aubergines | ( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

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[ The look she returns is definitely a puzzled one, too. This is pretty much a horror flick in the making, and Kasumi's halfway to expecting something's just going to pop out at them from a corner or out of nowhere. She stops in her tracks and turns to Peter. ]

I think I should scout ahead. There's no way this entire level and wing are just completely empty--I'm not even sure what we'd be up against at this point, but it would be good to know before any crossfire happens.

[ He doesn't like that idea at all, and it's telling in the way he frowns. ]

I don't think it's a good idea for us to split up...

[ -- and the way he trails off is also telling: as much as he doesn't like the idea, it's also a logical one. ]

[ She gives him a reassuring pat on the arm. She knows it's a risky move, but there's something in her that's saying you have to go. ]

I'll just be going down the hall a little further, and you can still reach me on our comms. It'll be fine. Besides, you're freaking Star-Lord, and you can kick some serious ass.

[ By the end of her sentence, she's already going dark. ]

[ He sees that her image is already doing that weird ripply thing, which means she's about to go full ninja on him, and he makes a grab for her arm first. ] Wait, Goto, we need to--

[ -- too late, though, and his hand wraps around a fistful of air. He sighs. Like, a really epic one, one filled with the regret of a billion life choices.

(Not really. Mostly he's annoyed, and if there was a rock to kick, he'd be abusing it right now.)

It's a weird little quirk of Peter's equipment that his comm system is built into his helmet -- which means he has to actually trigger his mask on before he can open up a line. He does so immediately, though, because the idea of sitting silently in some ostensibly abandoned lab by himself is-- well, okay, it's not scary. Peter definitely isn't frightened (and how dare anyone imply as much!!!), but there's an uneasiness that's inching up his spine.

He has the weirdest feeling he's being watched, despite the lack of cameras in this hall. ]

Fuck radio silence. [ He's saying it into his comm, on the channel he and Kasumi had set up for this mission. His voice is quiet, though, and he leans against a wall, guns holstered once more and arms crossed. ] Don't keep me in the dark, okay?

[ If he'd have more presence of mind, Erik would wonder if the receptionist could count the white gleam of his teeth like bullets in a gun. His words had never been his greatest weapon, but he had long since learned how to twist and turn and prod, until each syllable cleaved away at a person like any good blade might.

Instead, Erik had focused on the sound of every footfall, on the tinning sense of metal ringing back to him like the delicate echolocation bats used to guide them in the middling dark of dusk. It is only time, and the reassurance that his mutation could cover them both, that keeps Erik from running full tilt into the depths of those camps, incandescent with rage.

He has learned a lot on the virtue of looking before you leap.

The room is of decent size around them, certainly enough for two men to sit and plot and set a rescue plan into motion. As it is, Erik nods an acknowledgement to Charles, settling his own travel bag down besides his friend's. The look he levels upon Charles' back is expectant, the burbling shadow of his mind teeming with thoughts and plans.

But he waits, not necessarily patient. ]

How long should we wait before starting.

Roger that, Star-Lord.

[ She's moving quickly through the hall, peering into every panel of clear glass that she passes by and finding absolutely nothing. So far, nothing still, though she notices some signs of disarray. ]

There's a few offices down along this hall. Still empty, but some lights on and some screens are still active, so at least it looks like someone's been around.

[ The next thing she notices, however, are sounds that don't quite bode well for the situation. She'd much rather be hearing idle conversation, like two Cerberus lackeys talking about the Illusive Man's freaky eyes or something, but instead she hears something that starts out as indistinguishable groaning, which is way less fun and way more creepy.

The fact that what little lighting there was in the area just blacked out in favor of low, red lights and now sirens are going off is just all too well-timed. Then, an automated voice rings through the halls: Attention all personnel: a breach has been reported in the west wing. I repeat: a breach has been reported in the west wing.

