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<|text|> <|example|> occurred Sherlock before, but he would be more than amenable to some sort of copulatory arrangement between them. He wouldn’t even be averse to the occasional placebo-cycle heat, so long as they haven’t a case on. His relations with Victor may have been largely unexciting, but this unexpected venture with John has been incredibly stimulating thus far. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> amount of pleading over the course of his heat with John. None of which ended at all unpleasantly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> want for nothing. So in either case, you needn’t be concerned, financially speaking.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Sherlock squirms prettily against his hands, and his cock stirs to life beneath his nightshirt. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> passes over! Even his parents don't come visit anymore. His brother does; but well... Sherlock doesn’t appreciate that very much so...” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> made his excuses and fled, claiming a touch of flu, before the actual situation could become any more obvious. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> between them, with a contented sigh into Sherlock’s mouth. He reaches down between their bodies to guide himself into place, rubbing his cock over the wet slit a few times, before finally pushing forward to sink in with a deep groan. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “I couldn’t’ve wished for a better first word, honey,” John quietened him. “The two people I love most in all of this world and they share a name for me.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> A left, a left, a right, a leap through a gaping hole in a fence. Sherlock hasn’t tested the limits of his newly-gained stamina, and the bite on his side is burning. <|indexes|> 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> a girl, tightly rolled into a ball under one of the shock blankets. Her ginger hair blurred into the orange fabric and she looked distinctively pale under her freckles. Even while asleep, she had her brows knitted in worry. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> on Vauxhall Bridge, the dark waters of the Thames gurgling beneath him. His whole body was aching, the icy air burning on his flushed face. He must’ve been running for at least half an hour to get here. Frantically, Sherlock padded himself down and let out a sigh of relief as he felt something in his coat pocket. He pulled out his phone and wallet. As if it had only waited for this clue, a nerve-wracking sequence of artificial sounds resounded throughout the dim glow of the lampposts and the phone’s screen lit up with one calamitous syllable: JOHN. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> least strongly suspected that Mycroft still kept tabs on him. That a loss of signal under such circumstances would rather sooner than later gain his attention was comprehensible but, still, annoying. And poorly timed. Mycroft’s presence would complicate matters even further. He had to get rid of his brother, now. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> occurred Sherlock before, but he would be more than amenable to some sort of copulatory arrangement between them. He wouldn’t even be averse to the occasional placebo-cycle heat, so long as they haven’t a case on. His relations with Victor may have been largely unexciting, but this unexpected venture with John has been incredibly stimulating thus far. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “I couldn’t’ve wished for a better first word, honey,” John quietened him. “The two people I love most in all of this world and they share a name for me.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> A left, a left, a right, a leap through a gaping hole in a fence. Sherlock hasn’t tested the limits of his newly-gained stamina, and the bite on his side is burning. <|indexes|> 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> Sherlock squirms prettily against his hands, and his cock stirs to life beneath his nightshirt. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> passes over! Even his parents don't come visit anymore. His brother does; but well... Sherlock doesn’t appreciate that very much so...” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> made his excuses and fled, claiming a touch of flu, before the actual situation could become any more obvious. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> between them, with a contented sigh into Sherlock’s mouth. He reaches down between their bodies to guide himself into place, rubbing his cock over the wet slit a few times, before finally pushing forward to sink in with a deep groan. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “I couldn’t’ve wished for a better first word, honey,” John quietened him. “The two people I love most in all of this world and they share a name for me.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> A left, a left, a right, a leap through a gaping hole in a fence. Sherlock hasn’t tested the limits of his newly-gained stamina, and the bite on his side is burning. <|indexes|> 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> a girl, tightly rolled into a ball under one of the shock blankets. Her ginger hair blurred into the orange fabric and she looked distinctively pale under her freckles. Even while asleep, she had her brows knitted in worry. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Sherlock squirms prettily against his hands, and his cock stirs to life beneath his nightshirt. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “I couldn’t’ve wished for a better first word, honey,” John quietened him. “The two people I love most in all of this world and they share a name for me.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> A left, a left, a right, a leap through a gaping hole in a fence. Sherlock hasn’t tested the limits of his newly-gained stamina, and the bite on his side is burning. <|indexes|> 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> A left, a left, a right, a leap through a gaping hole in a fence <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> Still in a huff, he trudges alongside the road, his coat collar turned up against the freezing wind, until, finally, a cab pulls over for him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|example|> into the shallows. He was only a kid in a hopeless situation. As soon as he’d hear that Laney was safe, he would not resist his arrest. Sherlock and John would make sure that Lestrade and his officers would do everything in their power to spare him a conviction. They would testify on his behalf if necessary. Everything would be alright, Sherlock was convinced. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|example|> the snow and I guess I tried to convince myself that I didn’t feel attracted to you by hitting on anyone else really. That must’ve been horrible for you. Only when we got home and you didn’t talk to me anymore, I realized what a dick move that was.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> And there’s the pout that comes when the puppy dog eyes don’t work quickly enough. Honestly, it’s like dealing with a four-year-old. Sometimes John just doesn’t have the patience to engage in a battle of wills against Sherlock. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|example|> whole house was shaking with the intensity of it but probably it was rather his hand trembling than the bannister beneath it. John forced himself to draw deep steady breaths, stretching his treacherous fingers that already missed the feeling of silky curls and candent skin. The taste of Sherlock still lingered on his tongue, celestial and sweet as nectar, making every inch of his body scream for more, more, <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> And there’s the pout that comes when the puppy dog eyes don’t work quickly enough. Honestly, it’s like dealing with a four-year-old. Sometimes John just doesn’t have the patience to engage in a battle of wills against Sherlock. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|example|> of his neck and Sherlock tips his head back to meet them, almost letting a little hum of pleasure escape. He wriggles around to get properly comfy. His wolf has been gradually quieting since he got into bed with John, and now that he’s stroking his hair it’s completely silent, if a little tense. He wonders whether his wolf is in fact a cat. It’s clearly enjoying this petting. He is too. He’s so relaxed that he feels himself tense in surprise at a new flash of lightning, but then John’s fingers find a sensitive spot and he melts. He feels as much as he hears John breathe out a laugh. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He could get used to this. Maybe he could trick Sherlock into watching something besides BBC documentaries in the future. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | |

<|output|> <|example|> Still in a huff, he trudges alongside the road, his coat collar turned up against the freezing wind, until, finally, a cab pulls over for him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> And there’s the pout that comes when the puppy dog eyes don’t work quickly enough. Honestly, it’s like dealing with a four-year-old. Sometimes John just doesn’t have the patience to engage in a battle of wills against Sherlock. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|example|> into the shallows <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> Frustratingly, Dean isn’t comfortable around people, loves his solitude, but is somehow still a little weary of his isolation. He’s lonely, Sam says. Dean shoots him a hard look and an eye roll because Sam has always succeeded at making their lives sound like some sort of Hallmark movie. Dean’s killed Death, he’s not going to admit to something as simple and girly as being lonely and sad. As usual, Sam is right but Dean has zero intention of owning up to that. He can admit it to himself, though, in the safety of his own mind. Dean is lonely. Dean wonders. He gulps before moving forward, placing his lips around Cas nervously. The angel makes a sharp sound from the contact, the wet warmth surrounding him. Enough to drive even a holy Angel of God crazy. Dean sinks further, as best he can without gagging, his practice from years ago really paying, and Castiel moans Dean’s name in response. One hand rests on the brick wall and the other in Dean’s hair, tugging on it often. Every pull brings the hunter to make a sound and the vibrations nearly send the angel over the edge with each hum. Sam watches Dean enter the gas station, holding a handgun with marble designs. Once he’s inside, the bell only ringing quietly, Sam gets to work on the gas. He grabs the jugs from the trunk as quietly as he can, cringing when it opens with a squeak, and grabs the jugs as the car fills up. He hears noises around him but stays strong and doesn’t panic. The first jug finishes filling. After he was released from The Mark of Cain, he had dozens of restless nights from dreaming about what he had done to Cas. His hands covered in the angel’s blood, the way he never even fought him back. He took the beating and refused to harm Dean despite the fact that he almost killed him. He dreamed of actually going through with it for weeks. Cas feels himself falter. His wings fall to the ground as he stands there staring at Dean in shock. “Really..?” “No, it’s not.” I really wanted that cool ‘radio during an apocalypse thing. “When I woke up today a guy was eating another guy in front of the gas station across the street. He shoved him out a window too.” “Mornin’, Cas,” he wipes his mouth of drool before he turns over and kisses Cas’s lips softly, groaning as he feels an ache in his back. He huffs before cracking it. “man, I’m gettin’ old.” After working through three fingers, Cas lubes himself up and starts pushing into Dean slowly, rubbing his thigh as he does so and letting out words of encouragement and praise to him. Dean acts like he hates the praise coming from Cas, but really he loves it so much and he doesn’t know why. Cas lets out a cry of anger. He could no longer control himself. The box is shaking, rocking back and forth as Cas tries to escape the confined space. Dean bites his tongue to stop

<|output|> <|example|> Frustratingly, Dean isn’t comfortable around people, loves his solitude, but is somehow still a little weary of his isolation. He’s lonely, Sam says. Dean shoots him a hard look and an eye roll because Sam has always succeeded at making their lives sound like some sort of Hallmark movie. Dean’s killed Death, he’s not going to admit to something as simple and girly as being lonely and sad. As usual, Sam is right but Dean has zero intention of owning up to that. He can admit it to himself, though, in the safety of his own mind. Dean is lonely. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Dean wonders. He gulps before moving forward, placing his lips around Cas nervously. The angel makes a sharp sound from the contact, the wet warmth surrounding him. Enough to drive even a holy Angel of God crazy. Dean sinks further, as best he can without gagging, his practice from years ago really paying, and Castiel moans Dean’s name in response. One hand rests on the brick wall and the other in Dean’s hair, tugging on it often. Every pull brings the hunter to make a sound and the vibrations nearly send the angel over the edge with each hum. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> His wings fall to the ground as he stands there staring at Dean in shock <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> His wings fall to the ground as he stands there staring at Dean in shock <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> ?” “No, it’s not <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Sam watches Dean enter the gas station, holding a handgun with marble designs <|indexes|> 3 3 |

<|text|> himself from crying. He drops his phone to his lap once again, head back in it’s new home of his hands. The vines grow tighter. dread swells in his heart, making home with almost every inch and crevice. Young Punk Dean follows the mysterious Castiel back to his place and is pretty surprised by what he learns there. He hoped in vain. Michael all but told them so. Dean caught him at every step, but Michael had no compunction ripping the fabric of Dean’s consciousness apart. Lucifer felt Sam’s was always on the knife’s edge of becoming his ally, knew they would would unstoppable together. Michael did not hold that delusion. Dean was an enemy, a parasite, and unwanted guest. And Michael treated him as such. Dean's denial and repression is no match for Castiel's newly-human determination. Dean just doesn't know it yet. This is part two of “Cop Stop” wherein Castiel is a straight-laced rural Sheriff and Dean is basically a huge mess who happens to be endearing. Dean was frozen inside him as he felt the ill-intent roil and writhe in Michael’s grace, building with every passing minute until Michael wrapped Dean’s hands around the handsome man’s throat and squeezed. He let up on his control just enough to let Dean feel it - the pressure, the heat of his skin, the taut muscles and fragile bones of his neck and the way his body kicked and jerked in an attempt to fight him. Michael could have snapped his neck, easily and instantly, could have winked and scattered him into a million pieces. This, the agonizingly slow asphyxiation of some poor guy whose only mistake was finding Dean attractive, was a torture meant specifically and insidiously for Dean. And there were layers upon layers of cruelty in the way it crushed him - not just the way he’d used Dean’s hands to end an innocent person’s life, but the way he’d used Dean’s face to woo him, and his voice to lull him and bring him in close, warm and dark-eyed, by the way Michael had licked his lips. It was a taunt, to show Dean just how much he Prohibition Era: Dean's a moonshiner waiting to hand of the next shipment of booze to their contact from the city, Castiel. Dean is like something new, that has to be taught how to drink and eat and stand and walk. Except that he is very much not new. In that he has to be taught how to distinguish memory from reality, and how not to kill people he doesn’t recognize. . Sam tells him he isn’t. Tells him Dean is the strongest, most stubborn son of a bitch who ever lived, like it’s something he’s proud of. Tells him he knew Dean would make it through, tells him that even when everyone said Sam ought to give up, ought to let Dean wither away, ought to put him out of his misery, he knew Dean would survive. He tells Dean this, like it’s a victory. Like Dean doesn’t wake up every day aching, exhausted, disoriented and a pale shadow

<|output|> <|example|> himself from crying. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Young Punk Dean follows the mysterious Castiel back to his place and is pretty surprised by what he learns there. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> This, the agonizingly slow asphyxiation of some poor guy whose only mistake was finding Dean attractive, was a torture meant specifically and insidiously for Dean <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> And there were layers upon layers of cruelty in the way it crushed him - not just the way he’d used Dean’s hands to end an innocent person’s life, but the way he’d used Dean’s face to woo him, and his voice to lull him and bring him in close, warm and dark-eyed, by the way Michael had licked his lips <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> This, the agonizingly slow asphyxiation of some poor guy whose only mistake was finding Dean attractive, was a torture meant specifically and insidiously for Dean <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Dean was an enemy, a parasite, and unwanted guest <|indexes|> 3 3 |

<|text|> of his former self. Like Dean should be Dean’s been on a late to bed early to rise schedule since about five years old, and his body, though tired in a way he thinks most people cannot even fathom, cannot seem to break the lifelong habit of resisting rest. For anyone who might not know, Alateen is a support group for the children of alcoholics through the larger Al-Anon program. It’s an amazing resource for kids (usually 13-18) who are dealing with the effects of having an alcoholic adult in their life. My short description doesn’t really do it justice but if anyone is interested or in need of this, the link is below: “I- I’m good. My grace cleans the suit so I don’t need any other clothes.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s obvious he wants to ask about what happened but Dean is immensely glad he doesn’t. When he looks up again he sees a lot of questions hidden in Cas' eyes. He also looks like he really wants to argue with Dean but he ends up keeping his words relatively simple. “Why are you giving it a try now?” he asks, deciding to ignore Dean’s self-deprecating comment. He has to find him. He has to find him and figure out what’s happened and at the very least apologize for his outburst. Because even if this isn’t about that, he still could’ve refused therapy a lot less aggressively than hissing a no and storming out. He’s mapping out the angel’s chest with his mouth and tongue as he starts moving his hand slowly. Cas’ hands are suddenly at his shoulders, grabbing onto him harshly enough that it will surely bruise later but Dean can’t find it in himself to care. John grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking him up. “You failed your Mother,” he sends a kick to his gut. “You failed me,” Another kick. “You failed Sammy,” Kick. “And you even failed your little angel boyfriend,” The last kick is sent right to his ribs, knocking the air out of him. The boy heaves on the ground, shuddering as blood drips from his mouth. The demon rolls his eyes at his big words. Castiel flips another page of the book, another rope falling. Dean quickly unties the ropes at his feet and gets up quietly. After strolling up to Cas quietly he spins him around and shoves him against the wall of the dungeon, taking the angel blade from Cas’s coat sleeve and pointing it at his neck in one swift motion. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“ he’s cut off by Dean letting out a small, quiet sob and pulling him close, pushing his face into his shoulder and crying again. The angel panics, not knowing what to do before slowly rubbing his back with one hand, the other toying with his hair softly which makes Dean smile. Later that night everyone join’s up in the road house for a drink and to celebrate everyone being together again. Dean and Sam got to see Charlie again, Kevin who Jack finally let into

<|output|> <|example|> of his former self. Like Dean should be <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I- I’m good. My grace cleans the suit so I don’t need any other clothes.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s obvious he wants to ask about what happened but Dean is immensely glad he doesn’t. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> John grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking him up. “You failed your Mother,” he sends a kick to his gut. “You failed me,” Another kick. “You failed Sammy,” Kick. “And you even failed your little angel boyfriend,” The last kick is sent right to his ribs, knocking the air out of him. The boy heaves on the ground, shuddering as blood drips from his mouth. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 |

<|output|> <|example|> My grace cleans the suit so I don’t need any other clothes <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> John grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking him up <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> The angel panics, not knowing what to do before slowly rubbing his back with one hand, the other toying with his hair softly which makes Dean smile <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> After strolling up to Cas quietly he spins him around and shoves him against the wall of the dungeon, taking the angel blade from Cas’s coat sleeve and pointing it at his neck in one swift motion <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> The boy heaves on the ground, shuddering as blood drips from his mouth <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> ” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost. Dean loves the stupid little things about Cas, too. He loves how he snores in his sleep, how he likes to read the labels on everything he sees, he likes to point out flowers and animals and little facts about them and about how they came to be, who did it and who named them, discovered them. He likes to point out the moon every night they see her and even says hi to her, knowing her name and calling to her like she’s an old friend. Which, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if they were. He tells Dean about the stars and which ones he watched be created, which ones have already long since died out. He tells Dean about how he used to fly through the sky whenever he snuck out of Heaven, possessing a random willing person and just flying for hours at a time, enjoying the cool night breeze on his face and wings. “Fine,” Cas takes his pajamas and boxers off and throws them off the side of the bed, Dean copying him. The older brother shrugs. “I guess?” Sam groans. “Go take a shower Sammy, then get anything from your room you may need and pack a bag for it. I don’t know if we’ll be coming back.” Cas strolls up to the fridge, grabbing some milk and eggs from it. “Morning, Jack,” he says with a smile. Sam greets him as well. “Sam.” He rummages into the pantry and finds some flour and sugar, setting it on the counter beside the wet ingredients. The angel moves as he does, lips meeting hastily as they move together hungrily. Castiel can taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and it only fuels him. He pushes against Dean with all his strength and on instinct the hunter shifts his leg, causing the angel to let out a sound Dean would only be able to describe as the most heavenly before Cas moves his hands along Dean’s body. The touch stings but it only makes him enjoy it more. Castiel nods again, waving goodbye to Sam and following Dean to his room. Once behind a locked door, Dean whips around to look at Cas. “What happened in the hall, it made me worried for you. I just want to make sure you’re okay. But..” Castiel smiles back. “Why would I take a picture when I have the real, beautiful thing standing before me?” Sam nods, turning to Jack who has chocolate lining his mouth. “Yeah. Anything you want me to get for him?” Cas shakes his head. After he closes the door he sits himself down on their bed, sliding he and Dean’s socks off before bringing them both under the covers. The hunter lets out a soft sigh of contentment as Cas wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him close, warm breath on the back of his neck after a small kiss on the nape. He smiles in his sleep. Sam kicks his feet up on the

