on the sea.

“Oh hurry up already, before I get bored!” Shigaraki shouted, startling him a little, causing him to wobble. His steps got a little faster but he tried to keep his cautious approach.

It was the longest walk of his life, but it was only a few short steps until he reached the end. He took a breath, held his head high, and spun on his ankles to face the bastards, but his eyes were only on his crew. Crimson met red, black, yellow, black and purple.

“Never shall we die.”

He jumped.

Panic hit him the second he hit the water. Katsuki had grown up on the ocean, his parents silk merchants who often took him with them as they went from port to port. He’d learned to swim before he’d learned how to spell his own name. But now all those years of expertise were useless, his body jerking out with no traction, his legs directionless as he tried to get back up to the surface. He’d breach the surface for a moment before the ocean’s current would rise again and he couldn’t tread water to keep from being pushed down all over again. Holding his breath was his last resort, trying to take as big of a breath as he could when his head was above the surface but the rolling waves were coming too fast. He could hear voices he knew but the water pushed him down before he could decipher them, and his legs were quickly losing energy to be able to keep himself afloat. His wrists strained on the ropes, trying desperately to get out, but the fiber just dug into his skin, rubbing his wrists raw, the salt of the ocean stinging him as water shoved itself down his throat. Energy drained out of him as he began to sink under the waves, his legs kicking out without strength before going completely limp. He could see the sun shining down on the water, the bright light with its shining rays getting dim as his eyes fluttered. A few bubbles escaped his lips, taking the last bit of air he had, and his last thought was a prayer that his sacrifice was worth it, that his crew, his friends would live on even if he didn't. Darkness claimed him as he sank down into the depths of Davy Jones locker.

Katsuki could feel the touch of fingers on his cheek, gentle as they turned his face a little, and a little pressure on his chest had him coughing up the water in his lungs. Air that wasn’t laden with water passed his lips and he took a breath he didn’t think he’d ever take again. A presence, the fingers owner, was talking to him he thought, but he couldn’t understand the voice at all. But it sounded… it sounded…

Ethereal

Breaking the salt crusting his lids shut, Katsuki’s eyes fluttered to see something his drowned mind couldn’t understand. The sun shone around this stranger like a halo, making the white and red sparkle in the light, but blue as bright as ice and gray like a fierce storm captivated him. He’d never seen such eyes. There was a gentleness in them, though it was guarded with caution. An uncoordinated hand went to reach for the stranger’s face but another hand caught it. The hand was cool, cooler than he’d ever felt a hand be before. His brow furrowed. What… who…

A loud sound caught the stranger’s attention, and his eyes went wide as he saw the stranger shrink back. They weren’t wearing a shirt, and their muscles were on full display, with Katsuki able to see each one of their abs as they went down, down, down until they reached… a tail. Katsuki blinked hard, and still saw the fish tail, the scales enmeshed with their skin. Katsuki’s head swam again, getting dizzy from the sight. The stranger looked down at him again, and with a sadness he didn’t understand, the stranger then crawled away on their hands quickly, and threw themselves back into the water, white and red tail fins high before disappearing under the water. Katsuki stared for another long moment, unable to comprehend what he’d just seen.

It was only then he realized his hands were no longer bound, and another uncoordinated hand came to his wrist, which was still red and raw from the ropes. He could still feel the dried salt on his skin, could feel his waterlogged clothes still glued to him, the water in his ears throwing off his equilibrium, the sand on literally every part of his body, and he just didn’t understand, couldn’t. The stranger was his savior, one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen in his life, but his guardian angel was something he could barely describe. There was a word for what he’d just seen, but his mind just couldn’t connect what he’d seen to that particular word. He had to go after them, had to go after his angel.

Weak arms tried to push upwards, but he barely got his chest up before he crashed back down to the ground. It should not have taken so much energy to move, but his reserves of energy were spent again, and his eyes fluttered shut. The sound of the waves that drowned him rang in his ears, but his mind began to slip back into darkness, unable to keep himself awake. With his eyes closed and sleep infecting his body like a virus, he missed white and red popping back out of the water, staring at him as he lay on the beach.

“Katsuki!”