Understandably so, Kasumi's first conclusion is that they must have found her and Peter. ]

I swear to god, Quill, I didn't touch anything--

[ But then the announcement continues on, Personnel present during the beach are unable to contain the situation. Use all necessary force to subdue and eliminate all hostile subjects upon contact. ]

Edited (woops typo) 2014-11-10 05:10 (UTC)

Shit.

[ The alarms make him jump -- which isn't particularly difficult, given the fact that he's wound up tighter than a spring. Then the recorded voice is going off, and he thinks, SHit, they found us. He's about to start demanding Goto's location, asking if she's okay, and then she responds before he can. He sighs in relief. ]

Wasn't me, either. Look, just hurry back--

[ ... And then the recording continues (and Peter hates recorded emergency messages, hates how goddamn calm they always sound), and something cold and heavy drops in his gut. Peter has a moment to think, The hell do they mean by "unable to contain"? before he hears the brief rapport of gunfire, ending with an all too human, all too wet scream from behind one of the doors. And then he hears the scraping of dragging footsteps, hears low, almost metallic moans coming from behind not just one door, but all of them.

One of the doors collapses under the combined weight of grey, ashen, too-thin bodies, skin covered in wiring and tubes and glinting metal, and Peter has just enough time to pull his blasters from his holsters and back up to the entrance. Another door collapses, then another, then another, and Peter is quickly realizing there's a hoard of motherfucking Reaper zombies standing between him and his partner; that he's got his back to a door he can't open, because Kasumi has the transmitter; and that he's so. Fucking. Screwed. ]

Goto. I've got a problem.

[ It's all he can manage to get out before a pair of unnatural blue eyes finally spots him, and a grating scream cuts through the directionless moaning. The creature leaps at him just as all the others turn to face him, and Peter thinks, I'm so fucked, before he begins firing. ]

[ Thus far he has appreciated her acquiescence more than he thinks she might be aware of - this is part in due to his own reticence to show such things, part due to the social rank that divides them (not itself as high that which would have divided herself and either of his two other friends, or God forbid, d'Artagnan, but even so), and part due to the sheer unfamiliarity the pair of them had with one another. They had, of course, seen each other before, a meeting of eyes here and there and little more. (Eyes meet when the King or the Cardinal have either one or both just said something... Well, anything of the sort that might make one want to quietly glance around the rest of the room to see if others shared your own, very quiet, opinions of what had just been uttered in your collective presence. Athos had found himself quietly meeting her eyes for a few moments here and there more and more often as time went on.

He was curious to know the woman behind the Queen, but not so much that he would risk awkwardness or impropriety on either of their parts. A noble upbringing wasn't the only reason he clung so fervently to the chivalric ideals of honour and the like - they just happened to be what kept him upright and moving forward at this point. He used them as a crutch to lever himself out of bed and into his duty, as he buckled on his uniform one piece at a time.

Although, alas, he'd had to hide most of that as well. He felt out of place. But he, at least, was somewhat more familiar with this sort of thing - thus far he had been quite impressed with the manner in which the young Queen had been taking this all in stride. I also just realised I said a lot of this in the last tag so oops. Sry.

When he comes to help her down (as any new husband with a young wife so fair would do), she forgets herself for just a moment but catches it very quickly, and as she corrects it he hears the affection and remembers that he, too, should likely be displaying that sort of thing. What would have been a very small smile - more a turn at the corner of his mouth than anything, is allowed to widen considerably. It is still nothing so broad or beaming as to show teeth, but it is acting and appreciation for her quick wit and his own approval of both all in one. Athos likes to be as efficient as possible. She has her hands on his shoulders and he puts his by her hips and lifts and slides her out of the seat and carefully places her on the ground as necessary, just removing a hand from her hip long enough to grip the reins on the horse. They're very close, closer than they should be in any other situation, and his mind is drawing a very hard line between what is happening right now in this playacting and when he and his wife stopping at an inn for the night was nothing of the sort.