<|output|> <|example|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> He loves how he snores in his sleep, how he likes to read the labels on everything he sees, he likes to point out flowers and animals and little facts about them and about how they came to be, who did it and who named them, discovered them <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> He tells Dean about the stars and which ones he watched be created, which ones have already long since died out <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> ” He rummages into the pantry and finds some flour and sugar, setting it on the counter beside the wet ingredients <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> ” Castiel smiles back <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> He tells Dean about how he used to fly through the sky whenever he snuck out of Heaven, possessing a random willing person and just flying for hours at a time, enjoying the cool night breeze on his face and wings <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> He likes to point out the moon every night they see her and even says hi to her, knowing her name and calling to her like she’s an old friend <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> dash, making Dean frown, and nods. “I guess. That’s a long drive, though.” Dean rummages through his bag and pulls out a cassette tape, making Sam frown. “Really? Out of all the vital items you could’ve taken, you decided on a cassette tape.” He feels himself dozing off before Cas comes through the door, several items in hand and smiling when he sees Dean face planting into his side of the bed. “But how can I not, Cas? You- You have to get.. locked in this box for eternity and sent to the bottom of the ocean.. alone and I-I-“ He looks into Cas’s eyes, voice going quiet. “And I won’t be able to see you again..” Soon enough they make it to the library again, hands since departed. They walk up with the smiles still on their faces, but those soon fade once John points them “It’s just the movie Cas, don’t worry. It’ll happen again eventually, just so you know,” Dean says as he rubs his fingers on his angel’s back slowly. He hums at the gesture, chest rumbling making a Dean smile. Castiel grabs him by his chin and pulls him up slowly, looking deeply into his eyes before using his grace to throw him into the wall once again. Dean cries out in pain before Cas’s lips are on his, blood smearing messily. Dean can't help but think about how fucked this is, and it only makes him even more excited. They begin to move together, barely able to find a rhythm from their desperation. Dean makes sounds of pain as the angel kisses his torn lips but it doesn’t stop either of them, they continue to grind against each other. Castiel has a grip on him so hard Dean doesn’t even need to hold onto him if needed, he’s afraid they’re going to cave the wall in. “Alright, Cas, I think you’ve left enough. Now can we please get to the fucking already because I’m getting impatient,” Cas smiles at his words. “Thank you, Dean,” The hunter feels all bubbly from the soft smile and can’t help his own. “It’s not, stop blaming yourself. It was me or you and I couldn’t let you go through that again. It’s /my fault/.” “No, behind your back.” he orders instantly, and Dean can’t help but moan at that. He immediately moves his wrists behind his back and does not move them. Dean leans against his dresser before falling, phone dropping to his lap as the space in his hands is replaced with his own face. His chest hurts with every breath and sob, the thorns digging deeper each time. “Stop!” Dean yells. Castiel frowns. “Just.. stop it..” His voice goes quiet. “L-Let.. Let me take you home, Cas. Please. You don’t have to do all this-“ Slowly, Castiel brings his hand to the soft feathers again, noticing Dean’s face as he does so. The angel brings himself closer to Dean, eyes centered on the human’s raw lips. He smirks when he remembers that he’s knowledgeable on every special part of wings, knowing that he’s about to give Dean a joyride. “Okay,” he relishes

<|output|> <|example|> dash, making Dean frown, and nods. “I guess. That’s a long drive, though.” Dean rummages through his bag and pulls out a cassette tape, making Sam frown. “Really? Out of all the vital items you could’ve taken, you decided on a cassette tape.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He hums at the gesture, chest rumbling making a Dean smile <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> ” Soon enough they make it to the library again, hands since departed <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> That’s a long drive, though <|indexes|> 2 2 |

<|text|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair. He lets out a hum before getting up, holding Cas’s hand as he does so. “We need to get those beers before we’re suspected of anything.” Dean laughs. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Cold,” Cas gives him a look of confusion. “If you continue to be like that to my dad, as much as I appreciate it, he’s going to hate you or think you’re planning something. I know him, he’s a nut and will find himself convinced you’re trying to kill me or something.” The angel nods. “I know that on earth you’d only be able to see so many stars out here, but I wanted you to be able to appreciate what i saw eons ago before humanity filled the air with toxins.” , Dean thinks. One thrust lands a hit right to his prostate, making Dean scream in agonizing pleasure. He sees Castiel smirk through his hazy vision. Not long after, Dean falls asleep on him, breathing slowed and calm. The very sight and sound causes Castiel to feel himself drifting as well, his beloved strewn across his chest and wrapped around him, warm and loving and comfortable. And after a little awhile, he does join Dean in his slumber, hand once in his hair now slack and resting on his shoulder. The blankets tangled between their legs. Castiel pulls Dean closer to him, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back. “I think you are,” “You need to breathe, Dean. Gain your breath, don’t try speaking to me. It‘s okay,” Cas pulls away for a moment, looking into Dean’s eyes and wiping a tear from his cheek. “I’m here, okay? You’re okay. I’m here with you.” Dean shudders as he lets out a sigh of relief. “Do you want me to lie in bed with you, to help you sleep?” Normally Dean would refuse, push Cas away, but he’s so desperate to be close with someone, especially Cas, that he nods. Cas returns the action. “Okay. I’m going to take my coat and shoes off, okay? I’m still right here, I’m not leaving you.” A variety of knives in his hands, doused in the blood of the soul in front of him. His hands ripping them apart, around their throats, ripping out organs, everything. It’s all he saw. Dean raises his hand to Ellen to ask for another drink. “One more, then you gotta meet me outside to talk,” Cas nods. “It’s so loud in here, I can’t hear a damn thing,” “You’re-“ he grunts. “You’re so beautiful, Dean,” he leaves a sloppy kiss on his lover’s lips, tired pants leaving them both. “You’ve done so good, you’re so good for me…” also i removed the samwena tags because i forgot i made sam a minor and that would not be good, so this is just a destiel fic now! Before Dean can reach for the door handle he’s pulled into a kiss from Cas. The hunter smiles against his mouth as he rests his hands in his hips. He pulls away from Dean to look at

<|output|> <|example|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair. He lets out a hum before getting up, holding Cas’s hand as he does so. “We need to get those beers before we’re suspected of anything.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “One more, then you gotta meet me outside to talk,” Cas nods <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “I’m here, okay? You’re okay <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> The blankets tangled between their legs <|indexes|> 4 |

<|text|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” Slowly but surely, Castiel picks up speed, and eventually they’re moving together quickly, Cas fucking Dean into the mattress roughly after he had begged and begged. Dean let’s out loud moans of pleasure as he’s spread apart, back being bent with Cas leaning forward and leaving dark hicky’s along his neck. They both take a moment to adjust before starting to move, going slowly until Dean begs him to go faster. The windows steam as the old car rocks and creaks, a mix of their moans and names filling the car. The angel bites down hard on Dean’s lip when he’s fully inside him, making Dean let out an audible moan. The pain combined with the pleasure makes him want to combust, all he’ll ever want again is for Castiel to be inside him. Eventually the angel manages to tear himself from Dean’s superhuman grip and slips into some teal bee-print pajamas and one of Dean’s old t-shirts before making his way out of their room and into the kitchen, finding Sam drinking coffee looking at his laptop and Jack eating cereal in his R2D2 and C3P0 pajama set both sitting at the table. The sound of John’s voice behind him is loud like in the eerie silence like a cannon firing. “Look what you’ve done, boy.” Dean’s blood runs cold as he turns around, seeing his father. Sam clears his throat before speaking, setting his coffee down. “Uh, Jody and the girls can’t come down but they’re going to call later today to say hi to Dean,” Once the door is locked, Castiel starts stripping down as well. Unlike Dean who just threw his clothes into a corner, Cas neatly folds his clothes on his chair and placed his shoes underneath. As soon as he crawls under the covers Dean wraps his arms around Cas like a koala. The angel chuckles at the action and turns over so he could face him. Dean took the coat softly, an action he only does with Cas. He was always so careful with the angel, he was never that way with anyone else. Cas noticed but it was yet another thing he never mentioned to him, afraid to ruin the small and rare moments of vulnerability that Dean had. The hunter had run his fingers over the coat absentmindedly, an action he was so used to doing. It brought — no, brings him comfort. Dean could cum alone at just the sight of the fallen angel’s face, his dark hooded eyes, the blood on his wet swollen lips. Castiel hums and brings his lips to Dean’s, running his fingers through his hair while using the other hand to hold his thigh. The angel relishes in the soft sounds coming from the human beneath him, leaving trails of wet

<|output|> <|example|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Cas noticed but it was yet another thing he never mentioned to him, afraid to ruin the small and rare moments of vulnerability that Dean had <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> It brought — no, brings him comfort <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “Uh, Jody and the girls can’t come down but they’re going to call later today to say hi to Dean,” Once the door is locked, Castiel starts stripping down as well <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> They both take a moment to adjust before starting to move, going slowly until Dean begs him to go faster <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> sloppy kisses and love bites along his neck making Dean hum softly. Cas looks to Dean in confusion. “What was that for?” he sees Dean rubbing his mouth and neck with his sleeve. “Woah woah woah, you still have a smelly mop of hair to clean.” Dean says before pushing him under the spray of water and grabbing the bottle of shampoo. There’s silence behind the door for several moments, before Cas speaks lowly. “They’ve gone. Can we please continue now?” he asks impatiently. Sam frowns. “Dad’s missing, no one has power, we have to leave our home town and house, you woke up to a guy eating the fucking neighbor and you’re okay with this?” he gestures dramatically at Dean. Dean hums as he pours pancake batter into a pan, creating an almost perfect circle. He can’t help but let out a whistle. “Look at that, I’m amazing aren’t I?” “Dean? Are you alright?” Jack asks genuinely, worry clear on his tongue. He asks the question the same way Cas always would. He feels a blade form in his hand, and all he can think to do is swing. Move the blade around in front of him in an attempt to destroy the voices. And he gets something, something dead ahead of him. And the moment he stabs it, the voices stop. Everything stops around him. There’s no sound, no rustling in the trees nearby. He opens his eyes to see what he stabbed an his heart drops. He doesn’t notice Cas slowly regain consciousness, eyes squinting out of curiosity to try and make out where he was. The angel hears the sobs and sits up, looking down at Dean shaking like mad with an iron grip on the box. Dean bites his lip and says “Just one thing,” before landing a kick to his father’s gut. Dean feels an extremely heavy weight lift off his shoulders, allowing him to feel like he can finally breathe. “Okay, we can eat now.” Dean grabs his phone from his pocket, searching through his contacts and dialing the one he’s looking for. They don’t pick up, even though he was hoping for it. Every time he calls he hopes for an answer but he never finds one. It’s always leading to voicemail. Dean blushes and glares at Sam, running his fingers through his hair and slapping Cas’s hand away when he tries to help him. Castiel smiles, amused by his lover’s moodiness. He slaps Dean’s ass, and the hunter begins to regret informing Cas of couple things. “The bunker is haunted? And you haven’t fixed it yet?” John’s voice is harsh, laced with anger and annoyance. “There’s a trail of bodies that could be mistaken as dog food, they’re so torn to pieces, Sam. I’m sure it’s him.” Sam goes quiet. “I’m gonna try and get him, Sam..” “I know you did, Dean,” His wings lower to the ground. “I just wish you got to live out the life you always dreamed, if I had just gone down there and healed you..” Dean wavers for a moment before he shoves Sam away and starts stumbling back to his room,

<|output|> <|example|> sloppy kisses and love bites along his neck making Dean hum softly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” Dean wavers for a moment before he shoves Sam away and starts stumbling back to his room, <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> eyes bruised and face puffy from lack of sleep. His fingers feel raw and swelled, “You’re obviously very tired so I think it’s a good time for you to open your presents, don’t you?” Cas smirks. He lies in the dirt like a ragdoll for a good ten seconds before he starts shaking violently, sobbing uncontrollably. The angel rolls his eyes at him. He bumps into his door and swings it open, freezing from the smell. He hasn’t really noticed, he’s been in and out of his room since It happened. Can never sleep, what’s the point staying in. But it still smells like him. He wavered and hung out in his room so much that his smell stuck. The demon looks down at Cas, watching his confusion turn into scary hot lust once again. Before he knew what was happening they were flipped over, his bare, hot, sweaty back against the cold floor with Cas towering over him. He loses the ability to breath at just the sight. The angel smiles and kisses Dean’s forehead softly, making the human blush and smile as well. “I missed you too, Dean.” A spike of pain hits Dean like a tidal wave, him letting out a sharp gasp in response. The sound causes the angel to move even closer, their bodies pressed so close to each other. Castiel moves his hand up to Dean’s face, cupping it with his left hand. Fresh running blood pools in his palm and runs down his wrist, staining the stark-white work shirt. Dean lets out a whimper, terrified of the angel’s motives and of the possibility for it to bring more pain. He can’t handle more beatings. Cas is someone who helps him feel loved and safe, and he wouldn’t wish to have anything or anyone better for his birthday, or ever. On the other side of the door, in the hallway, John and Sam stand outside in silence. Sam stares at his father with worry, giving a silent plead to not do anything. But, of course he’d never listened to anyone. Dean gives a toothy grin. “Now,” He brings his knees to his chest and wraps himself around Castiel like a koala, both of them now lying down on the couch. “Let’s pay attention to the movie, this is one you Dean nearly finishes right then and there, his dull and messy nails clawing at the angel’s back desperately. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. Dean must have actually dozed off again because he swears only seconds have passed when Cas is announcing that his ten minutes are up. Dean groans and tightens his arms around the angel that is currently attempting to sit up - keeping him firmly pressed up against his chest. He reaches out and turns the water on, fumbling with the two faucets to get the temperature right. The water from the big shower head

<|output|> <|example|> eyes bruised and face puffy from lack of sleep. His fingers feel raw and swelled, <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> He loses the ability to breath at just the sight <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> “Now,” He brings his knees to his chest and wraps himself around Castiel like a koala, both of them now lying down on the couch <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> “Let’s pay attention to the movie, this is one you Dean nearly finishes right then and there, his dull and messy nails clawing at the angel’s back desperately <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Before he knew what was happening they were flipped over, his bare, hot, sweaty back against the cold floor with Cas towering over him <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He hasn’t really noticed, he’s been in and out of his room since It happened <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> On the other side of the door, in the hallway, John and Sam stand outside in silence <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> The angel smiles and kisses Dean’s forehead softly, making the human blush and smile as well <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. He can feel the hole in his chest he’s grown so accustomed to trying to pull him in without mercy. He can practically feel it eating away at him, trying to shred any sense of happiness he might have until he shatters and collapses into himself. It’s pulling and pulling and it’s so Cas walks over to Dean, having no idea why he hates Dean’s companion so much even if they have yet to speak. He doesn’t know why he throws a sinister look her way only to see the woman’s eyebrows raise in silent confusion. He wants to hiss back, his brother beginning to seriously piss him off. It’s not a fucking difficult question to answer! dictates his choices and decisions, not some undiagnosed mental illnesses. The illusion brings on the calmness, and the calmness brings on the illusion and for a moment he’s okay. A sob escapes Dean’s lips and he thinks he hears Cas calling his name again but he’s pushing the door open because he has to get out. He has to get out before the walls close in on him. Cas starts to adjust his position and Dean feels a knee brush against his upper thigh as he brings it to rest on the bed. It’s much better on his neck and he feels himself melting against Cas, a low hum building up in his throat. Dean glances around the room, looking for his phone with the intention of letting Sam know they’re leaving so he doesn’t worry, before he remembers he still doesn’t know where the device is. “Can you text Sam we’re heading out?” Dean asks, his eyes settling on the seraph again. “Are you okay?” Sam asks but when Dean looks over at him he can tell his brother isn’t expecting an actual answer. He knows him better than that. Once the flour is in the other bowl Dean continues. “A quarter cup of sugar,” he says, and while Cas is doing that he takes out the measuring teaspoons. “One teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of baking powder,” he says, moving to practically hover over Cas as he watches him mix all the ingredients together. Their bodies are so close that Cas’ arm brushes over Dean’s chest with every movement and the angel suddenly finds himself having a really hard time focusing on what Dean’s saying. “Yes, I know, but that stupid fucking idiot is already wasted,” he growls, beginning to look like he’s itching to punch something. “I swear to God, I am like this close,” he puts his thumb and forefinger really close to each other, “to dragging his ass to rehab,” he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. “He to try on, only for him to double over with laughter when Cas came out from behind the curtain of the changing room. ” comes Sam’s voice from the other side, and by his tone, the angel can tell with a high amount of certainty that the hunter has

<|output|> <|example|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Dean glances around the room, looking for his phone with the intention of letting Sam know they’re leaving so he doesn’t worry, before he remembers he still doesn’t know where the device is <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “I swear to God, I am like this close,” he puts his thumb and forefinger really close to each other, “to dragging his ass to rehab,” he growls, his eyes blazing with anger <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> Their bodies are so close that Cas’ arm brushes over Dean’s chest with every movement and the angel suddenly finds himself having a really hard time focusing on what Dean’s saying <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “He to try on, only for him to double over with laughter when Cas came out from behind the curtain of the changing room <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> “He to try on, only for him to double over with laughter when Cas came out from behind the curtain of the changing room <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> It’s much better on his neck and he feels himself melting against Cas, a low hum building up in his throat <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> Once the flour is in the other bowl Dean continues <|indexes|> 6 |

<|text|> his eyebrows raised. “Hey,” Cas says softly and Dean looks back at him. “I meant it when I said that I’ll meet you wherever you are. So there’s no need to rush this,” he says gently. “We’ve got time.” “And absolutely true,” Dean cuts him off, voice stern. “So let’s not get our panties in a wad here and move past it.” He sees Sam take the earbuds out of his ears and it takes him another minute before he reaches over and lowers the volume of the music. “Look, Dean, I’m sorry,” he says. The angel occasionally attempts to make some sort of a sentence only to give up after the first word or two and let it turn into a broken sound. Cas’ body tenses at the reminder. “I was homeless for the majority of it, Dean,” he says curtly. “I couldn’t exactly . Trailing up and down his body, grabbing where he doesn’t want them to but has to allow because Sammy needs to eat. He can't catch his breath and the tears are falling now and he can’t stop them - no matter how hard he tries. He needs to stop the tears because they aren’t going to like it and then he’s not going to get paid. “No, no way,” Sam says, instantly crushing his hopes, “Grease will only make the hangover worse. Today you’re eating healthy.” And the hunger. Oh, the fucking hunger. A memory of the day he got the Enochian tattoo crosses his mind and he remembers just how hungry he was. How his stomach clenched painfully as he stared at the hot dog stand in front of the tattoo shop, wishing above all else that he could get that instead. How hard he had to persuade himself not to. Somewhere deep down he knows that the kid must just be really busy running Heaven but all logic has left him a good hour or two ago. It’s just emotions now. And he trusts them, dammit does he trust them. He trusts them to see him as something more than he sees himself. He trusts them to be there when he needs them most. He trusts them to anchor him when he’s drifting away and pull him out of the water when he’s drowning. He moves his hand from Cas’ neck to cup his cheek, the man’s stubble scratching at his palm. He deepens the kiss, flicking out his tongue against Cas’ and the angel lets out a little needy whimper. It elicits a deep growl from Dean, who has to seriously restrain himself from picking the angel up and throwing him on the bed so he could fuck him until neither of them remembered their names. Then Dean decides to turn to the woman and opens his stupid mouth. “It was really nice meeting you,” he says with a radiant smile. “Call me if you ever need that car looked at. It’d be a pleasure.” His tone tipping into flirtatious. That’s when he struggles to find a reason to continue the most. He struggles to persuade himself to get up and go exhaust himself mentally pretending