Katsuki whimpered from the pitch of the scream, his ears sensitive to the noise, wanting to sink back into sleep. In sleep there was no feeling of being like a dried fish, crusted with salt and stiff from the sun. Moving his whole body was too much energy, so he hoped just turning his head to the side would be enough. But then he heard knees crash to the ground, and the sun was blocked from further drying out his form.

“Katsuki, oh god, Katsuki, fuck, how did you- we thought we lost you, oh my god.” Tears were streaming down his first mate’s face, but the watery smile was so powerful that Katsuki had a hard time focusing on his face. Katsuki was then lifted into a strong embrace with corded muscles holding him tight. “I can’t believe you’re alive. I thought… we thought… alive, you’re alive, god, I can’t believe it.” Kirishima pressed a kiss to his hair, the spikes fluffing up as they dried. And then a couple more in his desperation.

“S’itty hair.” Katsuki croaked out, and then he had to turn to his side to cough out a little more water, his lungs aching in his chest.

Kirishima patted his back gently until the fit subsided, letting him gasp until it was just air, and then held him close once again.

“You’re alive.” Kirishima whispered, holding his head gently, Katsuki without the strength to hold himself up. “You’re alive.”

“Al’ve.” Katsuki gasped, attempting for a smile. Kirishima just gave a watery laugh, shaky and overwhelmed, and pressed their foreheads together. Katsuki’s eyes fluttered shut as they took a moment to breathe together. Air had never tasted so sweet.

“You know, when you said never shall we die, I didn’t think you meant literally.” Kirishima breathed a chuckle, still obviously shaken over what happened. Honestly, so was Katsuki.

“N’ther did I.” Katsuki choked out, trying to laugh this all off, but tears poured down his face before he could stop them. Kirishima pulled him into the nape of his neck, holding him together as Katsuki sobbed with what breath he had. Kirishima pulled his body close to his own, cradling Katsuki in his arms, gently massaging at the back of his head, scratching lightly at his hair, whispering soft comforts and encouraging him to just let himself cry. Katsuki hated crying, but these tears were irrepressible, and he broke down in a way he’d never thought he could.

Katsuki had heard stories of drowning, but none of them compared to what actually happened, how someone actually drowned. Drowning was so painful, so terrifying, it was almost enough to keep him from ever going on the ocean again. Katsuki wasn’t sure how long he cried out his fears into his first mate’s embrace, but eventually his sobs subsided into coughing, heavy breaths.

Acting as if nothing had happened, Kirishima stood, standing with such strength he brought Katsuki up with him. This is why Katsuki had chosen him to be first mate, he knew Katsuki best, as well as their crew. “Come on, captain. Let’s get you home with us.”

Katsuki flopped his arm around Kirishima’s shoulders, and Kirishima took his hip, a position they’d been in many times over the years. It was the closest Katuski got to letting people help him, not wanting to show any weakness as the captain of the Howitzer. But this time Katsuki was so spent and felt so shitty that he just let Kirishima drag him, his feet barely pushing him forward as he tried to walk. He knew it was scaring his first mate, but he couldn’t do anything else. He just had nothing left.

He was halfway to unconsciousness when he heard another shout from voices he recognized, this one of joy. A body wrapped around him, and then another, and then he lost track of all the bodies in his personal bubble. Questions were thrown at him too rapidly for him to understand, and they only stopped when Kirishima loudly cleared his throat.

“Guys, back off.” Kirishima said authoritatively. “He’s been through a lot. Give him some space.”

“But how did he survive, Kiri?” Kaminari said, redirecting his question. “He should’ve drowned, how could he have gotten here, and before us?”

“M’rman.” Katsuki panted, leaning too heavily into Kirishima as black spots teased at his vision.

“Did he just say merman?” Kaminari breathed, shock all over his face. “Like merpeople? Like half fish, half hot person merpeople?”

“Denki, back off, now.” Shinsou said, grabbing Katsuki’s other arm to sling over his shoulder. “He needs rest right now, more than we need answers. He probably got sun sickness laying out there as long as he did.”

Kirishima and Shinsou then grabbed Katsuki’s thighs and lifted him into the air a little, his head lolling to the side limply. The fact that Shinsou could take charge in a crisis was one of the reasons he’d chosen Shinsou for his crew, to tend what medical aid he could. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d been trained in several arts by a teacher even Katsuki respected. They carried him over to somewhere much shadier, and then set him down on some soft dirt, propped up against a tree. This was the best he’d felt since the battle.