But they're supposed to be these roles this evening, so he gives her a quick squeeze in lieu of a hug, and nods his head to the saddlebag on the other side of her horse. ] If you can just get these off of Marié [ her horse ] then I'll see to mine and have the stableboy come over. It won't take long. [ And with that - since even as their roles are, his request is merely a polite way of command, more or less - he moves over to his own horse to so as he said. Hopefully it will take her slightly longer, as once he's finished, he has to walk around to the open door over there to get the young lad's attention and bring him over.

And in the interest of getting them like. Into the inn at some point i'm making the elective decision to say that happened and the boy now has the horses and Athos gave him a little silver piece to take good care of them and then slung his own saddlebags over one shoulder before reaching out to grab one of hers, and beckoned her to follow him to the room. you can do the room /flaily hands don't want to godmod errthang ]

[ fitz's struggle to finish his sentences is actually more painful for ward than his frostiness. but he does understand what it is he wants, or thinks he does: he's planning on using that device to communicate with his team. ward isn't sure he should let him. ]

I've got some lock picks, keys, a screwdriver...

[ he pulls them from around his person, like some kind of evil boyscout. ]

Burner phone if you need the components. Or we could open up one of the wall panels.

Hold on, Quill, I'm coming--

[ Still cloaked, she immediately starts back in the direction of the entrance where Peter is. The sound of another door collapsing behind her, though, makes her take a quick glance back only to find a sizable squad of Cerberus troops coming through--no Atlas, at least (it wouldn't have been a problem to dismantle, but with everything else going on right now? It surely would have been a hassle).

She's silent on her end for a moment, leaping and climbing over hoards of Husks to make her way back to Peter, when she gives him the news. ]

I know you're busy, and don't panic, but there's a small-ish group of Cerberus guys heading over. Must be the latecomers to the birthday party. Two big guys, some guys with shields, a sniper--hold on, there's some cloaked chick coming too--how dare she?

[ When she hears the familiar whizzing of electricity through the air, she knows she's getting close to him and--whoa, yup, definitely getting close, seeing as she just had to dodge his own blasts. It's then that she decloaks to start plowing through the Husks, grabbing each one by the head and letting loose a dose of Overload before pulling out her pistol and dispensing them with a well-placed shot to the head. ]

[ At the nudge, Bucky spreads his legs to make more room for Steve like he belongs there, fitted there between his legs. It’s not even sexual, though it could be as easily as the next breath that he draws into his lungs. It’s just this, the way they fit together, like two pieces of something that was never really meant to be apart. The serum changed that fit once, Hydra did it again years later, but instead of being destroyed, it’s like they’ve grown into it. Like maybe this is what they were meant to be all along.

It’s a little more philosophical than Bucky’s given toward being even on the best of days. But that’s Steve for him. He’s just got this way about him. Turns tougher, stronger men into overgrown saps. It’s been happening all of Bucky’s life, though he’s always tried so hard to pretend that it hasn’t.

He licks his lips when Steve pulls back from kiss, chasing the taste of him, like he’s so greedy for it that he can’t let even a hint of it escape. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth again, wickedly amused, and it reflects in his eyes as they peer up at Steve through the tangle of his hair. ]

Is that right? [ He bends a knee, drawing it up near Steve’s hip like he’s building a trap to keep him there. ] What about you, huh?

[ Sometimes, like now, he wishes that he had more hands. The need to touch Steve is nearly overwhelming and two just isn’t enough. Especially when one isn’t normal. He settles for traces Steve’s cheekbone with his fingertips, outlining his jaw and lightly running a finger along his brow while the other hand hovers near his hip, wanting to touch and yet struggling to make the contact. ]

What about your strength? [ Leaning up, he brushes Steve’s lips with his own. Then sinks his teeth into that enticing bottom one. ] Who said I’m letting you out of bed?

[ Peter’s so goddamned relieved to have backup that he nearly misses the Husk sneaking up on his right side; he just barely has time to whip around and slam the butt of his blaster into its head, firing a bolt of electricity square in its chest. It twitches and writhes before falling motionless to the ground.