<|output|> <|example|> his eyebrows raised. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Call me if you ever need that car looked at <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> “So let’s not get our panties in a wad here and move past it <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Today you’re eating healthy <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> A memory of the day he got the Enochian tattoo crosses his mind and he remembers just how hungry he was <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> he’s okay. And he finds that every day he struggles with finding that reason just a tiny bit more. But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end. Cas looks like he has something more to say but in the end, he decides against it, and with a flutter of wings he disappears. “Dean.” Cas’ eyes narrow a little, his voice more serious. Of course, the angel saw right through his bullshit. He knows him too well. Dean wants to protest again but he ends up giving in: “Fine.” Because Cas is right, he is tired. He abandons the breakfast and moves to the bed, sliding under the covers. As soon as his head hits the pillows the tiredness turns into bone-deep exhaustion and he’s out before Cas even leaves the room. Dean is still looking at his phone when he lets out an annoyed sigh and rolls his eyes. He picks up the device and turns it to show Cas a notification on his locked screen. He tries to argue, he really does, but… but how do you argue against something you believe in? How do you argue that your life matters and that people love you when you can’t see it? When you don’t see your self-worth? When you don’t see your importance? Neither of them responds and they spend the next couple of minutes calming down Dean’s breathing. Once Dean is able to take a couple of deep breaths he drops his hand from the angel’s chest. Cas thanks Sam, who’s still on the line, and hangs up. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, his heavy, sleep-clouded body groaning in protest. He gets up with a grunt and checks the time on his laptop to see that it’s three in the afternoon. Yet, despite having slept nearly nine hours he still feels absolutely exhausted. What normally would be considered a highly above average hours of sleep a night for him, in the end still isn’t able to make up for his lack of sleep in the past nearly eleven months. Dean reaches for his badge again and shows it to the man, seeing Cas do the same. “Agent Ulrich,” he introduces himself. “My partner, agent Moscone.” “Really?” Dean asks, amazed, and when Cas looks up he sees a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Does it work on others too?” he asks with a smile, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. He uses his body to pin the seraph against the door, the space between them suddenly unbearable. His hand moves from Cas’ cheek into his hair and the angel lets out a needy sound. Dean rolls his hips against the shorter man out of pure instinct and Cas’ hands move from his shirt to his lower back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Sam?” he calls, making his way to meet his brother. “We really need to get a microwave!” He rounds into the war room and sees his brother walking down the stairs, a grocery bag in each hand. Sam looks up at him with a small smile. “The

<|output|> <|example|> he’s okay. And he finds that every day he struggles with finding that reason just a tiny bit more. But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> ” “Really?” Dean asks, amazed, and when Cas looks up he sees a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. Sam nods and lets his hand drop. “Food will help with the symptoms. Your blood sugar levels are low and you’re dehydrated.” He needs to know Sammy’s okay. He needs to know Sammy’s okay so he can breathe. So he can breathe and know he isn’t there anymore. In those cheap motel rooms, those truck stop bathrooms, doing pretty much anything so he could feed his baby brother. “Thank you for tonight," Dean says when Cas kills the engine. “I really needed to get out,” he admits genuinely. The only times he has gone outside after Cas was taken was to hunt or go to a bar. And since Sam forcefully cut down on Dean’s hunting he only ever went out to get drunk. Sam even tried to get him to cut down on that too, as he was not only probably worried out of his mind but also sick and tired of having to go pick his brother up pretty much every day. He takes a couple of deep breaths and when he drops his hands again, his vision is a little distorted from the pressure applied to his eyeballs. He waits for his eyes to recover before he sets the car to drive and heads out of the parking lot. He can feel the hunter still in his arms - not unlike a frightened animal - before looking down at him with wide eyes. “Do what?” he asks, slight panic present in his voice. Panic he undoubtedly tried to hide. “No.” Dean shakes his head, his eyes never leaving Cas’. “I get that you could have seriously hurt me, and I get that you hate yourself even for the bruises but I-” his voice falters for a moment, “I trust you with my life and I trust you not to hurt me.” It doesn’t work, never had a sliver of a chance in working, and when he looks around his vision is blurry with tears. He wipes them away and then his eyes land on the black Chevrolet, an audible sigh of relief escaping his lips. He pushes the thought down the best he can, because if he keeps thinking about it he’s going to fall apart. “Not you too,” he grumbles quietly and goes to set the plate on the small table hidden behind the door. Cas sits down with him and watches him shovel the eggs into his mouth. He takes a bite out of the avocado toast and hates to admit it’s not half bad. interested, and somehow able to involve the hunter in a casual conversation. Somehow be able to get the hunter to drop his guard and drink with her, which is something that took Cas literal years to achieve. Fury flares up in his brother’s eyes. “NOT FAIR?!” he yells. “I’ve been trying to get you to cut back for seven months! realize he can do better? What if he truly

<|output|> <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Sam even tried to get him to cut down on that too, as he was not only probably worried out of his mind but also sick and tired of having to go pick his brother up pretty much every day <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> He can feel the hunter still in his arms - not unlike a frightened animal - before looking down at him with wide eyes <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Sam nods and lets his hand drop <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> sees Dean for the poor attempt at a functioning human being that he is, and moves on? It’s honestly the last thing on the list of shit he wants to do today… or anywhere in the foreseeable future. The case looks to be a quick salt-and-burn so surely, they could ditch it and let some other hunter take care of it. Surely nobody would blame him if he decided to abandon the case and instead spend time with Cas. Because yesterday was fun… well, except their little miscommunication moment but that’s such a common thing he finds himself unable to dwell on it. Hell, they practically had sex afterward, so it’s already in the past. “And you don’t mind?” he whispers, staring into the hunter’s eyes. They are so impossibly intense this up close. They’re so heated and so Dean stops maybe a foot into the room and Cas watches him scan the area before looking over to the coffee station. His own eyes glance over as well to see the pot empty. “Huh,” Dean says. “Sam must have stayed at Eileen’s.” And Sam doesn’t help. His brother is still furious with him for hurting his best friend - someone he sees like a brother - and would barely talk to him over the past two weeks. He chuckles suddenly and the angel pulls back to look him in the eyes. “What?” he asks, not understanding which one of his actions might have been interpreted as humorous. He sees Miracle sprinting over to them and he crouches down with a grin. The dog barrels into him and he hugs him close, scratching behind his ears as he does. Miracle’s tail is wagging so hard it’s affecting his entire body, making him thrash violently in Dean’s arms. The hug is rewarded with multiple licks of Dean’s face and he lets go of Miracle with a laugh. The angel’s familiar fragrance envelops him completely and Dean’s eyes flutter shut. All thoughts vacate his mind and he feels his body relax by pure instinct. Dean shifts around so he can push the angel back down on his bed. He lies down on top of him and Cas lets out a beautiful, quiet moan. One of Cas’ hands comes to rest on his waist, pulling his body closer, while the other finds its way into his hair. “I don’t think that Bambi ran around in panic,” he says. “If we want to assign emotions to him, I would have gone with distress, but definitely not panic. I mean, his mother did die when he was only a fawn.” “I missed you so much,” he breathes out and immediately realizes that it might have sounded like he had only missed the angel for his powers. He pulls back so he can look into the man’s eyes, his arms remaining tightly wrapped around the angel’s shoulders. Their faces are so close, the intense blue of Cas’ eyes blurring together a little. “Not because of your angel mojo or anything—” he starts explaining, but Cas cuts him off. He watches Dean as he looks over, the hunter stopping mid-sentence as

<|output|> <|example|> sees Dean for the poor attempt at a functioning human being that he is, and moves on? <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Huh,” Dean says <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He watches Dean as he looks over, the hunter stopping mid-sentence as <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> The angel’s familiar fragrance envelops him completely and Dean’s eyes flutter shut <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “If we want to assign emotions to him, I would have gone with distress, but definitely not panic <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> His brother is still furious with him for hurting his best friend - someone he sees like a brother - and would barely talk to him over the past two weeks <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Miracle’s tail is wagging so hard it’s affecting his entire body, making him thrash violently in Dean’s arms <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> “Not because of your angel mojo or anything—” he starts explaining, but Cas cuts him off <|indexes|> 6 |

<|text|> he recognizes Cas and Sam at the door. Cas watches as his relaxed smile turns large and goofy. “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process. Cas opens his mouth to voice his earlier thoughts but when Dean lowers himself on the bed and straddles his hips, he finds the words slipping through his fingers like sand. Dean gently rests his hands on his bare chest and looks down at him with what could only be described as a seductive smirk and blazing heat in his eyes. Cas pauses, glad that Sam has brought up that topic on his own. He actually wanted to ask him what he should do when Dean, inevitably, has another panic attack. He knows he could just ‘google it’, as Dean would say, but he doesn’t exactly trust the small machines. And it’s not like they know Dean like Sam does. So, he doesn’t hide it from him and when he looks over at the angel and sees his bright eyes and radiant smile, he’s infinitely glad he hadn’t. He blasts the music, and he sings along to the songs whose lyrics’ he knows, botch those he doesn’t, and switches between channels when talk shows or ads come on. He would occasionally glance over at Cas - who was watching him with a soft smile and an even softer look - and pretends as if he was singing for him. The lady raises her eyebrows at the angel’s correction but ends up shrugging. “Okay,” she says, not buying in the slightest that they are not actually together but clearly not giving enough fucks to argue. They pay for two nights - there’s no way in hell they’re going to be done faster than that - and she hands them the key. Sam’s eyes look at Dean’s outstretched arm—the one he’s just starting to regain feeling in again, since he used it as a makeshift pillow. “Dean,” his brother starts, and by his tone, Dean already knows he doesn’t want to hear it. “Did you drink an entire bottle last night?” His eyes find Dean’s again. They’re accusatory but Dean can easily see the terror hidden in them. “I thought you said you were cutting back.” His tone is disappointed and a lot like he’s scolding a kid for stealing a cookie. The angel turns to look at him, tilting his head in confusion upon seeing the nervousness in Dean’s features. “Yes?” he asks, setting the bags he has been carrying down. Another thing: I got no idea how American stores work – never been to the states – but it hopefully isn’t much different from European ones. Cas’ eyebrows relax a little, the confusion lifting from his features. “Oh,” he says. It’s quiet and uncertain and makes Dean’s stomach drop down to his feet. He desperately wants to go back those couple of seconds and punch himself in the face for that stupid joke. Why on earth does he have to have the compulsive need to lift the atmosphere whenever it gets too dark? “Why am I giving it a

<|output|> <|example|> he recognizes Cas and Sam at the door. Cas watches as his relaxed smile turns large and goofy. “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He would occasionally glance over at Cas - who was watching him with a soft smile and an even softer look - and pretends as if he was singing for him <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> The lady raises her eyebrows at the angel’s correction but ends up shrugging <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> He actually wanted to ask him what he should do when Dean, inevitably, has another panic attack <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” They initially intended to split up in their search - one of them would take the front entrance and one the back and they’d meet in the middle - but the cabin ended up being so small it didn’t even have a back entrance. It feels like his mind has abandoned his body and his mouth stops nipping at the base of Cas’ neck. All of his senses get hyper-focused on that sensation but to his disappointment, it’s gone before he knows it - Cas’ hands dropping down from his body. Dean catches them and returns them to his hips. “No, no, you’re good,” he murmurs against the angel’s skin, his voice low and gravelly. He wants to tell Cas how amazing it felt but his mind is too hazy with pleasure to be forming complete sentences. Or any at all for that matter. “Dean?” Someone’s shaking him lightly. There’s a lot of concern in their voice and after a moment Dean realizes it’s Sam. well with the smell of coffee, which seems to always linger on the hunter’s skin, making him smell like a coffee shop. Tainted with mistakes and regrets. Broken from all the traumatic events he had to go through - whether as a child or an adult. Aching with all the loss he has suffered. Dean’s other hand is taking hold of Cas' and moving it down and the angel’s breath hitches when he slides it under his shirt. Dean’s skin is warm against his cool fingers and he feels the man shiver at the contact. “You don’t like coffee,” Dean counters with a small smile. His comment makes Cas pull back and look into his eyes with raised, questioning eyebrows. “Well, first of all,” Dean starts, “you always make a face when you drink it, no matter how much you try to hide it. And second of all, don’t you dare think I forgot you only taste molecules.” The moment the liquid hits his taste buds, and he feels that familiar burn on his tongue, a wave of relief washes over him, numbing all the screaming in his head. Everything calms and quiets just enough that he can hear a thought without being assaulted by it and it’s like he’s finally managed to take a breath after nearly drowning. , and I’m not doing that to my body,” he says, closing the laptop, his words eliciting an eye roll from Cas. “Now you’ll add the milky egg thing to the mixture, whisking as you pour it in,” Dean says, his voice a little rough and Cas can feel his heart picking up in his chest. “Actually, no,“ Sam says, his eyes lighting up, “the alcohol should no longer be in your system at this point-” “I don’t know, Sam!” His voice comes out a little harsher than he probably intended. “He’s pale and shaking and won’t talk to me.” The angel sets the phone down on the ground, his hands reaching for Dean’s own,

<|output|> <|example|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> There’s a lot of concern in their voice and after a moment Dean realizes it’s Sam <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> “Dean?” Someone’s shaking him lightly <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> ” The angel sets the phone down on the ground, his hands reaching for Dean’s own, <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> ” The angel sets the phone down on the ground, his hands reaching for Dean’s own, <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> “He’s pale and shaking and won’t talk to me <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> ” The angel sets the phone down on the ground, his hands reaching for Dean’s own, <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> Aching with all the loss he has suffered <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> gently prying his fingers away from his arms. He feels Cas’ warm breath on his skin and it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. “I’m so sorry it took so long,” he whispers to the angel with as much sincerity as he can muster. “Don’t,” Dean cuts him off, a smile tugging at his lips. He sees panic flash in Cas’ eyes so he quickly continues. “Don’t- don’t call it that.” If anyone’s read last chapter’s notes when the chapter came out, you would know that I mentioned that I’ll be moving the warnings to the end notes. However, I was asked to not do that, so they’ll remain at the beginning for future chapters. “Cas, I want you to tell me honestly. Am I pushing you? Because if the real reason you don’t want to do this isn’t that you’re worried about me, but because you’re uncomfortable I’ll stop.” He stares into Cas’ eyes, his own serious. “I’ll drop it and won’t bring it up again. I promise.” He tries to look away from Cas and focus on figuring out how the hell the angel found him when he’s warded, but instead the best he manages to do is tearing his gaze away from Cas’ eyes, but not from his body. So he lets his eyes wander, taking in the familiar clothing. He notices that his tie is flipped the right way for once but other than that he looks exactly the same. “Dean?!” He’s rolled over onto his back and then there are two fingers pressed to the side of his neck. He finally unbuckles the belt and undoes the pants and starts pushing them down Cas’ legs. He can’t reach far enough, can’t get them far down enough, and is hit with disappointment when Cas breaks off. It doesn’t last because when he opens his eyes he sees that Cas is practically ripping the fabric off of himself. He kicks his shoes off with such force you’d think he had a personal vendetta against them. He looks up to see the hunter’s walls well in place, the man preparing for new information that he will most definitely not like. Cas swallows hard and takes a deep breath. Cas lets out an amused huff. “No, uhm… depression and anxiety and… and mental illness, in general, is not a thing amongst angels.” He downs the rest of the beer and gets up to grab a new one. He hears the door to the bunker open and he lets out a relieved sigh - grateful for the distraction. If the images from the dream were to keep replaying in his mind, his resolve not to reach for hard liquor ten minutes after he woke up is not going to last. he hears an echo of Sam’s words, making his stomach drop down all the way to his feet. It doesn’t matter if the words are pulled out of context - if that’s not what Sam originally meant by them - because ultimately his brother is right. He’s right and the realization crashes down onto Dean like a merciless wave. It tries to

<|output|> <|example|> gently prying his fingers away from his arms. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> It tries to <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> If the images from the dream were to keep replaying in his mind, his resolve not to reach for hard liquor ten minutes after he woke up is not going to last <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He can’t reach far enough, can’t get them far down enough, and is hit with disappointment when Cas breaks off <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Don’t- don’t call it that <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He looks up to see the hunter’s walls well in place, the man preparing for new information that he will most definitely not like <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> pull him under the surface and deep into the darkness until his lungs threaten to collapse and he inhales the blackness and lets it consume him. Is Dean just not trying enough? Is that why Sam can see it? Maybe if he left the bunker more, and if he forced himself to eat more, and he did more chores maybe Sam would think he’s doing better? - tipping his head to the side to give him more access with a soft sigh. Dean starts impatiently unbuttoning the angel’s shirt, but it proves frustratingly difficult with his trembling hands. ’ He hears Cas’ words replay in his mind and he’s suddenly overtaken by such a strong wave of hopelessness and anger he has to physically restrain himself from banging on the steering wheel and screaming his lungs out. Restrain himself from letting one of those bloodcurdling, ear-piercing, incensed screams that would carry on for miles were this a cartoon. A scream that would portray the overwhelming wave of despair better than any words ever could. Dean should be able to breathe now - he knows Sammy’s safe - but the hands are still gripping and trailing and scratching and he thinks he hears a faint whispering of what the Johns would say to him and he still can’t A part of him is still whispering to let go, that he’s making this awkward, but he doesn’t care. It’s been ten months since he’s seen his best friend, he’s not letting go now. He feels Cas snuggle his face into Dean’s shoulder and Dean can feel all previous worry that the angel hates him melting away. He was just being stupid. Overthinking it and creating something that wasn’t there. Of course Cas wouldn’t hate him. The human turns in his arms, abandoning the manual, and catches his lips with his own. His hands come up into Cas’ hair and the angel is backing him up against the wall before he even knows he’s moving. He uses his hips to pin the hunter against the wall and Dean makes a tiny sound at the back of his throat. Cas instinctively and a little uncontrollably bucks his hips against Dean’s and the tiny sound turns into a deep groan. He can feel Dean’s fingers tighten in his hair as he tries to pull him deeper into the kiss. A voice whispers, and he’s not even sure if it’s meant to be reassuring or cause him more distress but “Shhhh.” Dean leans in, his face just inches away from Cas’. “You need to give yourself more credit,” he murmurs and then finally presses a kiss against his lips. Cas leans into it, his mind instantly abandoning the pancakes on the stove. Dean wanders around the bunker in vain, feeling more and more worried with each passing minute. His gut is telling him something’s wrong but he can’t seem to put his finger on what. He’s starting to believe Cas went out with Sam for a run or something until he turns into the hallway leading to the kitchen and hears a pan sizzling. “He said that… that

<|output|> <|example|> pull him under the surface and deep into the darkness until his lungs threaten to collapse and he inhales the blackness and lets it consume him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> His hands come up into Cas’ hair and the angel is backing him up against the wall before he even knows he’s moving <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> ’ He hears Cas’ words replay in his mind and he’s suddenly overtaken by such a strong wave of hopelessness and anger he has to physically restrain himself from banging on the steering wheel and screaming his lungs out <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Is Dean just not trying enough? Is that why Sam can see it? Maybe if he left the bunker more, and if he forced himself to eat more, and he did more chores maybe Sam would think he’s doing better? - tipping his head to the side to give him more access with a soft sigh <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “You need to give yourself more credit,” he murmurs and then finally presses a kiss against his lips <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> ’ He hears Cas’ words replay in his mind and he’s suddenly overtaken by such a strong wave of hopelessness and anger he has to physically restrain himself from banging on the steering wheel and screaming his lungs out <|indexes|> 4 |