“Help me get his clothes off.” Shinsou said, already starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Shinsou, don’t, you know how he is when it comes to stuff like that.” Kirishima hesitated, placing a hand on Shinsou's shoulder. Even when half-dead, Katsuki could appreciate his first mate's desire to protect him. Kirishima knew he never liked anyone seeing him undressed. He was unashamed of his body, but he was Captain. He was always supposed to be strong, put together, collected. His crew looked to him for strength, and being undressed and vulnerable wasn't strong.

“Staying in these wet clothes is worse for him, he needs to dry off completely, he’ll get sicker.” Shinsou said, Kirishima not even breaking his focus. “Besides, his shirt is white, it’s not like we can’t see everything anyways.”

Kirishima sighed but nodded. His first mate then got his boots off, pulling a noise from him as he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable his boots were until they were off. Kirishima then cupped his cheek, trying to reassure him. Shinsou removed his scarf, and then his shirt, Katsuki completely limp as his crew maneuvered his body, blinking in and out of consciousness. He didn’t even notice them taking his pants off, but he could feel that they were done when they got to his undergarments and he was grateful to his crew for that anyways. Katsuki never liked being undressed, even around his crew, the concept too vulnerable to let anyone see, so his muddied mind was at least grateful for the gesture. He drifted when he felt hands stop touching him, voices unintelligibly whispering around him.

A soft cloth with cool water then touched his forehead, gently brushing across his face, drawing him weakly back to consciousness. After his closed eyes were done, he opened them to see Mina with a bowl of water. River water it felt like, since there wasn’t any salt residue left over and it was washing that same salt from his face. River water had never felt so good on his skin. He tried for a smile, wanting to thank her but without the strength to speak.

“It’s okay, captain, we’ve got you.” Mina said, kissing his cheek. “We’ll figure out how to get out of here. It’s our turn to protect you. You can rest now.”

That brought out a genuine, if exhausted, smile. Tomorrow, when he was more coherent, had more strength, he’d tell his crew the tale of his guardian angel, of how he was rescued, and what he thought he’d been rescued by. But for now, his eyes just closed, and he drifted to sleep, completely confident that his crew would get them out of this. Instead of the nightmares he was prone to, tonight he dreamt of his angel with those incredible eyes and inexplicable tail.

Whumptober day 21 - Laced Drink

For the twenty-first fill for @whumptober2019, a pre-WinterIron college AU where the Avengers are all friends. Please be careful if the subject bothers you. Also available on Ao3.

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Initially, they hadn't been too sure about Tony Stark.

They knew of him, of course - everyone on campus did. But the things they'd heard weren't generally good, and then there were the pictures...

But then he'd ended up taking one of the same business classes as Phil and Natasha's friend Pepper, and to their collective astonishment, a few weeks later she ended up bringing him to one of their gatherings.

As hesitant as they all were, they tried to keep an open mind - if Pepper liked him, then he couldn’t be too bad, right?

And he wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. In contrast with everything they’d heard about him, he ended up being nice, and funny, and incredibly sweet. It was an effort to make sure he didn’t pay for everything, and every single time he responded as though they were some kind of saints for not making him pay. Even his intelligence, which had been rumored to be a lot thanks to his father’s money, was more than obvious.

All of them were somewhat disturbed with the difference between the rumors and the actual kind of person Tony was. It wasn’t hard to tell that the things that were said about him, both behind his back and to his face, affected Tony negatively.

Whenever people responded negatively to him, there was an almost imperceptible flinch. He acted like he brushed it off, but he was always quieter for the rest of the day, more withdrawn.

That, combined with the fact that he was actually a little younger than them despite working on his second doctorate, left the entire group rather protective of him. And it wasn’t even like they needed to do all that much - Bucky, Natasha and Pepper had glares that would chase even the most persistent idiots away, and the disappointed looks of Steve and Phil were legendary. Besides that, a lot of people were rather hesitant about messing with the combined muscle mass of Bucky, Steve, Thor, Sam and Clint, let alone the murderous vibes Natasha could give off.

No, most people had learned better than to mess with Tony, and it seemed to do him a world of good. His smiles were larger and more genuine, and the vibrant look in his eyes was honestly a reward on its own.

Which was why they weren’t prepared for the party.