The news that they’re not alone, though, is less than comforting. ]

We should bail. Let them deal with-- Shit--

[ A Husk leaps at him, and he has to sidestep out of the way—which, naturally, puts him into the arms of another waiting Husk, who grabs him, pinning his arms to his sides. On instinct he drops to the ground, slipping out of the creature’s hold, and he spins around on a knee to shoot a blast of fire into its chest; he gets back to his feet just in time to shoot at another Husk making a grab for him, kicking it away. ]

-- Still putting in my vote for bailing.

[This is a blushing contest, clearly, because the heat in her face doubles.]

Th-Thank you. [Whatever word he uses, it's still a compliment, and one from him, and Chloe's not well-adjusted to either.

She smooths the skirt of her dress down (unnecessary, but she suddenly feels the need to do something with her hands, and it gives her an excuse to look away) as she focuses on the less awkward part of the conversation.]

Oh -- I, um -- I told him we have family visiting tonight. Your family, obviously. [Which should be a safe lie. For Senel's benefit, she adds,] Family is typically the only acceptable excuse for turning down such an offer, particularly from someone in a position of authority. I assumed that if they press you for details, you could talk about Shirley. I didn't name any of your relatives in particular.

[She left him some freedom, basically. She figures it beats giving him a script to memorize.]

One day, you'll run out of pet names.

[ is said almost idly, with an air of resigned amusement that should make it seem like an old argument, like the kind of thing she protests but doesn't really mind. ]

Yeah, let's-- [ the following get out of here that she says is promptly drowned out by the crackling sounds of a chain overload from her omni-tool, current jumping from husk to husk and sending them writhing to their deaths on the floor before a distinctive cry of Hey! Who're those two!? from one of the Cerberus troops catches her attention. ]

--might I also suggest a flashbang grenade?

[ Right after she says that, she waves her omni-tool another time as a surprisingly convincing holographic projection of Kasumi appears in the midst of the Husk party, moving almost as though its actually interacting (read: beating the crap out of) the nearby targets. The real Kasumi cloaks in the meantime, only to reappear to strike at a Husk sneaking up beside Peter. ]

Hey.

Not on your life, cupcake. [ All the same, he flashes her an encouraging wink; he’s glad she’s getting into it, at least, and he slips his hand into hers, fingers interlocking.

They reach the boarding ramp of the aliens’ ship, guarded by two tall, bulky, and presumably male officers. They’re still roughly human in appearance, though their facial features are far more angular and sharp, with large, black eyes the and narrow, pointed noses.

(Looks like you’re dealin’ with Bilosians, Peter had helpfully identified, when they had been desperate enough to call on the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy; it wasn’t too long after the queen had landed and made her intentions to blow up the planet known. They’re, like, these militant hippie dudes? Which, I know, makes about as much sense as Papa Smurf with a machine gun and a survival knife, but there you go. They’re all about twoo wuv and music and the arts and shit, but they also really, really hate what a lot of species do to their planets, so they blow ‘em up. Start from scratch. They’re usually nice about sending a warning, though.

When asked how soon they could be planetside to help, Peter had muted the audio on the Guardians’ end, though he neglected to cut the video feed as well, so what followed was an animated but silent conversation between the team members. There was a lot of shaking of heads and accusatory pointing and a whole lot of hand waving. And presumably, if one could read lips, Peter may have said, “Guys, you’re making us look really bad in front of Captain America.” And while it may have been harder to read the lips of a talking raccoon, one could make out Rocket clasping his hands together and possibly saying, “Ooooh, the Captaaaaaaiiiin.” No lip reading was necessary to see that Peter most definitely flicked him on the forehead, though.

Eventually they agreed to arrive within forty-eight hours, and all of the Guardians had presumed they would be shooting things. None of them, Peter least of all, expected to get roped into a con job.)

As it is, the guards cast the couple wary glances, and Peter puts on his biggest, most charming, most rakish smile. ]

Hey there. Mr. and Mrs. Star-Lord, here to see the queen.