<|text|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. So, he opens his mouth, needing to warn Cas that he needs to run from him as fast and as far away as he can before Dean breaks him too. He wants to make him understand that caring for him always ends up bloody - always with a casualty. “Yeah, uhm…” Cas stammers out, “Jack has repaired all the angels’ wings when he became God,” he says quietly. Dean turns around to see that Cas’ cheeks are flushed a dark color and he’s looking anywhere but at him. “Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas asks and his voice is so gentle it makes Dean’s eyes sting, and he wants to tell him to stop. He wants to tell him that he doesn’t deserve his love. His affection. Concern. Loyalty. He tries his best not to focus on that, instead returning his attention back to the long sighs Cas is letting out as he circles his tongue around the nipple. It gave Cas a lot of time to think and whether he wanted to or not, his mind kept wandering back to the incident at the steakhouse. The way that the simple touch had Dean tensing up, his body and mind going into full-blown panic. The fact that he had to get out and practically run and hide behind the dumpsters. The fact that he couldn’t catch his breath and Cas had absolutely no idea what was going on. Cas’ mouth falls open again but he finds that all thoughts have abandoned him, leaving pure, raw shock. The angel is dressed back in his usual attire, his beige trench coat covering his navy suit with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He has a steely, well-guarded expression and he holds himself like a soldier would near an enemy. “Hello, Dean,” he says but it’s cold, his words lacking any sort of emotion. He slows just as he’s about to turn into the room, his vision practically swimming. But he’s there. Sammy’s there and he’s okay. He’s okay. Dean lets out a relieved sigh but it comes out more like a sob. Whoever is reading this, I hope you're well and you liked the chapter! Let me know what you thought! If you feel like something's off or something doesn't make sense, feel free to let me know! They start mapping out his lower back, slowly and purposefully moving upwards until they have had enough of the fabric and start tugging it up and out of the way. And Cas doesn’t fight him. He raises his arms and Dean takes the shirt off in just a second, throwing it away. “I heard people talk about it over the years,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together again as he stares at the screen. “I saw a woman walking out of a restaurant once yelling she’ll give them a bad Yelp review.” He looks up at Dean. “I had no

<|output|> <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” He looks up at Dean <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He tries his best not to focus on that, instead returning his attention back to the long sighs Cas is letting out as he circles his tongue around the nipple <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> His affection <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas asks and his voice is so gentle it makes Dean’s eyes sting, and he wants to tell him to stop <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> He slows just as he’s about to turn into the room, his vision practically swimming <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Loyalty <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> ” He looks up at Dean <|indexes|> 6 |

<|text|> idea what that was at the time.” When they pull over into the steakhouse's parking lot an hour later, Dean has a perpetual grin stuck to his face despite his rumbling stomach. He hates how his body stiffs when Dean throws his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Hey, Cas.” He hears the hunter slur happily. Cas doesn’t know why he pats Dean on the back awkwardly and pulls back. “Sam,” he sighs, disappointment thickly laced through his voice, but he’s too worried about his best friend to care. Dean gets impulsive when he’s angry and it’s exactly like him to go find something to hunt when he’s upset. Dean would have never trusted him again. He most likely already won’t after seeing the state his back and shoulders are in. He will, without a doubt, never want to get intimate with Cas again. At any moment the door to the bathroom will open and Dean will tell Cas that he repulses him now. That he can’t trust him not to hurt him. And how could he blame him? Especially when his back is covered in bruises ranging anywhere from angry red to dark purple? Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” “In one of.. what—Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asks, getting up to sit on the bar stool. Dean falters. He turns on the radio, static. He turns the nobs, static. Sam frowns. “It’s probably broken.” “I’m sorry, Cas…” Dean says softly, sincere. “I wish I’d known you wanted to celebrate holidays with us,” “What-“ he starts harshly, voice broken. He sighs and gathers himself. “What do you want, kid.” He still sounds harsh but he can’t help it. “I dunno. But there were no cops. Nothing, no one was there. I tried calling 911, but I had no service. No wifi either, power’s down.” Sam gives him a nervous look. “We’re living in a Zombieland movie, Sammy.” “I don’t think it's gonna work man-“ Suddenly a gust of wind fills the room as extra weight is added to his back. He looks behind him, gasping when he sees two giant pairs of pure white wings. “Holy shit,” Cas pulls Dean into a hug. “I know but.. would you rather I be a psychotic uncontrollable blood-thirsty killer?” Castiel laughs, “Well now that I know that I’m going to have to make you cut down.” Dean frowns. “I can’t heal you anymore, and Chuck isn’t here to make you immune to disease or health conditions. I don’t want you getting a heart attack on me, Dean,” Once they enter the kitchen together Dean feels himself calm down some more, being in a location he has good memories of with the man he loves. He hops onto the counter and sighs. He needs to take a breather. The hunter’s caught off guard when Cas walks between Dean’s legs, hands on his hips and lips meeting his. Dean feels himself soften at the very action. The heels of his shoes touch the back of Cas’s clothed thighs. Right now, what

<|output|> <|example|> idea what that was at the time.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> No wifi either, power’s down <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> mattered to him was that he was sitting beside Cas on their shared bed, in their shared room with their two individual pillows and sides of the bed and the angel’s arms around Dean, the latter’s head lying on Cas’s shoulder. The hunter hums before turning to his lover. “Hey, Cas, it’s okay. Just calm down for me, okay?” Dean rubs his shoulder to help him even his breathing. Dean stops dead in his tracks once he see’s the man sitting in one of the chairs, back straightening. Cas notices and brings his eyes to where Dean’s lie, and freezes as well. John Winchester, back from the dead. They only had their boxers, socks and pajama pants on so it didn’t take long for them to end up naked. Dean gives Cas a playful squeeze of his ass before stepping under the hot water of the shower with a soft moan. Cas joins him, pressing against his back with his arms around his torso and placing a kiss on his neck. The warm water trails down around them and Dean smiles. Sam looked like he was waiting to see a corpse when they arrived, relief clear on his face once he saw Dean and Cas alive and in one piece. Dean pats the angel’s back and gives a weary look to Sam, mouthing a ‘thank you’ for saving their asses. His brother nods. Cas pulls Dean back to his side and cups his face, asking him if he’s okay. Dean nods but doesn’t take his eyes off his father, who appears to be seething with anger. Cas joins him, glaring at the Winchester’s father. Dean pulls away and stuffs his face into Cas’s neck again, breathing in the smell of cedar wood and old books, a scent he’s come to love so much. Tears flow from his eyes as he holds Castiel tighter. “Yeah, a lot more has happened while you were gone. But I think it’s best we wait until Dean and Cas are here to explain more.” he mumbles the next words under his breath. “ Dean feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and it only goes faster when Cas places his palm right on it. Oddly enough, his touch makes him soften. While his heart does feel like it’s about to explode, as well as his emotional wall, the hand on his chest helps him feel grounded. “I know. I know, Cas, but it’s not right. regret all the things I did because of the mark. It feels amazing, but in the long run it brings so much dread and guilt that.. that... that you want to kill yourself.” Dean says, gun lowering to his side subconsciously. “I don’t want you getting to that point, Cas. Not again. So please, /please/, come home with me.” ” against his lips. Slowly Castiel pushes Dean into the mattress, bringing himself between his legs. Their mouths move together softly with Dean letting out soft sounds against him with every tug of a feather. Dean feels terror flood his system, hands flat at his sides. “Yes sir, sorry sir.” Castiel steps

<|output|> <|example|> mattered to him was that he was sitting beside Cas on their shared bed, in their shared room with their two individual pillows and sides of the bed and the angel’s arms around Dean, the latter’s head lying on Cas’s shoulder. The hunter hums before turning to his lover. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Dean nods but doesn’t take his eyes off his father, who appears to be seething with anger <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> They only had their boxers, socks and pajama pants on so it didn’t take long for them to end up naked <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> “I don’t want you getting to that point, Cas <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> mattered to him was that he was sitting beside Cas on their shared bed, in their shared room with their two individual pillows and sides of the bed and the angel’s arms around Dean, the latter’s head lying on Cas’s shoulder <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Tears flow from his eyes as he holds Castiel tighter <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Just calm down for me, okay?” Dean rubs his shoulder to help him even his breathing <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. Cas turns to Dean, moving his shoulder away from him. “No, no you’re right I did have gifts for you, I’m sorry,” Cas pauses the movie, Dean forgot it was even on. “I’ll be right back.” The hunter huffs and pulls away from Cas slightly, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “It’s just.. I realize that you won’t be able to grow old with me, you’re gonna have to watch me become all crippled and sick while you stay young and fine. My hair will turn grey and fall out while yours will stay soft and brown. You know?” Cas frowns, bringing a hand up to cup his face. “I just.. I don’t want you to feel sad knowing that I’m dying.. that I’m not the same anymore, that I’m different…” he takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t want you to not love me anymore…” Dean hums as he curls up against Cas, resting his forehead against his collar bone. A low light-blue glow illuminates the space between them, and Dean smiles. “Oh, right. Bobby says you did all this? Built my heaven?” Cas nods. “You did good, at least from what I‘ve seen. I’ll make sure to tell you about all the mistakes you made.” He says with a smirk. “Uh-huh.” John gives Sam a confused look, making Sam gulp. “Uh- well, when you guys are.. done, me and da- me and a surprise will be in the library waiting,” They don’t hear the sounds of footsteps running down the halls over the joyous sounds Dean’s making. The hunter plants a small kiss on Castiel’s neck, letting him know that it’s requited. He feels the angel hold him tighter at the action, leaving a kiss on his forehead. He smiles so wide, more tears leaving his eyes as he leaves several happy kisses on Cas’s shoulder before being pulled into a real one, the angel’s hand on the back of his neck bringing him towards him, their lips moving together softly as they hold each other close. Sam laughs a little too loud at Cas’s words, immediately freezing and going quiet when Dean stirs in his sleep and wraps around Cas tighter. Dean ruts his hips forward, pushing Castiel’s hand into his bulge again and moaning sweetly. “Please just fucking fuck me already, Christ,” Suddenly Cas’s lips are on his as he fucks him harder than ever, Dean’s legs wrap around his hips so he has something to squeeze to relieve tension. He claws at the angel’s wings desperately as he feels himself grow closer to the edge, repeating the same words into Cas’s mouth as a tongue is shoved down his throat. “It’s.. It’s really beautiful, Cas. Thank you.” he leans against the side of his car and turns back to Cas. Dean crawls under the sheets, feeling ashamed at the whole situation. He jumps when Cas touches his hand. Once their orgasms have subsided, they lie still, trying to catch their breath, wings falling limp with Cas’s lying on top of Dean’s. Dean laughs with a cough. Moments later, Dean and

<|output|> <|example|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> My hair will turn grey and fall out while yours will stay soft and brown <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> “I just <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “Oh, right <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> Cas come down the hall with goofy smiles on their faces and damp hair. The eldest brother smiles brightly once he sees the plate of rice krispie treats set at the center of the table. Castiel brings his hand to his own with a smile as well. He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. Dean feels hurt edge itself in his chest but it’s quickly - too quickly - getting hidden away by anger. “You could’ve asked me,” he says, trying his best to hide his feelings from Cas. When the tears finally stop and his breathing levels he pulls back. His eyes are red and puffy, his nose completely blocked with snot and he feels ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. They ask a couple more questions and once neither of them has anything left to ask, they head out with the files. “Fuck what I said last time,” he growls, and his hands come up into Cas’ hair and he crashes their lips together. “I need you He doesn’t know how long he’s sat there, curled up, gasping for air, with hot, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks when he suddenly feels a hand land on his shoulder. It’s not gentle and for a brief moment, he thinks it’s Dad. He feels his blood turn to ice as pure terror floods his veins. He tries settling in the library but he doesn’t last long. Because there’s no lore to be found, no books to be read, no hunt to prepare for… so it takes him a pathetically short time to find himself back on his feet, wandering around the bunker aimlessly. It takes Dean a moment to process his words, his mind probably still clouded with sleep. Then his eyes fly wide open and realization settles in them. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He says, his voice rising a little higher. “I didn’t know I was pushing you! Cas, you should’ve stopped me sooner!” He lets out a choked noise and squeezes his eyes shut as tears start welling up in them. He buries his face in the angel’s neck and breathes in the seraph’s comforting fragrance. his body has been, every muscle seemingly ready to fight or flee the moment the conversation had been brought up. How he kept trying not to hunch in on himself the more he talked, like he was expecting Dean to start yelling at any moment. The way he forced himself to keep his head high and his shoulders squared… to you I’m going to try. I’m going to try to talk to you instead of letting myself get lost in anger because I… I can’t lose you,” he admits. The chick-flick, cliché words make him cringe a little, but they’re worth it when he sees the radiant smile that Cas offers in return. Cas looked of his own actions. How the first thing he did was try to make Dean understand, to appease him, and make him see that he knows his actions were wrong. And that… Dean doesn’t

<|output|> <|example|> Cas come down the hall with goofy smiles on their faces and damp hair. The eldest brother smiles brightly once he sees the plate of rice krispie treats set at the center of the table. Castiel brings his hand to his own with a smile as well. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> And that… Dean doesn’t <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> want that for him. Dean doesn’t want to be a source of anxiety for the angel. A couple of episodes later Dean gets up to grab them each a new beer and when he returns he ends up sitting close enough to Cas that their knees are brushing. The angel looks up at him with questioning eyes but doesn’t say anything, just takes the beer from Dean with a small smile and a nod. When he looks back at Dean, the human looks a little baffled. “You don’t know what a panic attack is?” he asks, and of course Dean focuses on the one part that isn’t about him. Sam doesn’t push, he just stays there with him until Dean feels like he can stand up again. “I’m gonna go back to…” he trails off, nodding his head in the general direction of the showers. No, they aren’t moving. And the worst thing is that Cas looks uncomfortable. He looks apprehensive. Like he doesn’t think they’d want to see him. Like they’re going to kick him out immediately. “Good,” Dean nods. “I don’t know if you want me to wash your stuff or not but just throw it somewhere if you’re good.” He shrugs, immediately realizing it’s a stupid offer. The angel His thoughts are screaming in his mind, bouncing around his skull, and he stumbles out of the kitchen, suddenly in a desperate need to get some fresh air. They look into each other’s eyes for a couple of moments. “Have you?” he asks. “Talked about it?” Dean’s face morphs into a pained expression and he looks away. “With anyone?” Cas presses on and feels dread settle in his stomach. ,” he sighs, not in the mood to argue. "Bacon cheeseburger?” He looks up at his brother with a pleading smile. There’s no way in hell Sam could make that in the kitchen so he’d have to go out. And maybe, just maybe Dean can spin that pity in his favor. He sees anger flare up in Sam’s eyes. “I think you’re someone who’s hurt the person they love," Sam growls, voice raising, "and they hate themselves so fucking much they can’t stay put, so they find absolutely He clutches the bin close to his chest as his stomach tries to expel something that is no longer there. He tries to focus on the burning sensation in his throat so he doesn’t have to focus on just how much he feels like crying. He knows Cas didn’t mean it like that, he would never have meant it like that, but Sam’s gradual decreasing of the number of cases he fills Dean on leaves Dean feeling like his brother’s started to think he's lost all skill and would be nothing but a burden if he did tag along. Cas is looking up at him with wide eyes, trying to force his mouth to cooperate and apologize for bruising him last night, but he finds no words - his mind blank. And it’s not like Dean hadn’t tried to cut down on the drinking. He had. He isn’t stupid, he knows it’s getting seriously out of

<|output|> <|example|> want that for him. Dean doesn’t want to be a source of anxiety for the angel. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “I think you’re someone who’s hurt the person they love," Sam growls, voice raising, "and they hate themselves so fucking much they can’t stay put, so they find absolutely He clutches the bin close to his chest as his stomach tries to expel something that is no longer there <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He sees anger flare up in Sam’s eyes <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Like he doesn’t think they’d want to see him <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. He’s suddenly feeling very awake, the reminder of his outburst making his already bad nausea somehow worse. He shifts up and looks around but the room is empty - no sign of Cas spending any time in here while he slept. here and risk getting arrested. Because someone will most definitely realize who he is from just how many times he and Sammy made it to the FBI’s most-wanted list. “I’m great!” He insists. “I- how’d you find me?” he asks, attempting to steer the conversation away from his feelings. They kiss but it isn’t their usual explosive, ‘I want to devour you’ kiss. It’s more of an ‘I haven’t seen you in a month and I’m terrified the moment might shatter at any second’ kind of kiss. They don’t hurry and the pace is honestly A grin spreads on the hunter’s face. “I ain’t cooking this time - you are,” he says, patting his back. “I’m just here to guide you.” “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this for my sake.” His eyes are exploring Dean’s face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. “Yeah, uh… get eggs and milk from the fridge and then flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder,” he says, refocusing his attention back to pouring ground coffee into the filter. A pained chuckle escapes his lips, his eyes dropping down again. “Hell, you know me. You know I don’t know how to deal with someone sacrificing themselves for me. I can sacrifice myself for others without a second thought but when it comes to me…” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You see so much more in me than I’ve ever seen in myself, and hearing you say all that about me paired with losing you just-” his voice breaks and he pauses, trying to regain control of his body. The next time he blinks the tears spill but he doesn’t wipe them away. He can’t be bothered to. “Dean, this isn’t a discussion.” Cas’ voice is a little harder. “You’re obviously running on fumes.” When Dean doesn’t say anything for a couple of moments, he continues. “Dean, your face is absolutely exhausted; you can’t hide that. Your eyes are glazed over and I’ve never seen such dark bags under them.” That infuriates Cas because he expected Sam to be the one person on this planet to be as worried as him about Dean storming off like that. “I’m not!” He calls, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “ “Dean?” a familiar husky voice asks instead. It sounds perplexed, like the speaker doesn't know what to think of the scene before them. “It makes me incredibly happy that you like the shampoo I got for you,” Cas murmurs against his skin after several minutes of silence. “You don’t have to come, if it’s causing you this much

<|output|> <|example|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” His eyes are exploring Dean’s face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He shifts up and looks around but the room is empty - no sign of Cas spending any time in here while he slept <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> ” His eyes are exploring Dean’s face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> They kiss but it isn’t their usual explosive, ‘I want to devour you’ kiss <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> He shifts up and looks around but the room is empty - no sign of Cas spending any time in here while he slept <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> here and risk getting arrested <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> It sounds perplexed, like the speaker doesn't know what to think of the scene before them <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> They don’t hurry and the pace is honestly A grin spreads on the hunter’s face <|indexes|> 7 7 |

<|text|> trouble,” Dean grumbles, turning back to his dresser and taking out a couple of shirts. Either way, it doesn’t fucking matter because Sammy still knows he’s struggling. Dean doubts Sam actually knows just how miserable he is, doubts Sam knows the full extent of his pain, but it’s still enough for him to be putting his life on hold. Dean looks over at Cas with wide eyes to see worry written over his features. The angel’s rapidly trying to figure out what’s happening but it doesn’t seem like he’s got any idea as to where to start. too. That’s just too much. His brain is flooding with so much self-hate he barely catches Sam’s next words. The pancakes don’t take long to finish and he moves the plate to the table. Dean has almost finished the stash he stole just a couple of minutes ago and his cup is topped up with coffee again. He hears the familiar flutter of wings and feels the rush of air that makes the dust on the dirt road rise as Cas lands just a couple of feet from him. Dean looks over at him, the flashlight on his phone - which is pointed at the ground - not doing much to illuminate the angel’s face and it effectively hides most of his expression from Dean. starts playing as Ru prepares to walk down the runway and Dean finds himself just wasted enough to immediately start singing along without a beat of hesitation. He basically screams his way through the song with no shame as Ru walks down the runway and giggles to himself when the drag queen flashes her terrifying smile and laughs her uncanny laugh. Because how the hell can her laugh be that fucking unsettling?! It’s that kind of laugh that makes his hairs on end and it’s just… it’s just creepy, man! He leans down and brushes his lips against Cas’ but, much to Cas’ frustration, they don’t connect. Instead, he kisses the corner of his mouth, down his jaw, until his lips find his pulse point. Cas chuckles and turns away, his hands coming to rest on Dean’s hips. “Hello, Dean," he says in a low, gravelly voice and Dean lets out a growl, his lips finding Cas’ again. That must have been the intention because he hears Cas let out a satisfied hum. Dean opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He feels the beer slip out of his hand and then he’s hugging the angel so tightly that if he was human he’d be worried about hurting him. He hears the bags land on the floor with a soft thud and then there are strong arms wrapping around him. “The ones we determined to be killed by animals.” The sheriff raises a skeptical eyebrow, watching the two of them carefully. His eyes settle on Dean, and they bear into him with such intensity the man might as well have been trying to see his soul. Dean tries to say something but his mouth is too full and it comes out as muffled nonsense. Cas’ other eyebrow joins