Despite having grown closer, none of them had asked about the pictures. They guessed it might have to do with Tony being affectionate with those he cared about, and honestly desperate enough for kindness that he’d go a little further than he should. And perhaps that was part of it in some cases, but certainly not all of them.

They’d honestly been having a great time, dancing as a group and separately. Tony was practically bouncing between all of them, vibrant and smiling, and even Bruce was smiling, despite not usually being too comfortable in crowded places. Every once in a while, one of them would break off to dance with someone else for a bit before drifting back to the others. It was honestly one of the most fun parties any of them had ever been to.

And then Tony started acting weird.

Bucky was the first one to notice the way he seemed less energetic than before. His first thought was honestly that someone might have said something, since that tended to bring Tony down, but he’d been smiling not five minutes ago and had been dancing with Clint and Thor since then.

Natasha was the second to notice, if only because she became aware of Bucky focusing on Tony with a frown. The fact that she stopped dancing with her meant Pepper noticed as well, and now it was the three of them watching Tony.

Next to notice was Thor, which made sense, since it happened when Tony stumbled straight into him. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head a bit as if to wake himself up.

By now, they were all moving closer to him, either having noticed how unsteady he was or having noticed the others watching.

“Tony?” It was Pepper who spoke, Bucky moving right next to Tony in case his swaying led to him nearly falling over again. Looking into his eyes, they were duller than they should be, the usual spark of intelligence replaced with exhausted confusion.

“Pep?” He shook his head again, but his eyes wouldn’t quite focus. He swayed against Bucky, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Wha’s wrong?”

Her face carefully neutral, Natasha moved to stand in front of him. She held up a hand. “Can you give me a high five? First left, then right, please.”

He tried, but his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. Bucky could feel how much Tony was leaning into him by now, to the point where he wasn’t sure if Tony would be able to stay upright on his own.

Bucky shared a look with Natasha, but before they could decide on how to go about dealing with this, two people showed up next to them.

Both of them had brown hair, the man’s a little lighter than the woman’s. She was the one who spoke up, the smile on her face just the slightest bit off. “Is your friend alright? He looks rather tired, doesn’t he?” she asked sympathetically. “If you want, we can take him to one of the rooms to sleep it off - that way, you can go ahead and keep enjoying the party.”

The guy started moving before she was even finished talking, reaching out as if to grab Tony, and the glare Bucky sent him could have cracked a rock straight through the middle. “I’ve got him,” he stated, voice making it more than clear that he wasn’t letting go.

“Just trying to help.” He’d raised his hands upon seeing the glare on Bucky’s face. “Thought he might be more comfortable upstairs - give him some time to sleep off the alcohol, you know?”

Before Bucky could let his fist get acquainted with the guy’s face, Natasha spoke up. Her fake smile was far more realistic, though Bucky knew her well enough to notice the calculating glint in her eyes. “Thank you for your assistance,” she told them, her voice smooth. “And you are?”

The look the two of them shared was almost too quick to see - almost. “Sally and Tom,” the woman lied to their faces. “Are you sure you don’t want us to just take him somewhere? Wouldn’t want this to ruin your evening, after all, since you seemed to be having a great time out there, and it’s no problem for us to take him.”

Pepper cut in then, a smile on her face that was just a little too sharp. “Thank you, but it’s not nearly as much fun when we’re not all together, you see?”

They shared another quick look, before apparently coming to a decision. “Alright, just trying to be nice,” she told them, holding up her hands defensively. “No need to get all upset about it - not our fault your friend drank a little more than he could handle.”

“I just bet it isn’t,” Natasha told them kindly. By now, the others had more than gotten the implication of what was going on and had just about surrounded Tony and Bucky in a protective wall.

Although her eyes narrowed slightly, ‘Sally’ let the comment slide, walking off with a shrug. ‘Tom’ walked after her, though he did look back at them one more time - by then, Thor had maneuvered his impressive bulk in front of where Tony was leaning heavily into Bucky, so the guy turned back around soon enough, whispering furiously with ‘Sally’.

“I’m going to take them down,” Pepper informed them matter-of-factly. “I am going to find out who they are, and I will make their lives a living hell.”

“We,” Natasha corrected, face and voice both so neutral that it was scary.