[ … Perhaps it was too soon to say he was taking this seriously, after all. ]

Edited 2014-11-11 00:00 (UTC)

[ Peter’s not sure what makes him jump more -- the casual way Kasumi uncloaks beside him, or the gurgling moan of the Husk very nearly right in his ear -- but if she ever points it out, he’d totally deny it until the day he died. (“I did not jump. I was not startled. I was totally aware of my surroundings at all times, yep.”)

And in any case, now that Kasumi’s here, he digs in his pocket for one of Rocket’s patented flashbangs. ]

Prepping a light show. Be a doll and get the door, would you?

He nods, thinking it over and doing some quick math. "That's a fifteen hour window." While that was, objectively, a small window of opportunity, especially since most people would be in their hotel for the majority of time between nine PM and noon the day of check out, Tony wasn't exactly most people. There's every chance that Tony was out drinking or partying or well, doing anything, really.

A lot can happen in fifteen hours.

But not enough that they can't piece together what happened.

Only because you asked so nicely. [ She moves on out, slipping between two approaching Husks and then taking each by the head and smashing them together before zapping them for good measure. Her decoy, meanwhile, fizzles now and then, but luckily Husks aren't the most intelligent beings to roam the galaxy, and many of them are content trying to attack it.

With the facility going into lockdown the transmitter they used to get in doesn't quite respond as favorably as before, but at least it gives Kasumi enough to work with in accessing the security program, and she makes quick work of hacking in and overriding the lockdown procedure. The lights are still red and sirens are still sounding off, but the elevator's doors open and that's all they need. ]

Got it, Quill!

[ She steps into the threshold and fires up her omni-tool, ready to unleash another chain of electricity to provide cover for Peter when he would eventually have to make his way back. ]

[ That's all the prompting he needs before he activates the flashbang and chucks it into the fray. He hasn't faced this many Husks before, doesn't know what effect it might have on them, but they'll at least distract the Cerberus guards long enough to make good their escape.

The thing about Rocket's devices is that they tend to be a little over the top, tend to do their jobs a little too well. So when the flashbang detonates, there's a brilliant burst of light and a god damn strobe effect, accompanied by a high-pitched wail from the device, even louder than the sirens, somehow.

For good measure, though, he fires at the closest Husks before turning to the elevator and making a run for it. ]

[ Brock does not, in any way, want to encourage self-reflection. If he starts prodding Jack along that path, he’s going to have to follow suit, and life’s taught him in its most heavy-handed manner that his destination rarely matches up with that of anyone else. If he starts poking around in the depths of his shriveled, shrunken heart, he’s going to find undeniable proof of what he already knows and just blithely pretends to ignore.

He cares about Jack a lot. Not the prince of Gilboa and the trappings of power that come with the title. Not the promise of some inheritance should he ever come back into possession of it. Just Jack. Just the spoiled, petty, pissy, contrary, bratty, arrogant, selfish little shit that makes up Jack Benjamin.

Because he sees what’s under all that armor. He’s sees the hurt Silas and Rose have caused, the wounds that don’t heal and the scars that haven’t faded. And sometimes, when he least expects it, he catches glimpses so fleeting of who Jack might have been that he thinks that he might be imagining them. It’s those might-have-been moments that make who he is now all the more poignant and, at times, painful. It’s wearing on him, undermining all of the callousness and distance and cool disinterest Brock’s held toward the world at large. Worse than that, it’s making him love him.

And it’s getting harder and harder to live with Jack every day and pretend that he doesn’t. This mission is both a relief and a challenge, pretending that he loves the man he pretends he doesn’t love by letting himself love him openly and pretending that it’s fake. Even for a double-agent, it’s getting a little complicated.

Explosion or deflection: those are the two options from which he suspects Jack’s reaction to his words will come. Vitriol and anger or blasé mockery. It’s like rolling the dice, gambling for no prize at all, yet Brock can’t help watching Jack look at him, and then their hands, with bated breath. Waiting with a curious sense of anticipation.