<|output|> <|example|> trouble,” Dean grumbles, turning back to his dresser and taking out a couple of shirts. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Dean tries to say something but his mouth is too full and it comes out as muffled nonsense <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> The angel’s rapidly trying to figure out what’s happening but it doesn’t seem like he’s got any idea as to where to start <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Dean tries to say something but his mouth is too full and it comes out as muffled nonsense <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ” The sheriff raises a skeptical eyebrow, watching the two of them carefully <|indexes|> 3 3 |

<|text|> the already raised one and he looks at the hunter in disbelief. “I am in love with a child,” he mutters quietly to himself, shaking his head. He brushes his lips against Cas’ again, trying desperately to get the angel to do what he can’t bring himself to do. Cas gasps in response, the hands clutching onto Dean's shirt shaking violently. But then the voices start growing in volume again and his emotions redouble their efforts in trying to pull him under the surface, and he brings the bottle up to his lips again. The second sip doesn’t offer that same sort of relief; it never does. The feeling’s still there, just dulled a little and the more he drinks, the lesser the relief becomes. It shrinks and shrinks until it reaches zero and for a brief moment he feels nothing as he drinks. But then the alcohol finally starts kicking in and with it comes up his mood and then Cas is doing his best to try and focus on what Dean’s saying but his mind got stuck on how hungrily Dean was looking at him just moments ago. He parks relatively easily and kills the engine. He throws Cas a smile before reaching for the door when the angel suddenly stops him. “Dean, wait.” Dean’s hand freezes on the handle and he turns to face Cas with a puzzled look. He doesn’t think he has ever felt this many emotions at the same time and it’s just kind of starting to make him feel numb as his mind struggles to comprehend it. “Would you prefer I go ‘all-American’,” he uses his fingers to make air quotes, “and call it sex or fucking?” “Yeah?” Cas asks, placing one hand on the bed so he can lean in a bit. There’s a feral smile spreading on his lips and Dean feels his heart skip a beat before it rapidly picks up in his chest. Cas has a heated look in his eyes and he holds eye contact for a moment before his gaze drops down to Dean’s lips. It lingers there and then rises up to meet his eyes again, “Why do I not believe that?” Cas asks, his voice a little rough and Dean licks his lips, suddenly realizing how dry they are. He hates that a small part of him is whispering he should let go—that they never hug for this long, that he’s making it awkward—but he can’t bring himself to. He feels Cas’ face shift against his shoulder, the Seraph burying deeper into Dean’s neck. Dean can now feel part of Cas’ face on his bare skin and it’s setting that area on fire. He hears the angel take a deep breath in and then exhale, the warm air sending a shiver down Dean’s body and right down to his dick. His heart is racing in his chest and he tries his best to push the image of Cas' lips on his skin out of his mind, but it’s a piss-poor attempt. Dean takes in a wheezy breath. “Peachy.” He coughs a couple more times. “You can’t fucking

<|output|> <|example|> the already raised one and he looks at the hunter in disbelief. “I am in love with a child,” he mutters quietly to himself, shaking his head. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> It shrinks and shrinks until it reaches zero and for a brief moment he feels nothing as he drinks <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He hears the angel take a deep breath in and then exhale, the warm air sending a shiver down Dean’s body and right down to his dick <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He throws Cas a smile before reaching for the door when the angel suddenly stops him <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> say shit like that!” He exclaims, looking at Cas with wide eyes. “I—I’m fine," he stumbles over his words, struggling to form a coherent thought. His eyes drop down to the angel’s full lips and he has to force them back up. Dean swallows hard but doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know. He has no idea what he’s doing, all he knows is that it feels right. It feels like something he should have done ages ago. Cas hums. “Sounds like a good idea,” he agrees. “We won’t have to make the popcorn on the stove anymore.” They stop at a diner near the motel for breakfast before making their way out of the city. Dean knows that his mixtapes aren’t on the top of Cas’ go-to music - even if he’s never voiced that opinion - so he decides to let him surf the radio stations until he finds something he likes, even despite his rule that only the driver gets to pick the music. The driver picks the music unless it’s Cas sitting next to him and Dean letting him pick something Cas nods, his eyes understanding. “I’m going to meet you wherever you are,” he says and, God, Dean does not deserve him. A smile tugs at the corner of Dean’s lips and he lets it. When Castiel doesn’t respond he continues. “Sam said that at the first sight of a ‘crack’ or ‘bump’ in a relationship I burn the entire bridge in fear of getting hurt,” he decides to say. “And that’s- that’s a hundred percent true. You suggested therapy, which is something Sam has been nagging me about for fucking years now, and I…” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. wrong time to ‘drop the bomb’ as Dean likes to say because the hunter freezes and pulls back so he could stare down at him with wide, shocked eyes. The pancakes taste like ash and stick to his mouth so he has to help them down with the beer. Maybe they would taste better were they heated up but he just can’t be bothered to mess around with a pan. “Cas?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but he knows the angel and his stupid celestial hearing heard him. He stares at his best friend with wide eyes, his mind not being able to process the sight before him. They sit in silence for some time and it’s so fucking awkward Dean ends up getting up to go brush his teeth. ” he states in a voice that insinuates he’s pinching the bridge of his nose - a gesture usually reserved for Dean’s actions. He hears his brother sigh, seemingly defeated. “Where are we going?” He asks after a couple of minutes of silence. “Dean’s been,” he pauses, eyebrows raising in pure shock, “ogling…?” he says the word uncertainly, like it might somehow turn false if he speaks it. He opens the door and walks in, trying to get a grip on the quite frankly ridiculous amount of insecurity that disaster of an interview ignited in him, but he finds it to be practically impossible - much unlike

<|output|> <|example|> say shit like that!” He exclaims, looking at Cas with wide eyes. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” he states in a voice that insinuates he’s pinching the bridge of his nose - a gesture usually reserved for Dean’s actions <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> trying to get a grip on molten iron with his bare hands. So Cas doesn’t feel relieved. Because he’s aware that his sacrifice is the cause behind Dean’s change of lifestyle. and completely inexperienced in dealing with the supernatural - she would have gotten killed either on the spot or they would have come for her later on. he almost considers giving in but he… he can’t give up. He can’t crumble. Not now. Not when he’s gotten this far. He Dean’s breathing has slowed down a little and he nods mutely. Tears are still running down his cheeks but they aren’t as heavy anymore. “Can I hug you?” Cas asks and Dean nods, not trusting his voice. The angel scoots closer and tentatively wraps his arms around him. Dean buries his face in the angel’s neck and takes a deep shaky breath. He closes his eyes and his hands come to Cas’ back, clutching onto his shirt as another sob racks through his body. Cas looks around and lowers his voice - for Dean’s sake. “He thinks it’s unhealthy that we got back together, in his opinion, so soon after your…” his voice trails off, finding himself unable to say it. “The reason I don’t wanna go is because… because what if I find out I’m broken beyond repair?” He hates how his voice wavers or how the tears are now welling up in his eyes against his will. He finally musters up the courage to look back at Castiel and sees that the angel’s features have softened significantly - his demeanor now more resembling Cas. He and Cas had been engaging in some rather awkward small talk but they managed to transition it into a laid-back conversation. The angel’s worry held onto his mind a little longer but even he ended up relaxing and by the time Dean finished eating they were both laughing with relative ease. “On a different note; we were wondering if you two wanted to join us for dinner,” Sam says, changing the topic. He’s filling up all of Cas’ senses to the brink and yet the angel finds himself craving more. Their bodies are pressed up against each other and yet Dean feels too far away. Cas needs to be closer to him, he needs to feel more of him or even fill him - or be the one filled - because then he’d possibly be able to satiate this hunger. Maybe if they came together as one, he’d be able to ease this borderline overwhelming feeling that he’s never close enough to Dean. He’s drinking in the sight before him like he’s seeing the angel for the first time, but it’s not right. It’s not at all like the reunion Dean had imagined. They aren’t grinning and pulling each other into a hug. Dean isn’t telling Cas he’s a dumbass for thinking he could never have him. I personally don't have any experience with PTSD flashbacks and could only write it according to how I researched it. If you have any experience and feel like I portrayed it wrong, please let me know. I have

<|output|> <|example|> trying to get a grip on molten iron with his bare hands. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> I personally don't have any experience with PTSD flashbacks and could only write it according to how I researched it <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> I personally don't have any experience with PTSD flashbacks and could only write it according to how I researched it <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Their bodies are pressed up against each other and yet Dean feels too far away <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> however experienced a panic attack or two in the past, so it hopefully shouldn't be too far off. That he sees his anger and he sees his pain and fear and scars and he’s still here. That he’s seen Dean at his lowest and he’s seen him at his highest and he hasn’t run. That he’s planted himself firmly by his side, offering precisely what he needs and when he needs it, and Dean feels like he should be grateful for it - Cas’ eyes snap over to him in surprise, only to see a hard and steely look in the hunter’s eyes. “So I’m going to go out to cool down and we can talk about this when I don’t feel like yelling and attacking.” His arms hold the angel tight, terrified that if he loosens his grip he will disappear. He knows he’s clinging onto Cas like a drowning man clings to a lifeboat but he doesn’t care. Because Cas is here and he’s never letting go. He can’t. He’s not thinking when he reaches for Cas’ belt and starts undoing it with shaking hands, but he’s glad to find that the angel doesn’t shy away. He sighs tiredly and gets up, not seeing the point of lying here any longer if he isn’t going to actually sleep. “I should have come see you right away, I know that now, I just-” he cuts himself off, hating the tears that are stinging his eyes. He knows Dean isn’t going to take that information well and he has “Okay,” Dean nods. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he says, squeezing Cas’ hand. “And if… if you want to and feel like it, I could cuddle you and show you just how much you mean to me,” he says softly, feeling his cheeks get brushed a faint pink at the chick-flick suggestion. The kiss is building up in intensity, and Cas is letting out these small, impossibly hot sounds into it, and Cas hasn’t been to many large stores but he can safely say he is not a fan. He doesn’t like the way the essentials are always placed into the deepest part of the building, forcing you to walk through aisles and aisles of other items. Items that are all presented in a way that would catch your eye and prompt you to grab them. The grumpy demand has Dean pulling back so he can look down at his horny boyfriend with a grin. It’s a side of Cas he has never seen before, and it is equal parts adorable and hilarious. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not Sam,” he says with a wink and slides into the seat so he can scoot over to the passenger side. He smiles up at Cas brightly and closes the door the angel opened. A moment later the seraph joins him in the front seat. ” Cas’ frown deepens, his eyes absolutely baffled. He looks down at Dean’s sock-covered feet before looking back up at him. He peels his eyes open to see Sam hovering over him. His hair is

<|output|> <|example|> however experienced a panic attack or two in the past, so it hopefully shouldn't be too far off. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He knows he’s clinging onto Cas like a drowning man clings to a lifeboat but he doesn’t care <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Items that are all presented in a way that would catch your eye and prompt you to grab them <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> It’s a side of Cas he has never seen before, and it is equal parts adorable and hilarious <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “So I’m going to go out to cool down and we can talk about this when I don’t feel like yelling and attacking <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He’s not thinking when he reaches for Cas’ belt and starts undoing it with shaking hands, but he’s glad to find that the angel doesn’t shy away <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> He peels his eyes open to see Sam hovering over him <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> “Oh, yeah?” he asks, trying not to laugh <|indexes|> 6 <|example|> His hair is <|indexes|> 7 7 |

<|text|> a mess, his eyes are blown wide, terror etched deep into his features. The angel sighs and Dean knows he’s going to do something when he starts approaching the bed. He wonders if he’ll pick him up or drag him off or maybe push him off but instead of doing any of those, Cas stops by the edge of the bed and bends down. Dean looks at him in confusion before he feels one side of the bed lifting and he suddenly he’s hit with a wave of panic as he realizes what the angel’s doing. “Right,” Cas says. “And, uhm, how do I get rid of," he glances back down, pausing for a moment, “that?” he asks and Dean has to restrain himself from just outright laughing. He doesn’t know why he thought that Cas would think of googling that as well. Of course, he wouldn’t. seen it and is deciding to ignore Cas, not deeming the angel worth his attention? Or maybe he hasn’t and he’s possibly in danger? Cas’ hand rests gently on his shoulder, slowly helping him into his room. The angel is patient, stopping whenever he sees that Dean is getting too dizzy, and he doesn’t hurry him along. And for a moment Dean can forget that apprehensiveness in his eyes. The worry etched into his features he can’t quite figure out. It’s just Cas as he knows him: caring and gentle, and Dean feels himself relax a little. He shakes his head. “I watched it with Jack once. Both of the movies actually.” He smiles at the memory, a wistful feeling settling in his chest. “He was a big fan of it.” “Yeah! I didn’t know back then. I only realized when you came back from the dead after Lucifer killed you and Dean went from borderline suicidal to absolutely ecstatic like that.” He snaps his fingers, laughing softly. “So yeah, man, he’s been in love with you for fucking years.” He looks over at Cas, his expression turning serious. “Do you know how fucking annoying it has been to third wheel you guys?!” He shakes his head, a grin spreading on his lips again. “You look at each other like you wanna rip each other’s clothes off “Great, let’s never do that again,” he grumbles and steps away from Cas, not wanting to impose himself into his personal space. A couple of minutes later the angel flips the pancakes and looks over to see Dean beaming next to him. He continues making more and once the ones he’s already made have cooled off a little bit, Dean tears a piece off and pops it into his mouth. His eyes land on the sofa by his bed and he feels his heart sink when he spots the shirt, sweatpants, and jacket he lent Cas laying there. Dean knows he needs to reply but his jaw is still on the floor and his mind is practically short-circuiting and in the end, all he manages to do is breathe out a barely audible, “Hey.” It’s an invitation for Cas to leave, but Dean doesn’t hear the familiar flutter of

<|output|> <|example|> a mess, his eyes are blown wide, terror etched deep into his features. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He doesn’t know why he thought that Cas would think of googling that as well <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Both of the movies actually <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> It’s just Cas as he knows him: caring and gentle, and Dean feels himself relax a little <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> ” He snaps his fingers, laughing softly <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> The angel is patient, stopping whenever he sees that Dean is getting too dizzy, and he doesn’t hurry him along <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> wings or feel the rush of air. Instead, there’s a moment of silence and he’s starting to think maybe Cas has walked away. But then he sees the edge of his trench coat enter his field of vision. He doesn’t look up, the shame and guilt not letting him, but he watches Cas’ feet as they move towards him tentatively and then he feels the angel’s arms wrap around him gently. Dean looks up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp making them appear more brown than green. He has a lazy smile spread on his lips - which are parted and just inviting Cas to kiss them. Cas doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes looking away from Dean’s beautiful face. “Us angels, we… we don’t have a natural body fragrance like humans do, so whenever we’re around someone our grace generates that for us. It can sense what kind of smell the person enjoys the most and is able to replicate it.” His eyebrows knit together. “I think it is so that we don’t appear as intimidating when we’re actually trying to aid humans.” He looks back down to see Dean’s eyes watching him intently. is worse than torture. This means that Cas is still making up his mind. That he hasn’t yet decided if he wants to commit to this. But then Cas’ lips start moving slowly and Dean lets out the breath he has forgotten he was holding. He feels Cas’ hand move from his cheek to his neck, and whether that is to steady him or hold him in place, Dean doesn’t know. “Dean, if we’re going to do that again, we’ll never actually go out,” he says and Dean rolls his eyes, knowing Cas’ right. “Let’s go sit down at the table, okay?” Sammy says, his eyes panicked but his tone soothing, and Dean nods. He leads them to the table and Dean practically collapses into the seat. “Dean,” his baby brother speaks again, bringing his attention back to him, “I need you to try and breathe with me, okay? Can you do that?” he asks and Dean only manages a nod. Before he really knows what he’s doing, his hands are fumbling with the tie and tossing it aside. He pushes the angel’s blazer off his shoulders, taking the trench coat with it. Cas’ hands drop from his body momentarily and the moment the two layers are off, they’re gripping onto him again. The angel seems to notice his thoughts. “Sam said he and Eileen are going to be gone for at least two hours," he says in a gentle voice. The words are simple. They’re suggestive but they also don’t push, leaving it up to Dean to make a move if he wants to. He’s watching Dean as he reads the back of a box of some microwave. It’s the third one he’s picked up and Cas honestly has no idea how on earth they might differ. After all, it's just a small box that heats up your food through some weird magic. Cas rolls his eyes and refocuses

<|output|> <|example|> wings or feel the rush of air. Instead, there’s a moment of silence and he’s starting to think maybe Cas has walked away. But then he sees the edge of his trench coat enter his field of vision. He doesn’t look up, the shame and guilt not letting him, but he watches Cas’ feet as they move towards him tentatively and then he feels the angel’s arms wrap around him gently. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> This means that Cas is still making up his mind <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> wings or feel the rush of air <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “Dean,” his baby brother speaks again, bringing his attention back to him, “I need you to try and breathe with me, okay? Can you do that?” he asks and Dean only manages a nod <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> But then Cas’ lips start moving slowly and Dean lets out the breath he has forgotten he was holding <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> “I think it is so that we don’t appear as intimidating when we’re actually trying to aid humans <|indexes|> 4 |

<|text|> his attention on the pancakes, making sure they don’t burn. He takes a sip of the coffee Dean brought him and has to fight off a cringe. The taste is very overwhelming as the individual molecules don’t come together into something he can enjoy. Yet he endures and takes another small sip of the hot bean liquid. “Hey,” Cas says gently, bringing Dean’s attention back to him, “it’s okay. I said we’ll go at your pace, and if that means rapidly stopping every time, then we’ll rapidly stop every time.” He offers a reassuring smile and Dean nods hesitantly. He’s trying to hide his hyperventilation the best he can, but it kind of just results in him not breathing at all. He lies back down on the bed, joining the angel, and wraps his arms around him protectively. Cas nuzzles his face in his neck, his warm breath tickling his still flushed skin, and the hunter uses his free hand to cover them both up. Cas smells absolutely amazing. He smells like a forest after a storm. He smells of wet wood, moss, and flowers. He smells like wet dirt and ozone and Dean has to fight off the urge to bury his face in his neck and just get lost in the sensation. He pushes the door open to one of the locker style showers scattered across the bunker only to find it empty. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed, he knew Cas wouldn’t be there yet. The dude can’t fly anymore. He even agreed on having dinner together once a week—a place where they could catch up and share what they have found. But those first couple of weeks were like the honeymoon phase in a relationship. It only took a month for the kid to stop coming to dinner as often. He’d still show up, but it would only be to tell them that he has found nothing and that he had to go back. It didn’t take long after that for the weekly visits to turn biweekly. Now Dean is pulling open the door to the driver's seat of his baby, his mind definitely a little cloudy with alcohol. A realization that he should probably not be driving washes over him and he looks up at Cas at the other end of the car. He’s just opened the passenger door and is about to sit down. “Cas!” he calls and the angel’s eyes snap up to him. He tosses him the keys over the roof and Cas is so surprised he almost doesn’t catch them. “You drive,” he says. . “What about this one?” He turns back to Dean, who’s hugging the microwave box to his chest. He looks back down at the packet. “It’s dark roast and apparently tastes like chocolate, caramel, and maple.” Dean turns the key in the ignition, killing the engine. He has parked the car several miles away from the cabin despite there being a dirt road leading up to it. They’ve agreed to go the rest of the way on foot - lowering their chances of being noticed by the