“For now, we will be taking Tony back somewhere safe,” Bucky interrupted. The fact that Tony’s eyes were still open was the only indication that he wasn’t unconscious, and Bucky was honestly worried about him. “Where we will keep an eye on him to make sure he’s alright.”

Fortunately, all of them agreed. He honestly preferred for all of them to be there to keep Tony safe. And if it had the added benefit of not being overheard while planning someone’s downfall while also allowing Bucky to be there to plan right along with them, well…

No one hurt their friends.

Whumptober: That’s Where The Blood’s Supposed To Be

In hindsight, this really wasn't his best plan.

The enemy was kind of like Rocksteady. They were big, sturdy, incredibly strong, and notoriously hard to take down. So, his plan was simple. It was a long abandoned theater. Tall columns, a lot of open space, and nothing that would be missed too terribly once it was. The plan was even simple, for the first time in a very, very long time. They were going to lead the enemy- Chad, as Michelangelo had named him in a creative stump- Into the center of the open theater, then set off the bombs that were attached to the columns. Said columns would then collapse and bury "Chad" underneath. Even if it didn't completely put him out of commission, it would at least immobilize him for a bit.

Of course, it went wrong. The bombs went off on time, and they did get Chad down. However, somehow he completely managed to miss the fact that once the columns went down, so would the rest of the building. The whole place was falling apart, and still they fought. People would die if they didn't.

He got hit. A rather large piece of debris hit Leonardo's shoulder, followed by a loud, reverberating pop. The dislocation was enough to stun him into stillness for just long enough to get hit. Of course he tried to duck out of the way, to move so that he could avoid injury. By the time it registered, though, it was too late.

Leonardo stumbled back, squeezing between two boulders and gripping the side of his hide. Lightning bolts of pain met him, and when he pulled his hand away, he only saw scarlet.

Scarlet was not good.

Chad was outside, working to tear him out of his hiding place, but Leonardo paid him no attention. He only looked at the red dripping from his face, clouding his vision, and trailing outside.

He placed his hand back on the side of his head, placing pressure where there was pain. Pressure was good. Vibrant red was not.

The banging outside stopped. Instead, there were voices. When did the banging stop? His head was spinning and his hand was slipping. Something in the back of his head screamed wrong. He could usually trust his gut. His mind was right. Maybe he would stay where he was until the sound stopped.

But then there were mahogany eyes and a purple mask. Don’t move, they said. Donatello's mouth was moving. It made no sound.

Please.

Donatello pulled his hand away from his head, and his panic spiked momentarily. He needed the pressure, he didn't want to die-

Now the pressure was back, cold and welcoming against the warmth of the blood on his face. Right, the red was blood. Bleeding meant he was injured.

They were outside. When did they get outside? He remembered crawling into that rock shelter with the building falling apart around him. Now he was in front of a pile of rubble, multiple blurs of green fussing over him.

"It's still bleeding!" He caught a glimpse of their conversation, and strained to hear the rest. "We need to get home or in the Shellraiser soon. Somewhere where I have more medical equipment than this!"

It was that bad? He needed to get up or do something to help, but his body wouldn't move, wouldn't respond to his commands.

Leonardo was next under a bright, near blinding light. He could smell chemicals and copper. Copper? Copper was bad. Somebody gripped his hands, whispering apologies and trying to reassure him.

No, not him. They were trying to reassure themselves.

"Not- Your fault," he whispered with a smile. If they needed reassurance, he would give it.

%%%

"This is my fault," Donatello whispered, staring at bandages that were finally staying white.

"It's still bleeding!" He was right, too. The bandages were running out, but they were still turning red. That wound needed to be closed or else it would never stop bleeding.

Well, he finally closed it. It was carefully stitched up, a neat row of black lines along the side of his head.

"Donnie-" Michelangelo started from where he was sitting.

"No, Mikey, listen. I’m the doctor, I’m supposed to make sure that people don't die. He almost bled out and-"

"No-"

Wait what. Wait, what. How was he even talking?

"My plan," Leonardo murmured, still not opening his eyes, "My fault."

"Leo, please don't-"

"'M so tired… Don't blame yourself, mkay? Shoulda seen it comin'."

"Leo, this wasn't your fault, you don't have to see every future that could possibly happen, please-"

His pleading and rambling fell on deaf ears. Sleep was not a good thing when they didn't know what kind of head injury they were looking at.