Deflection, he thinks, as he hears the sigh and the words that follow. He’s about to roll his eyes, deliver some equally sarcastic retort to strip the residual weight from the declaration that he’s made, when Jack takes him by surprise with that kiss. And does it again a second later, when the kiss turns out not to be a quick, fiery affair that scrambles his mind with lust, but the kind of slow burn that makes his chest ache in ways he’s still not accustomed to.

Perhaps it’s too soft, too tender, to cradle the back of Jack’s head in his palm, but the kiss lends itself to the gesture and Brock doesn’t hesitate and overthink it. He just moves with the moment, sliding an arm around Jack’s waist and shifting closer as he surrenders himself to his mouth. There’s no fight in him, no need to direct the speed or the intensity of what they’re doing. Brock gives it over to Jack without even a hint of protest. There are other things he means to communicate than his strength, and he tries now, using lips and tongue to say without words all of the things he won’t allow himself to think, much less voice.

When the need to breathe forces him to pull back to steal a hurried sip of air, what he does voice is as flippant as what Jack had. ]

You think this is dramatic? [ Another quick intake of breath and he leans forward again, brushing his lips against Jack’s in a way that’s clearly, undeniably a caress. The effect’s only slightly ruined near the end, when Brock’s lips twist into a grin. ] Wait until you hear my vows.

[ Kasumi's sure to look away, but even then she can tell just how bright and obnoxious the flashes are, so her reaction is a mix between oooh, aaah and good god. Definitely more potent than Kasumi's own flashbangs, which is totally fine given that they're shaking off two types of enemies at once. When her eyes begin adjusting again and the sound dies out, she leans out of the elevator a bit, waiting for Peter. ]

Come on!

[ Her omni-tool is already crackling. And her decoy? Totally exploding now, knocking back the already-blinded and discombobulated Cerberus lackeys. Unfortunately for them, there always seems to be a lot of sparks flying around whenever these two are involved. ]

[ Say what you will about these two -- at the very least, they don't do anything halfway.

Unfortunately, that's butting right up against the fact that Peter is, at best, unlucky as fuck. So while he's distracted in getting his ass out of the fight, he doesn't see the Husk coming in from his left, leaping and wrapping its limbs around him bringing him to the ground. Its teeth clamp down on his shoulder before he's able to shuck it off, blasting it with a bolt of lightning from his gun. He leaps to his feet again and jumps into the elevator beside Kasumi ]

Get us the fuck out of here.

[ There's a moment of silent panic on her part when her "On your left!" comes too little too late, and he gets tackled to the ground. But he's made it, which is one hell of a relief, and with that Kasumi unleashes the chain overload. It jumps from Husk to Husk to Cerberus guy to whatever's next. She ducks back into the elevator just in time as the doors start to close, and she takes care of one last, very resilient Husk whose arm is about to block the door from closing all the way by shooting it in the face.

The doors close, finally, and so begins the most excruciating elevator ride ever. The silence that follows makes Kasumi realize how her heart is beating quickly, how "adrenaline rush" doesn't even begin to describe this, and how hard she's breathing, but it only takes her a moment until she turns to Peter, Medi-Gel ready. ]

That looks like one hell of a bite, Quill. Let me take care of it for you.

Edited 2014-11-11 12:00 (UTC)

[ These elevators seriously suck, but at least they have time to catch their breaths, now. At some point he had holstered his guns in favor of applying pressure to the injury in his shoulder, but once Kasumi turns to him, he moves his hand aside. The bite is angry and red and bleeding with definite teeth marks there, but at least the Husk didn't end up taking a chunk out of him. ]

Christ, that asshole probably had rabies or something. Fuck husks.

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Page 18 of 27

( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

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me either tbh

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HAHAHA I AM SO SORRY man omg wow also man i hope this tag is okay

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shit this got long i'm sorry :c

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