<|output|> <|example|> his attention on the pancakes, making sure they don’t burn. He takes a sip of the coffee Dean brought him and has to fight off a cringe. The taste is very overwhelming as the individual molecules don’t come together into something he can enjoy. Yet he endures and takes another small sip of the hot bean liquid. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Cas smells absolutely amazing <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> ” Dean turns the key in the ignition, killing the engine <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “It’s dark roast and apparently tastes like chocolate, caramel, and maple <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “You drive,” he says <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> occupants of the cabin. It’s nowhere near zero - werewolves have too good a sense of smell and hearing for them to completely have the element of surprise - but it’s at least something. calling it that!” he calls and Dean looks up to see him shaking his head but there’s a fond smile on his face, taking the heat out of his words. “ want to hear that. “From what he’s told me, your drinking habits are bordering on addiction, and I’d hate for you to-” He starts one of the seasons he’s already seen, knowing his brain is way too sleep-deprived to actually comprehend any new information and he settles on the large sectional. He wraps himself in a blanket and slides down so he’s half sitting and half lying down, cradling the pot of coffee to his chest. He’s turned the lights off and he focuses his drifting attention on the marginally insignificant drama in the lives of these people. He doesn’t get hung up on the thought too much and soon finds himself pacing the room nervously. He doesn’t know whether to take off his clothes or wait for Cas or if he should just stop thinking about it and get into the fucking shower. “Just past six. I was heading to the kitchen to make coffee when I found you passed out on the floor.” “-so it would just upset your stomach. Plus a big reason why you feel like shit is because your liver converts the alcohol in your blood into a highly toxic byproduct.” especially should know that he’s reckless enough to go on a hunt on his own to ‘blow off some steam’.” He makes kind of aggressive air quotes, his voice tipping into anger. A frown pulls his eyebrows together and his eyes dart around a little like he’s calculating something. But then his expression clears of all shock, and he huffs out a breathless laugh. “Explains why I’m actually rested for a change,” he says, a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes tugging at his lips. His heart is beating up in his ears, his stomach threatening to expel the water and painkillers he took. Dean opens his mouth again - which has turned uncomfortably dry - to try and say something. Anything. “You know about us?” Is what falls out of his mouth, voice small. Dean frowns in confusion and slowly sits up as well. “What are you talking about, man?” he asks. “When have you hurt me?” So, he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t show Cas in any way that he has heard him, just advances towards their room, hoping he’ll manage to smother his feelings before he does something he’ll regret. Dean nods into his neck. “Always.” He can’t lose him. Not again. “And I…” he pauses, looking for words. He pulls back just enough so he can look Cas in the eyes, “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you or whatever,” he says, his hand moving to cup Cas’ cheek, the angel leaning into the touch. “I do. More than I thought was humanly possible, I

<|output|> <|example|> occupants of the cabin. It’s nowhere near zero - werewolves have too good a sense of smell and hearing for them to completely have the element of surprise - but it’s at least something. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” He can’t lose him <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> A frown pulls his eyebrows together and his eyes dart around a little like he’s calculating something <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> calling it that!” he calls and Dean looks up to see him shaking his head but there’s a fond smile on his face, taking the heat out of his words <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Anything <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He doesn’t know whether to take off his clothes or wait for Cas or if he should just stop thinking about it and get into the fucking shower <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> ” “-so it would just upset your stomach <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> just… I don’t think we can do this publicly any time soon,” Fucking hell, he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and everything’s beginning to spin. Sam nods and offers a reassuring smile. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he says and Dean really appreciates it. He doesn’t say so, he just nods and leaves the room.

<|output|> <|example|> just… I don’t think we can do this publicly any time soon,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He can’t breathe <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> Frustratingly, Dean isn’t comfortable around people, loves his solitude, but is somehow still a little weary of his isolation. He’s lonely, Sam says. Dean shoots him a hard look and an eye roll because Sam has always succeeded at making their lives sound like some sort of Hallmark movie. Dean’s killed Death, he’s not going to admit to something as simple and girly as being lonely and sad. As usual, Sam is right but Dean has zero intention of owning up to that. He can admit it to himself, though, in the safety of his own mind. Dean is lonely. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Dean wonders. He gulps before moving forward, placing his lips around Cas nervously. The angel makes a sharp sound from the contact, the wet warmth surrounding him. Enough to drive even a holy Angel of God crazy. Dean sinks further, as best he can without gagging, his practice from years ago really paying, and Castiel moans Dean’s name in response. One hand rests on the brick wall and the other in Dean’s hair, tugging on it often. Every pull brings the hunter to make a sound and the vibrations nearly send the angel over the edge with each hum. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> himself from crying. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Young Punk Dean follows the mysterious Castiel back to his place and is pretty surprised by what he learns there. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> of his former self. Like Dean should be <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I- I’m good. My grace cleans the suit so I don’t need any other clothes.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s obvious he wants to ask about what happened but Dean is immensely glad he doesn’t. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> John grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking him up. “You failed your Mother,” he sends a kick to his gut. “You failed me,” Another kick. “You failed Sammy,” Kick. “And you even failed your little angel boyfriend,” The last kick is sent right to his ribs, knocking the air out of him. The boy heaves on the ground, shuddering as blood drips from his mouth. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 | <|example|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> dash, making Dean frown, and nods. “I guess. That’s a long drive, though.” Dean rummages through his bag and pulls out a cassette tape, making Sam frown. “Really? Out of all the vital items you could’ve taken, you decided on a cassette tape.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair. He lets out a hum before getting up, holding Cas’s hand as he does so. “We need to get those beers before we’re suspected of anything.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sloppy kisses and love bites along his neck making Dean hum softly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Frustratingly, Dean isn’t comfortable around people, loves his solitude, but is somehow still a little weary of his isolation. He’s lonely, Sam says. Dean shoots him a hard look and an eye roll because Sam has always succeeded at making their lives sound like some sort of Hallmark movie. Dean’s killed Death, he’s not going to admit to something as simple and girly as being lonely and sad. As usual, Sam is right but Dean has zero intention of owning up to that. He can admit it to himself, though, in the safety of his own mind. Dean is lonely. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Dean wonders. He gulps before moving forward, placing his lips around Cas nervously. The angel makes a sharp sound from the contact, the wet warmth surrounding him. Enough to drive even a holy Angel of God crazy. Dean sinks further, as best he can without gagging, his practice from years ago really paying, and Castiel moans Dean’s name in response. One hand rests on the brick wall and the other in Dean’s hair, tugging on it often. Every pull brings the hunter to make a sound and the vibrations nearly send the angel over the edge with each hum. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “I- I’m good. My grace cleans the suit so I don’t need any other clothes.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s obvious he wants to ask about what happened but Dean is immensely glad he doesn’t. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> He can admit it to himself, though, in the safety of his own mind <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> dash, making Dean frown, and nods. “I guess. That’s a long drive, though.” Dean rummages through his bag and pulls out a cassette tape, making Sam frown. “Really? Out of all the vital items you could’ve taken, you decided on a cassette tape.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in the calming feeling of Cas’s fingers playing with his hair. He lets out a hum before getting up, holding Cas’s hand as he does so. “We need to get those beers before we’re suspected of anything.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sloppy kisses and love bites along his neck making Dean hum softly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> eyes bruised and face puffy from lack of sleep. His fingers feel raw and swelled, <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> his eyebrows raised. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he’s okay. And he finds that every day he struggles with finding that reason just a tiny bit more. But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> heaven, Ellen, Ash, Jo who asked Dean “You couldn’t haven’t made it a little later?”, along everybody else they’ve lost. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sloppy kisses and love bites along his neck making Dean hum softly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> eyes bruised and face puffy from lack of sleep. His fingers feel raw and swelled, <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> his eyebrows raised. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he’s okay. And he finds that every day he struggles with finding that reason just a tiny bit more. But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sees Dean for the poor attempt at a functioning human being that he is, and moves on? <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> him and feels worry lines form on his forehead. “Oh- Dean, please don’t cry I’m sorry..” he wipes away Dean’s tears with his thumb, then wrapping him in his arms and holding him close. He feels the hunter shake against him, struggling to keep down his sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks and Dean looks over his shoulder to see Cas looking confused. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and Dean watches as Cas’ brain finally catches up, his body tensing, “Because of my time in the Empty,” he breathes out. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he’s okay <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> his eyebrows raised. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he’s okay. And he finds that every day he struggles with finding that reason just a tiny bit more. But no matter how long it takes him, he always finds it in the end. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sees Dean for the poor attempt at a functioning human being that he is, and moves on? <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he recognizes Cas and Sam at the door. Cas watches as his relaxed smile turns large and goofy. “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> gently prying his fingers away from his arms. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pull him under the surface and deep into the darkness until his lungs threaten to collapse and he inhales the blackness and lets it consume him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> that hits their bodies is freezing cold - making them both yelp in surprise - but it’s quickly warming up to a comfortable level. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sees Dean for the poor attempt at a functioning human being that he is, and moves on? <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he recognizes Cas and Sam at the door. Cas watches as his relaxed smile turns large and goofy. “Cas!” The hunter beams, moving to get off the barstool, stumbling in the process. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> gently prying his fingers away from his arms. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pull him under the surface and deep into the darkness until his lungs threaten to collapse and he inhales the blackness and lets it consume him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> idea what that was at the time.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> pancakes you left me were…” his voice trails off as he notices Cas entering the bunker, his hands full. Dean feels his eyes grow wide as his entire body freezes - his mind completely malfunctioning. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> Cas watches as his relaxed smile turns large and goofy <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> gently prying his fingers away from his arms. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> pull him under the surface and deep into the darkness until his lungs threaten to collapse and he inhales the blackness and lets it consume him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> idea what that was at the time.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> mattered to him was that he was sitting beside Cas on their shared bed, in their shared room with their two individual pillows and sides of the bed and the angel’s arms around Dean, the latter’s head lying on Cas’s shoulder. The hunter hums before turning to his lover. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Cas come down the hall with goofy smiles on their faces and damp hair. The eldest brother smiles brightly once he sees the plate of rice krispie treats set at the center of the table. Castiel brings his hand to his own with a smile as well. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> want that for him. Dean doesn’t want to be a source of anxiety for the angel. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> try?” he repeats Cas’ question, not able to meet his eyes. He mulls it over a little bit, looking for a way to start, “Because,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> idea what that was at the time.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> mattered to him was that he was sitting beside Cas on their shared bed, in their shared room with their two individual pillows and sides of the bed and the angel’s arms around Dean, the latter’s head lying on Cas’s shoulder. The hunter hums before turning to his lover. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Cas come down the hall with goofy smiles on their faces and damp hair. The eldest brother smiles brightly once he sees the plate of rice krispie treats set at the center of the table. Castiel brings his hand to his own with a smile as well. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> want that for him. Dean doesn’t want to be a source of anxiety for the angel. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> the position didn’t tie me to Heaven, as his angels are free to roam around. And while there are a couple of rules to this, like not starting unnecessary fights, for example, we are otherwise given free will. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sam gives him a sad yet pissed look. “You think I don’t care that he’s dead? He was my friend too, Dean.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Cas come down the hall with goofy smiles on their faces and damp hair. The eldest brother smiles brightly once he sees the plate of rice krispie treats set at the center of the table. Castiel brings his hand to his own with a smile as well. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> want that for him. Dean doesn’t want to be a source of anxiety for the angel. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> trouble,” Dean grumbles, turning back to his dresser and taking out a couple of shirts. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the already raised one and he looks at the hunter in disbelief. “I am in love with a child,” he mutters quietly to himself, shaking his head. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> say shit like that!” He exclaims, looking at Cas with wide eyes. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> in front of Dean, and the hunter feels his heart drop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He has already switched the lighting to the small bedside lamp and despite the soft yellow light, he finds himself slowly drifting off <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> trouble,” Dean grumbles, turning back to his dresser and taking out a couple of shirts. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the already raised one and he looks at the hunter in disbelief. “I am in love with a child,” he mutters quietly to himself, shaking his head. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> say shit like that!” He exclaims, looking at Cas with wide eyes. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> trying to get a grip on molten iron with his bare hands. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> however experienced a panic attack or two in the past, so it hopefully shouldn't be too far off. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> a mess, his eyes are blown wide, terror etched deep into his features. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> wings or feel the rush of air. Instead, there’s a moment of silence and he’s starting to think maybe Cas has walked away. But then he sees the edge of his trench coat enter his field of vision. He doesn’t look up, the shame and guilt not letting him, but he watches Cas’ feet as they move towards him tentatively and then he feels the angel’s arms wrap around him gently. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> his attention on the pancakes, making sure they don’t burn. He takes a sip of the coffee Dean brought him and has to fight off a cringe. The taste is very overwhelming as the individual molecules don’t come together into something he can enjoy. Yet he endures and takes another small sip of the hot bean liquid. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> occupants of the cabin. It’s nowhere near zero - werewolves have too good a sense of smell and hearing for them to completely have the element of surprise - but it’s at least something. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> hand. But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him. It pulls him under, deep into the darkness, making the nightmares more vivid, the panic attacks more frequent and the voice in his head louder, and then he’s back at square one. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> But whenever he tries to sober up, the tidal wave comes crashing down on him <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> Tony waits until the gym clears out. He knows Steve stays behind without a miss to clean up after them. “You too,” Steve says, voice still raw, cracking at its end, but his striking blue eyes are fierce on Tony, even as if they shed a lone tear. “What’s going on?” He asks, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore. He’d done it for the last two weeks and he’s tired. “Tony.” He presses when no response comes. But what terrifies him the most is the realisation that after everything he’d lost, he may have still not paid the full price yet. That there still maybe some more debt written under his name. The press finds out about Tony’s little ‘vacation’, as they print it. Stark Industries experiences a fall more drastic that it had when NYT printed about Tony’s overdose. She fixes him with a stare. “I’m calling you whatever you are for putting yourself so far down below the psychopaths, that you’ve convinced yourself you deserved to be abused.” “What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush. Methodically, ordering Steve to follow his example, as he pulls one large hand to palm his own chest and he goes through the count over and over until Steve’s shudders and his breathing eases down. She doesn’t try to hide the surprise in her eyes. Merely embraces it, recollects herself and gives a nod to proceed. “That,” Tony leans back, taking in the list for the umpteenth time. “I’m still trying to figure out.” they go. The only give of her turbulent feelings her body could reveal to someone who had known her for ages; Tony. It'll tackle the whole 'abuse' notion from his perspective as well as some awkward first dates between himself and tony If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward. “Like I said, your highness. Breaking expectations are my expertise.” Then because, bitterness is his latest style, he smirks. “Disappointed already?” Then the crowd applauds, and it’s surreal; Bucky could smell hydrangea and roses, make out tulips and lilies as he scoops his husband up in his arms. It’s 2013 with the night lights on and the full moon out. Tony crawled out of his workshop because he needed coffee but he found solace in bonding with Steve Rogers instead. Rhodey chews on his cronut thoughtfully and makes a face. He switches the cronut with a strawberry sprinkled donut and asks, “Does he know?” “I have a fucked-up brain, or a brain that’s been fucked with a large number of times – depending on where you’re looking from. She’s upset all the time and I don’t think it’s helping her with her control over her power. I can feel it -,” Steve is intent, but Tony knows that behind that careful blankness is fear, if they

<|output|> <|example|> Tony waits until the gym clears out. He knows Steve stays behind without a miss to clean up after them. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> She fixes him with a stare <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “Tony <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> were going to disappoint Wanda this time around too. He feels good, relieved but at the same time, he’s scared. There is an unexplainable fear lurking within him waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it will drop, he knows. She’s pretty tonight. All dolled up like she’s heading somewhere fancier than have takeout for dinner at Tony’s penthouse. One day, he’ll be on the side where that window is, and Steve will lean and Tony will hold him without feeling as awkward as they do now. “I hope you don’t take this as an excuse to leave the team, Mr Stark. If there’s anything I’ve learnt from this talk, it’s that you’re incredibly inclined to assume the Outside the cricket sings, it rained earlier, so the frogs croak in harmony to them. The temperature has been fluctuating from winter cold to deceptive summer heat on some days. He’s bright and happy, and he’s everything Bucky wants and is going to have even though he’s one hundred percent sure he doesn’t deserve. “Try again.” She snorts, scraping the chair away from the table with her weight, already standing up with her empty plate and drinking mug in each hand. By the time he finishes, he’s breathless and he’s spent two whole hours in her office without her saying a single word during the timespan at all. The first night in the tower after the entire team moved in, Tony walked into the kitchen looking for coffee, but found the ex-assassin slash Spy instead. “What?” he blurts out, brown eyes blinking wide in surprise. Steve's own chest is blooming hopes like daisies in spring. . He clicks on the latest one and it’s a clipped paragraph demanding him to consider a proposition. He clicks on the attached folder and it’s the Hellicarrier’s engineering plan with its flight system replaced by what looks like a resized repulsor tech. Tony stares at it for a minute before exiting. “You cut off all the connections, Tony. You disappeared. Even if you were in Cali, you wiped yourself off, in more ways than only physical. I cannot speak to you because you weren’t listening. It was hard.” He waits with bated breath, what only takes a few seconds feels like decades as he stands, rocking on the balls of his feet, sweat sticking to his skin, his breathing picks up again, his heart never really stopped sprinting – Two months later, they’re what Tony begrudgingly (and Steve, with fond exasperation) admits are friends and that’s that. “Think if I buy all the stock and resell them to new, better idiots – Is that possible? Can I do that?” Tony muses aloud. “Tony,” Steve sighs, sounding closer than before and when he looks up, he’s right; Steve is closer, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed now - Didn’t even hear him move, which is a surprise, so Tony looks at the bed frame, wondering what material it’s made of. Barnes eyes hollow his movements, even as his own fingers are busy with something else; pressing and moulding the titanium alloy. “Y-Yeah,” Tony scratches his beard, pathetically trying to hide the laugh he couldn’t quite control. “Anything else?” His voice cracks

<|output|> <|example|> were going to disappoint Wanda this time around too. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> There is an unexplainable fear lurking within him waiting for the other shoe to drop <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> If there’s anything I’ve learnt from this talk, it’s that you’re incredibly inclined to assume the Outside the cricket sings, it rained earlier, so the frogs croak in harmony to them <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> You disappeared <|indexes|> 2 2 |

<|text|> and his lips tremble but he never notices all these, too enraptured by the sight of Steve in front of him, whole and unharmed. No tears, no – “I mean, why not tell the others, why are you here, not with them.” He adds hastily when Bruce looks at him like he’s lost his head. One part of his mind supplies him with all the memories he has of Steve with his bare feet; both appropriate and incredibly inappropriate. It’s only when Tony gives a curt nod and stilted promise of “I promise we’ll work on this,” that T’Challa moves. To her credit, she holds his gaze, unwavering, green eyes flickering slightly as if she’s trying to read into him. Tony lets her. He feels like yelling at him. Screaming that his right to call him like that was lost along with the last crumbs of Tony’s heart. “Twenty-six?!” Sam asks, louder if that’s even possible, and Barnes throws a pillow at his head as Steve and Rhodey walk away. “Maybe if you ask nicely.” He suggests, bringing his fingers to brush over a stray mist coated golden leaf on the mowed lawn. Left alone with Charles and McCoy, both men offer a tour around their lab while waiting for Wanda and Miss Grey to return. T’Challa regards him for a long while, as if he’s deciding what to say next. Whatever he decides, gives him the pinched look like he’d tasted something bitter, but the resignation of his decision is concrete in the curve of his shoulders. “I’m fine.” He says, turning back to the gauntlet he's fiddling with under a low table lamp, straining his eyes behind his glasses. He thinks about progress. He thinks about healing. He wonders if he falls back into Steve’s arms, will he be undoing every one of them. Steve glances at him, passing him a handful of spoons and forks. Thank god for Korean night, there’re no knives. “AHA!” he points at Rhodey. Beaming like the biggest loon. “So, this is what Steve meant.” He laughs at Rhodey’s increasingly confused look. So Tony tries to be there for him, as much as he can; never stopped trying even during remission. But he had some meetings to attend across the ocean; 5 countries in three days and this wasn’t even their first separation, let alone the longest. He wouldn’t have left if he wasn’t confident. “You can stop talking now,” Tony loops an arm around hers, guiding them back into the kitchen. Leaving the chilly winter air of the backyard to the crickets and moonlight. relieved. He is so relieved that he could laugh because every single damned time this happens - he is afraid he will never get Bucky back so when he does; he feels like he could finally Tony’s head whips around to face him, “Why?” he asks back, scandalised, “I just jumped you, you blonde idiot. I’m in love with you! You want friendship while I want to fuck you and then take you out on dates and do that over and over for everyday of my life and Steve. I want to see your face the first thing

<|output|> <|example|> and his lips tremble but he never notices all these, too enraptured by the sight of Steve in front of him, whole and unharmed. No tears, no – <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” He laughs at Rhodey’s increasingly confused look <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> To her credit, she holds his gaze, unwavering, green eyes flickering slightly as if she’s trying to read into him <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Beaming like the biggest loon <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> He thinks about healing <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” “If you live here, you’d know.” Natasha remarks casually, her eyes trained unblinking on the TV when Tony snaps his attention back to her. Tony scoffs. Steve on the other hand, flushes with shame. “It won’t happen again,” he tells Fury. The chair beside him creaks and Tony stands up straightening his suit. Steve looks at him expectantly, hoping he’d say something, but he isn’t even looking back. When Steve starts shaking again, fingers digging into Tony’s skin where they rest over his naked side, Tony presses his mouth over Steve’s ear. The sight of them reminds him of movie nights in the tower, eons ago. When Thor and Barton would make a game out of who eats most popcorn of them all. , JARVIS’ console burned into ashes. Tony’s heart shattered like the glasses around the lab he used to share with Bruce. Bruce who was gone, untraceable. There’s a distinct ache in his chest that belonged to neither Bruce not JARVIS. “What are you? 12?” he snorts. “Is this how you flirt, because Rogers you better count your lucky stars you landed me for your boyfriend. I let you get away with this. Anyone else, I doubt they will.” He’d spent a long, long time hoping it had been different. That something could be changed between them. “Sometimes, we have to rely on others to help us.” He tells her, clutching tightly onto his steaming mug of coffee as he follows her example and keeps his eyes trained far, far away into the clearing. They’re a team now as far as a team Tony had imagined should be. If Steve insists on calling it a family, he thinks he can forgive him for that too. Tony’s eyes seem to soften marginally before they harden and he bodily slams Steve up against the wall. Everything happens so quickly then forth that Steve's first conscious thought is: Is he kissing me? ; decked in mismatching socks and comfy throws, for each their own hot beverage and piles of snacks on the floor as they marathon movies after bad movies for the night. Tony has no words for her. No ways to understand her, but he tries to. He tries to put himself in her shoes even if he fails each time because he cannot even begin to imagine, but he tries. They say, the natural selection is merciless. It eliminates those who are too weak. Too incapable to defend themselves. His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. It was a stealth mission. For all he’d played the clandestine agent game as best he could, Tony never quite managed to master the art of “I am

<|output|> <|example|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> If Steve insists on calling it a family, he thinks he can forgive him for that too <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” “If you live here, you’d know <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> He tries to put himself in her shoes even if he fails each time because he cannot even begin to imagine, but he tries <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> That something could be changed between them <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> That something could be changed between them <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> ” He tells her, clutching tightly onto his steaming mug of coffee as he follows her example and keeps his eyes trained far, far away into the clearing <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> the real— Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s fair. I can see how you’d think… I mean, it makes sense, more sense really… Cap, I’m the real Tony Stark.” Steve, however fit and well-trained, lacked the staying power of a literal machine. He was starting to flag, and the inevitably of his limitations made him desperate, or especially clever, or both. In the grains of the strained, splintering wood, he found his excuse. And he knew that the explosion, when it came, would be magnificent. He accepted, of course he did, and she sent a single thought. A face in its unmarked, inhuman beauty. The roiling, stinging rapids of emotion that nearly drowned her. Tenderness. Love. A tempest of grief, despair, and Friday, his baby girl for all that she was no longer a baby in any sense of the word. Not with twenty-six months uptime and two younger siblings approaching fifteen months themselves. A year since JARVIS moved to the experimental Legionnaire project full-time and Friday became his permanent copilot in the Iron Man armor. For every android smuggled across the 39th parallel, a dozen—a score, three dozen, more—attempted crossings of their own. Some succeeded, but far more treks ended in tragedy. Capture. Surrender into custody. Summary execution or transportation off-site to be ‘decommissioned’ en masse. “Was not,” Tony lied. In lieu of further commentary, he leveled his repulsors at the multi-million dollar machinery. Tony managed to avoid a confrontation for twenty-three days and fifteen missions before the penny dropped. Her memory would persist far beyond this wasteland for years to come if Tony had anything to say about it. In return, Tony transmitted pieces of a map. The first would direct the now-alert Pink Traci to the downed AJ-200. The second, to one of many egress packs stashed around the outer borders of Mesquite Regional. Advanced coolant packs. Billowing beige hooded ponchos. So long as she was careful and sheltered in the hottest parts of the day, it was enough to see her through to the third and final stage of the path he offered. The first stage of a long journey he started each and every Mesquite rescue on. Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. Steve doesn’t stop, he can’t stop. He’d die if he stops, but it’s not enough, it’s like having only half of Tony. It’s like being only half of himself. “I was already worried! Steve! When they threw you back into that room you were a sack of broken bones. Do you think that didn’t worry me? I was terrified you’d die in my arms! Of infection, of, of a perforated lung! Do you have He must be very tired. It makes Steve worry, though, because the Tony he knew was always impossibly active, slept the bare minimum, constantly driven by a strange sort of nervous energy. Now he seems okay physically, to Steve’s inexpert eye at least... but who knows. Tony comes out of the bathroom. He’s towelling off his hair, another towel snug around his hips. Low. So damn low. “I kept a secret from

<|output|> <|example|> the real— Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s fair. I can see how you’d think… I mean, it makes sense, more sense really… Cap, I’m the real Tony Stark.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> That’s fair <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Yeah, okay <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> Tenderness <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Summary execution or transportation off-site to be ‘decommissioned’ en masse <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> Dad. A big secret. It was about Uncle Bucky and... Dad got mad at me and Uncle Bucky, so I—” “I will. I want you. Steve. My consent… you have it. When you wake up again I don’t know if you… but it’s okay. Anything you need to do, you have my permission. Throughout the whole rut. Alright?” Tony avoids looking at Steve, gathers saliva in his mouth and spits in his hand, takes both their dicks in his fist and starts stroking, fast, and Steve’s brain after that, “Perfect… perfect for me,” Tony hears him whisper; he’s saying other things but Tony can’t make them out. Steve rests his hips on the mattress and Tony feels reckless enough to ride up his dick a couple of times—at first Steve’s knot is still small enough that it catches at Tony’s rim just right, but then the edge of pain becomes sharper, and then it just That seems to hit Steve harder than Tony meant to. He clenches his jaw. “How’re you feeling?” he asks, pushing Tony’s hair away from his forehead, then sliding his hand down, resting it on Tony’s cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, don’t worry. We’re gonna get through this together, just… just don’t slip away from me.” Back in their room, Tony becomes silent, immersed in his own thoughts. He sits on the bed, stares absently at his own hands, open in his lap with the palms up. He studies them as if he’s seeing them for the first time. She’s crying too, now, and Steve releases Tony’s hand and sits next to her on the couch, hesitates for a moment, then wraps her up in his big arms. Tony follows, sits on Stella’s other side, and hugs her too, and what he can reach of Steve, because you hug people when they’re hurt; his Mom taught him that. Steve whispers. “I don’t know, this is just... overwhelming, and I, I don’t, it’s so… it’s so strange to think that I can touch you like this, and, and kiss you, and…” Stella insists they stay for dinner. Tony tries to resist, but she says she’s going to make insalata di riso, and Steve never had it, and apparently there’s no way Steve can go around telling people he went to Italy during summer if he never had insalata di riso. So they stay. But also: Tony isn’t feeling any worse, really. Actually, he feels pretty good. His orgasms are good. His erections are okay-ish. Sure, they often sag, but Steve is very patient and waits for him, smiles, touches him in the least condescending way, gives him all the time he needs, helps him until he comes. He felt a bit embarrassed at first, looking at his soft cock slide between Steve’s lips, but he’s used to it now, and it feels strangely intimate. And in general he maybe feels a bit weak in the legs when he walks to the bathroom in the morning, but for the rest, he’s fine. “Come to bed, Tony,” Steve tries, “please.” And it makes Tony laugh even harder, because to him the mere idea is

<|output|> <|example|> Dad. A big secret. It was about Uncle Bucky and... Dad got mad at me and Uncle Bucky, so I—” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> And in general he maybe feels a bit weak in the legs when he walks to the bathroom in the morning, but for the rest, he’s fine <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Yeah, don’t worry <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> “How’re you feeling?” he asks, pushing Tony’s hair away from his forehead, then sliding his hand down, resting it on Tony’s cheek <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. He reaches up with his arms to encircle Steve’s shoulders, balances himself on his tiptoes and guides Steve’s head into the crook of his neck. “Are you trying to prove we can’t co-lead the team right now? Acting like this?” Steve says, making an effort to speak as quietly as possible, almost whispering, so Tony doesn’t feel antagonized by the words, so they don’t start screaming at each other, so things don’t go to shit in one minute. He thinks about all the people who hate him, all the people he has let down, everyone he has disappointed and hurt. He thinks about his misguided attempts at redeeming himself, about how he only made it worse, only caused more death, more pain, more suffering to innocent lives that did not deserve the incommensurable misfortune of Tony Stark crossing the path of their peaceful existences. He’s half-naked when Steve finds him, and that, of all things, annoys Tony. He doesn’t want to show his bruises, doesn’t want Steve to see how much weight he’s lost, how dry his skin is, peeling off and scabbing at his knees and elbows. Tony gets up from the bed to take off his pants and t-shirt, drapes them over a chair. He opens the French window and stands there for a few minutes, letting the breeze cool his skin, dry away the thin layer of sweat covering him. It’s a slow process, because the air is stifling even in the middle of the night. He should install air conditioning, but every time he thinks about it he feels queasy, like he’s thinking about disrupting the natural order of things. “Leave me,” he says. Tony shoots him the coldest look. “They’ll be here soon. You need the advantage.” This church was here when his father died, when he was born, when his mom died, when Bucky went to war. It was here when Steve met Peggy, when he got his new body, while he was fighting Nazis. It was here when Bucky died, it was here when Steve felt his lungs fill with ice-cold water. During all the time he slept, this church was here: while Bucky was brainwashed, while Peggy went on with her life, while Tony was born and grew up and Sharon and Sam did the same, while Bucky and Natasha shared whatever it is they had and that Steve hopes they can have again, if they want. When Steve woke up, the church was here. When he met Tony, too. That night, when Steve came inside Tony for the first and only time, the taste of Tony’s orgasm still acidic down Steve’s throat, this church was here. “Fuck,” he says, and the tears that stream down his face now are so utterly different from all the others he’s spilled these past few days—this isn’t pain, this isn’t shame, this isn’t emptiness or frustration or heartbreak, no. Tony has done this same thing many times to many people in his life, and no one’s ever been this tight, not even at first,

<|output|> <|example|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “They’ll be here soon <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He opens the French window and stands there for a few minutes, letting the breeze cool his skin, dry away the thin layer of sweat covering him <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> not even the first time. “I held myself back. Kept myself from loving you, forced myself not to, because I was supposed to hate you. Because I The box in Steve’s hand provides him with more comfort than its little size should justify. He’s grateful for it; in certain situations he never knows what to do with his hands. . Then Tony would touch Steve, or suck him off, or lay there under him while Steve braces with one arm next to Tony’s head and jerks off, staring into Tony’s eyes, coming all over his lap, on his soft dick. Sometimes, he would even lick it clean, and Tony would shudder and whine, because it’s too much. They go to the bathroom after that, clean up properly, and then they go to bed. Steve is still fisting his erection. God, it hurts so much. He doesn’t want to use the toys, but the thought of his knot swelling up with only his hand around it makes the bottom drop out of his stomach. Tony nods. Steve holds Maria up while Tony is leaving, pitches his voice a bit higher—half talking to her, half pretending to voice her thoughts. “Say bye to Dad, Maria. Bye, Dad. Love you.” They’ll have to make a new announcement. Tell everyone that the wedding’s off. It won’t be hard to make it believable. Tony’s Tony, after all; he’s always been. “He gave me and Nat an ultimatum. He wanted to bring you and Barnes in, said he’d put Special Ops on it. Threatened to… So I said I’d take you in. I tried to tell you, at the airport. He wanted to kill you and I… I almost had a heart attack when he said that.” He laughs, caustic. “He said I couldn’t, uh, be objective about it. You couldn’t either.” He sighs. “You wanted to protect him. I wanted to protect you.” “I know,” replies Steve while he towels off Tony’s hair. He rests his forehead against Tony’s, closes his eyes, and Tony sees him smile. Steve breathes in, deep, and his nose brushes Tony’s. He smells of roses. He’d taste of them, too. Steve watches the expanse of sky passing over them from the cockpit and thinks of the same thing he’s been thinking about for the last two years. The afternoon sun is merciless, yet Steve shivers. He closes his eyes, letting the ache spread through him. He can’t do anything for Tony. He wishes he could. (But something good happened once. A couple of years before Thanos arrived on Earth, Tony was having an anxiety attack after a mission. He slept in Steve’s bed with Sarah, asked Steve to stay. So there is, actually, a small chance. A precedent, at least.) “And those, the new bruises, the way they hurt... it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t… it was too much, I couldn’t, I couldn’t breathe…” Tony’s chest heaves with a shuddering sigh. “But this one I have now, it’s… it feels good. It feels like the one from that night again.” And hope, so far away until just now, so distant if not for mere dreams

<|output|> <|example|> not even the first time. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> I tried to tell you, at the airport <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> and scattered images, so unreacheable except for the bare minimum needed to get out of bed in the morning and face the day—but it took such an effort to get to it, every time it drained all energy from him—slams back into Steve. The bridge over the river where Steve and Tony go swimming is called Ponte a Macereto (you can see some pictures “I love your hair,” Steve says, very quietly, as if he’s ready to pretend he didn’t say anything if Tony doesn’t hear him. And now, a billion years later, Steve is approaching the cherry tree again, and sure enough, Tony is there. He makes Steve sit on the bed, back propped up against the headboard, and he adjusts a pillow in between. He takes Steve’s face between his hands, straddles his thighs again. Tony orders salmon for them both, since there’s a fresh batch that came from Livorno just this morning, as Federico, the young man that waits on them, says. She looks down at the floor and she seems to search for a resolve that she doesn’t have. That’s strange too: if there’s something Riri has plenty of, it’s courage. There’s fire in her heart, there’s always been. It’s why Tony loved her so much, it’s why Steve loves her so much. Tony’s face falls, Steve didn’t want it to sound like an accusation but his brain is slow right now and he doesn’t really know how to phrase it better. Tony sighs. He’s mildly grateful for the noise. It’s not particularly loud, but Tony allows it to take over his mind, so he doesn’t have to hear the man’s grunts, or his moan when he comes. He hasn’t yet, but he will soon. He’s fucking Tony faster, which means he’s close. Steve tosses the remains of their lunch in the plastic bag and throws the whole thing in a trashcan. His secret sketchbook isn’t there anymore. He panics for a moment, then remembers where he left it the last time. He looks around, and there it is, under the bed, fallen there from under his pillow through the space between the mattress and the headboard. He picks it up with a smile on his face. That’s what Tony wanted him to do in Berlin; that was what FDR’s pen was meant to accomplish: compromise. In 1958 Maria Carbonell was twenty-one years old. She was smart, she loved science and music, she was beautiful. Breakfast is slow and quiet. Steve swallows his usual preposterous amount of raw eggs, and three croissants, while Tony nips idly at his own and lazily taps on his tablet. Steve opens his mouth a few times and then closes it. He doesn’t know what to say. How to explain it to his child. He takes a deep breath. Simple words, Rogers. Steve draws a deep, fake sigh of relief, and Tony smiles again, his teeth impossibly white against his tan skin. Slowly, Tony regains control over his own breathing, his chest stops hurting, the pounding in his head eases up. He’s so tired of crying, of not knowing what’s going to happen, of the continuous sting of guilt at

<|output|> <|example|> and scattered images, so unreacheable except for the bare minimum needed to get out of bed in the morning and face the day—but it took such an effort to get to it, every time it drained all energy from him—slams back into Steve. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Steve opens his mouth a few times and then closes it <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He hasn’t yet, but he will soon <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> He doesn’t know what to say <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> and scattered images, so unreacheable except for the bare minimum needed to get out of bed in the morning and face the day—but it took such an effort to get to it, every time it drained all energy from him—slams back into Steve <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> It’s why Tony loved her so much, it’s why Steve loves her so much <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> the bottom of his stomach. He might have to live with it for the rest of his life, and the sheer possibility fills him with a dread that no bravery can ease. “She talks about music, she gives me advice on a job I was about to accept, but in the end didn’t. She hints about your father’s work on the super soldier serum, but doesn’t go into detail for obvious reasons. She asks me about Laura. Tells me she read one of Laura’s papers and has some questions for her. She… she talks about you too, Tony. And about your father.” But now, in this moment that could be the last he has with Tony—because they could die fighting later tonight; because sending Spider-Man in the past could erase their entire reality—for now, Steve pulls Tony close, rubs his face into the soft skin of Tony’s neck, and lets himself be happy. But this Maria, the one in the picture, wouldn’t wear that mask (that armor) for another few years. Not too many, though. , Tony wonders, and he finds himself thinking that yes, T'Challa probably does. It makes Tony smile. Tony considered it beneath himself too, so he spent the last few months holed up in his workshop, letting the world go on on its own. Then something, something deep inside Steve, something that could actually be Tony, orders him to move, and he does, and it’s fast and frantic and almost brutal and he needs to be careful not to hurt Tony but Tony is moaning, keeps murmuring “What I did… in the end, it kept Bucky alive, and I’m glad for that. But thinking about it now, with my head clear, seeing how many other choices I could’ve made…  and seeing you like this, what I did to you… maybe... maybe it wasn’t worth it, Tony.” “Sometimes, I feel like we’ve been here for months,” he says then, quietly, almost to himself instead of Tony. “But it’s only been days.” The way Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes a little lost with too much wonder, but there was no shame in his gesture, no incredulity in his gaze. It should feel good, but it’s not just an attraction. It’s a craving, driven into him by a survival instinct that maybe made sense for cavemen who needed to perpetuate the species, but not for him anymore, not for anyone living now, and yet it’s still there and he hates it. Tony wakes up between Steve’s arms, with his face nestled into Steve’s chest. His skin is matted with dried tears, his mouth parched, his tongue heavy. Tastes gray. He resumes pushing into Tony, very slowly, still lost in Tony’s eyes, in this infinite moment where nothing matters except them, their eyes meeting, their souls melting into one. When Steve bottoms out Tony lets out a sob, and a few more tears spill freely from the corner of his eye and down his temple, in his hair, on the pillow. Steve leans down, kisses Tony’s face, kisses his tears, his mouth. Tony kisses back and it

<|output|> <|example|> the bottom of his stomach. He might have to live with it for the rest of his life, and the sheer possibility fills him with a dread that no bravery can ease. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Tony wakes up between Steve’s arms, with his face nestled into Steve’s chest <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Steve leans down, kisses Tony’s face, kisses his tears, his mouth <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> “She talks about music, she gives me advice on a job I was about to accept, but in the end didn’t <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> She asks me about Laura <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> She asks me about Laura <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> feels like that now he has started he never wants to stop. Tony circles Sarah’s back with his hand. This close, he can feel all the ways his kid doesn’t smell like she should. He strokes her hair. He wasn’t ready. Tony’s body wasn’t ready to be brought back to consciousness, and his body wasn’t ready for He knows it’s not really the case, but sometimes Tony still sees Steve as someone who thinks that Tony only fights for himself, only wants to look cool while he picks the easy way out to every problem. Tony stops following Steve on the walkway around the castle, closes his eyes, listens to the wind whistle between the tree leaves a few feet below him, concentrates on his heartbeat, on all the wounds he has taken and healed from; thinks about all the times someone has told him to give up, to surrender, to submit and succumb, and about all the times he has said, Tony walks beside Steve; they cast two long shadows over the white gravel trail. It’s like they’re trying to walk over those dark shapes on the ground, but can never really reach them. He hasn’t seen Tony like this in a long time. The sight, now, fills him with an awful sense of dread, soon replaced by a need he can’t hope to keep restrained. He needs to have, to mark, to keep, to make Tony his. He needs to rip that stupid towel away and bury his face into— Tony groans and swallows and tightens his jaw instead of relaxing, instead of easing Steve’s way in. All he wants to do is scream. His dick keeps spurting load after load of thick come into the toy, each time bringing awful spasms to his abdominal muscles, his pelvis, his thighs. There’s no pleasure at all in this. It’s an orgasm that feels like a knife through the guts. He knows he shouldn’t. Everyone says it’s bad for you now; it’s not like during the war. You can get cancer from this stuff. Maybe not Steve specifically, but still. Tony asks if Steve wants wine, and he replies, “If you don’t want it, I don’t want it,” so they stick to water, but Tony doesn’t offer any further explanation, and Steve doesn’t ask for one. Steve clenches and unclenches his hands multiple times. Fist, no fist, fist, no fist, fist, no fist. He presses his nails in the center of his palms, hard, leaving red marks. “Tony, please answer me,” Steve says, his voice trembling with urgency, “If you don’t, I’ll have to come in.” “It makes you feel like you belong somewhere,” Steve says, in a dreamy tone. He makes a face as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud, draws in a sharp breath. He licks his lips and swallows. “It makes you feel like you’re part of a system. Like a planet.” Steve takes his fingers out of Tony and gingerly licks them clean. Tony watches him, and the way Steve does it, how natural he is about it, how normal it all seems, gives him a little pang of

<|output|> <|example|> feels like that now he has started he never wants to stop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He hasn’t seen Tony like this in a long time <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> It’s like they’re trying to walk over those dark shapes on the ground, but can never really reach them <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> This close, he can feel all the ways his kid doesn’t smell like she should <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Everyone says it’s bad for you now; it’s not like during the war <|indexes|> 3 3 |

<|text|> regret for all the time they wasted, just below his heart. He dreams of cutting Tony’s throat open with the shield, of watching the dark pool of blood expand beneath their bodies, of not caring that Tony is dead only because Steve is about to die, too. The words are like flames on Tony’s skin, and like a soothing balm at the same time. He’s so ashamed. All of him, every single thing that makes him who he is, every embarrassing detail, every horrific secret—it’s all out in the open for Steve to watch and examine. Nothing is hidden. “Ugh, someone save me from you two bonding over the good ol’ days,” Tony says, carrying fruit in the bowl, his shirt wet here and there. But Steve gasps, unexpectedly, and even though it sounds more like the final rattle of a dying man, he eases off of Tony. He groans again, tortured and agonizing, and takes his fingers out of Tony’s mouth. Steve turns off the light, and darkness takes over the room, except for the reactor, shining through Tony’s t-shirt. The temperature has dropped a few degrees. Tony wonders if it’s going to rain later. “Also I wanted...” Steve can’t continue for a moment. He looks nervous again, like this is a test or something. He reaches into his pocket. “I wanted to give you this. Maria, I mean. I wanted to give Maria this.” “You’re hurting enough. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I can’t see you like this.” He knows he can’t have Tony; there’s no need to remind him. Tony doesn’t want him like that. They mended the bond only last night. If they had had more time, maybe Tony would have been willing to at least… But no. It’s too soon. He won’t ask Tony to do something like that. “He... he felt like it was too dangerous for him to keep being around so he... he went back into cryo. He’s in Wakanda.” Steve’s voice is full of guilt as he confirms what Tony already knows. “Who... who’s gonna arrest us here?” Tony asks, incredulous at how ridiculous the joke is, but also amused by it. Tony hastens to find a t-shirt. With the corner of his eye he sees Bucky look at Steve, and mouth something at him. Steve nods. “You said that. I didn’t realize… I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection. Didn’t expect it to be warm.” “I know I don’t deserve it. Not after what I did. My apologies aren’t enough, they’ll never be. But this is all I’ve got. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. It’s all I’ve got.” They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. Their attraction is youthful, passion burning with no inhibition, almost blinding them both from anything else but them. Tony remembers in details how that once felt. The alarm blares. The lights shut down. JARVIS is unreachable again. Tony’s insides clamp down painfully and he shoves the sickening feel away to retrieve him. He meets red rimmed blue eyes steadily, curling his

<|output|> <|example|> regret for all the time they wasted, just below his heart. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> “I wanted to give you this <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> fingers tighter around larger hand and without a single word, he tugs, waiting for Steve to take a step forth when he doesn’t follow. It catches Tony off guard, pausing him with parted lips, reply ready on the tip of his tongue before he hastily snaps his mouth shut and closes his eyes. Then he wonders, what’s so selfish about that. Because he’s 100% sure, he’s not the only one between them with that kind of longing. “Can you call back later?” Steve grunts, accidentally letting out a heavy sigh at the end of the sentence as if he’s coming out of a heavy duty labour. Which makes the caller pause for a good two seconds. Tony rolls his eyes fondly, starting anew. Repeating the story in a more dulcet tone as Steve nods and smiles at places. Steve’s gaze catches the motion and he casts a fleeting glance towards Tony’s hand before hastily turning away with a tight smile. Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine. Tony feels his own panic trying to break out, but he pushes it down, focusing on the man he’s holding onto instead. He can think about how wrong this is later, scold himself later, regret – like having ice cream under the rain; there’s a high possibility he’ll catch cold just like how Tony blinks, understandably taken aback. Steve doesn’t blame him. It’s a rather new and odd request. They’re fine with cuddling in front of TV and sharing kisses but sitting on lap? That’s surprising. Resignation is a sad look on Steve. When he nods, all the fights bleeding out of him; helpless, it looks awful. Tony briefly considers revoking Barnes imaginary invitation to the Broken People Club, but before he dwells into that thought, a plate of pancake is thrusted into his sight. When night comes, Bucky can warm them up, and maybe they’ll get too warm, maybe they’ll sweat, maybe they’ll strain their muscles, pull one or two, maybe they’ll get messy and stain the sheets but refuse to get out of bed. Somewhere along the line, Steve starts retracing the scars over Tony’s chest; of burns and of reactor. He fails to follow the timeline, jumping between the first time they’d met and the time they’d spent destroying HYDRA base with the team to Siberia and then the times when he’d accompanied Steve during his sleepless nights in the tower. Even if he realises that this gives way to another repeat of what went down before, he feels he knows better now. Has learnt to grow up and grown to accept it as a norm that exists within a team. Part and parcel of a He told himself that he was saving Steve the trouble. Told himself, he was saving Steve from the heartbreak as he watched it shatter before him. “Can I speak with you in private.” He asks, skittish like an animal as he hunches over, the hood of his black sweater falling down his brow line. Wanda mumbles a shy response which flies past Tony’s mind because the burst

<|output|> <|example|> fingers tighter around larger hand and without a single word, he tugs, waiting for Steve to take a step forth when he doesn’t follow. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Can I speak with you in private <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Has learnt to grow up and grown to accept it as a norm that exists within a team <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> of sharp chilli in his tongue is very distracting, albeit, incredibly delicious. It’s also difficult to begrudge someone you still love so deeply after they crushed you into nothing, knowing – knowing that you also, once, crushed them just as badly and yet, they forgave you for it. “You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.” . But there’s this desperate urge to run his mouth on Rogers and that urge is too big to be shut down with a lid. It’s not even like they’re dating but that’s how the group’s treating their truce and honestly, Tony knows he can put a stop to that, but he simply hasn’t bothered to. Pepper shakes her head. “I’m mad at him.” She says. “Was.” She corrects. “Not anymore, but I was. Which is why I ask you…,” She trails off. Tony fiddles all the way until they enter the lab, then, he is mostly just curious. McCoy is nice enough to let Tony wander around the lab by himself, as long as he asks McCoy before he does anything; general lab rules, Tony’s no stranger to them. Rogers looks at him in shock. The cup of something in one hand frozen mid-air where it seems to be meant for Tony. That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right. “Nope, not shoes. But something… You’ll know when you unbox it later.” Tony winks, brushing past Wanda with a merry smile which she reciprocates brightly. in the beginning, but he realises now, after only three weeks since their truce, he actually is happy. “Is this how you’re going to justify all your arguments with me?” Tony murmurs into the kiss and Steve pulls away to let out a snort. “Come here,” he grunts, pulling Bucky into the bed, wrapping him up in a blanket so he can never feel cold, only warm. Doesn’t wrap himself within; he knows sometimes, too much touch can be uncomfortable, but the way Bucky looks at him when he combs his wet hair back is hungry. So Tony tucks himself close enough and presses a kiss to his forehead. Only a few days after celebration, they have to send Wanda off and long story short; the compound never ceased from someone yelling “Wait! Have you got that –,” or “Did you remember to pack -,” every few minutes. And Steve reels back, shaken by the unexpected venom dripping from his friend. Or who used to be his best friend – he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. Not after how everything changed – don’t know what caused it even – after Tony returned from Belgium a fortnight ago, and he started treating Steve differently. Worse than he used to before they were friends – No. Instead, he lets Tony hold him like that, head tucked beneath Tony’s chin while he hugs Tony back just as tightly and glues themselves together. “Did he do something?” She asks, guilt swirling in the deep whirlpool of her bright eyes and Tony’s exhale leaves in a loud

<|output|> <|example|> of sharp chilli in his tongue is very distracting, albeit, incredibly delicious. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Pepper shakes her head <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> So Tony tucks himself close enough and presses a kiss to his forehead <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Only a few days after celebration, they have to send Wanda off and long story short; the compound never ceased from someone yelling “Wait! Have you got that –,” or “Did you remember to pack -,” every few minutes <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> The cup of something in one hand frozen mid-air where it seems to be meant for Tony <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> “Was <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> of sharp chilli in his tongue is very distracting, albeit, incredibly delicious <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> whoosh. And Steve, he’s never looked this relax since ever. All those smiles and the ways he looks at Tony – It’s – “I’m kinda tired of holding grudge.” He shrugs as an explanation. Leaf still hanging limply by its stem in the middle of the table. Tony’s body physically twists around to leave, but Rogers calls his name, all too eager and Tony’s above chickening out in front of a witness. But Steve lingers on. Eyes flickering to Tony minutely while he goes about kicking the pile of rolled up tapes to the wall and returns to the bench to pick up his stuffs. Tony giggles, clumsily wiping his own shed tears. Then he tells her everything about the plan, mincing where necessary, in respect of both Wanda and the team’s privacy. Eventually, Rhodey pulls away with an irritated huff, “First, Captain America and now she got my best friend tied around her pinky,” then he gives another glare, “Or maybe you first and then Captain America.” But all that get chased down soon when Steve cups a hand over his cheek and rubs a thumb beneath Tony’s eye so gently, it makes him ache for more. It’s a bit of a straight forward comment, but there’s no beating around the bushes with it. Steve should stop acting like everything’s his fault. He’s no Atlas. The world is not Maybe he was expecting her to ask it earlier. When the wounds were still fresh. Or maybe later. When the wounds are mere aged scars that never throb once in a while. Fortunately for him, that’s when his hour ends, and when he lays in bed that night, sleep evades him like he’s back to ground zero all over again. They put Good Omens on and curl up on the coach with Chinese take-outs. After the second episode, Pepper excuses herself to change into something more comfortable; Tony’s shirt and an old pair of sweats. Secretly he’s kind of proud of Rhodey having the upper-hand over the Captain America himself. But Steve’s easy-going attitude towards it dampens the effect. But still, Tony points it out. He fetches a glass and fills it with water, holding it out for Steve. Once taken, he fetches another and repeats the process, draining the content in a second. Steve offers his for taking and Tony chugs that down too. Tony’s body demands medical attention and vasodilators with an extended leave from physical duty but the six years old Captain America fan in his head is thriving from this attention. He might as well risk another attack if he could be of use for Cap. There are still times when he feels like a void has popped beneath his feet, but the difference is that he knows it. He’s aware of the fact that he’s going to get sucked in if he keeps standing there and not move elsewhere and that in itself grants him options. He escapes outdoor through the kitchen door. Hoping the brisk night air may help him a little with his condition. “What happened?” Steve asks, concern coupled with alertness shadowing his sharp eyes as he pulls Tony immediately behind him and starts

<|output|> <|example|> whoosh. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” He shrugs as an explanation <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> ” He shrugs as an explanation <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Tony’s body physically twists around to leave, but Rogers calls his name, all too eager and Tony’s above chickening out in front of a witness <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> whoosh <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> scanning the hallway. “Take care.” Rhodey says before he shoots up into the night sky, like a blinding star, growing further and further out of reach and Tony whispers a thank you after him. “I miss him.” He says in the end. Because if there’s anything that he’s sure about, this is that only piece of information amidst the entire mess. with all of his super soldier strength, that the pitiful remains of Tony’s pathetic heart crumbled and At night, he’s with Steve, talking uninterrupted for hours and they go to bed together these days – on those when he stays. They see each other during the day too, but briefly and most of it are joined by somebody else. Steve nudges back, brushing nose against nose, like some kind of animal Tony cannot think of at the moment. Stunned clear blue eyes imprint in his brain as he shuts the door behind him and texts an apology to Rhodey for his hasty departure before taking the elevator down to the garage and out of the compound. They talk about the then and now. Of how time had melted the pot and swirled a fuck ton of other things into it. And no, Tony thinks, after the first few feet. He refuses to play chase at this age, but not so much to tickling Steve in the bed once he'd caught up. Asking, "You want me to keep you warm? Huh? Is that what you want? I'll keep you warm. Come here, you big blonde cheat." Does it glow as bright as the reactor does in Tony’s chest? Where, while inside, it’s pitch black, outside, Tony burns bright? Nothing but the warm fondness that coils and purrs as it settles in him as he looks down at Steve who’s holding onto him like it’s the most natural thing to do. It’s not his style to word his question this way, but again, he wasn’t really going for his style was he. It’s hers; Natasha’s. To his surprise, she pulls him into a hug and Tony has a nagging suspicion that she may be sticking her tongue out at Rhodey over his shoulder. “I was busy!” Tony hisses, marching out of the elevator as soon as the doors open; glad to rid himself off of Steve. It’s another day and another reminder that “Exercise really helps.” It’s not as if Tony doesn’t work out. He does. By proxy. Steve’s hurt. He just cannot fight it; is exhausted of fighting against it and sure, if that makes him a fool, then so be it. Christen him that way, go ahead. In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care. Tony winds his arms around Steve's neck and asks, "How about now?". And he can feel the answer pressing against him, can feel his own pressing in return. The effect is instant like he'd flicked a switch and Steve goes from a

<|output|> <|example|> scanning the hallway. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Steve’s hurt <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> By proxy <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> It’s not his style to word his question this way, but again, he wasn’t really going for his style was he <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> smug bastard to his faux innocent puppy eyes burrowing into his comforter wrap. But Tony doesn’t miss how she didn’t protest outrageously over him misusing the millennial term (or whatever that is). “Oh,” Tony marvels, watching as she passes a ruby one to Pepper as he opens his own to discover heart shaped chocolates. “Please tell me, Bruce had nothing to do with these.” “The great Tony Stark was under the impression that Your Highness has been too caught up in her love bubble to acknowledge his existence.” Tony smirks, swivelling around in his stool to come to rest in front of an amused Pepper Potts. “Hello, Miss Potts.” It’s Monica’s wish to not step into the world yet. As for Carol, Tony feels like she’s more of Fury’s dirty secret. Let him launder her out and get the stink eyes himself. “Will the great Tony Stark be available for a stay at home dinner with an old friend today or will he be, once again, too busy to grace her with his presence?” once, as far as Tony knows because Pepper up-ed the security after that – the point is, Steve Rogers Even as she’s sitting in front of him, his mind pulls up a picture of what used to be a communal floor in the Avengers’ tower; Natasha sipping on cold tea while Tony and Clint harassed her about the secret to her hand-to-hand skill. Even then, Tony would still talk to him. Needle him, taunt him or something to get a reaction out of Steve. But this time, he’s just plain ignoring Steve; acting as if Steve isn’t even there and then they were called out for a mission and Steve yelled at him because he was trying to get himself blown up again and only then he yelled back at Steve and now. Now, Steve’s trying to talk to him, ask him what’s wrong, and he’s apparently angry at Steve. He couldn’t even get those words out of him. So, when he arrives, he’s in a real foul mood as he waits and waits for the name to pop up. Tony grins, and they watch in silence as Sam tries and fail to kick the back of Barnes’ head, the smell of burnt caramel making them wrinkle their noses in synchrony. He grappled for Steve but couldn’t find him. He tries not to worry about JARVIS, confident he’ll find his own way back but - But then, there are other things he'd do and nobody would buy Tony when he says: "Steve did that! I swear, Pepper, I'm not exaggerating." Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience. But Tony’s shock lasts barely a minute. His grouchiness returns and he huffs again, short and pissy. He’s still mad about his SI work; something about R&D’s incompetence and the board’s fussiness. Steve doesn’t understand business or engineering but he understands Tony just well. . Inside and out and around Tony. Everything about him felt like an instant ascend to Heaven, chorus singing, violin playing, bells chiming; “I love you.” “I thought that

<|output|> <|example|> smug bastard to his faux innocent puppy eyes burrowing into his comforter wrap. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” Tony smirks, swivelling around in his stool to come to rest in front of an amused Pepper Potts <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Everything about him felt like an instant ascend to Heaven, chorus singing, violin playing, bells chiming; “I love you <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Even then, Tony would still talk to him <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Please tell me, Bruce had nothing to do with these <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> was supposed to be our secret?” he asks acting hurt and Tony turns his full-face grin at the man, giving Steve the kiss he swoops in for. They weren’t friends after all. Friends don’t stab others in the back and abandon them to patch the wound themselves. But tonight, after two whole nights of going without sleep and a broken nap in the Quinjet earlier, he’s extremely worn down. It has been a bit difficult easing Steve through their initial awkwardness upon reconciling; they kept running over each other’s words, or stammering and laughing abashedly. “I’m afraid you can’t, boss.” FRIDAY chimes in apologetically. “You can however, afford two hours shut-eye on flight.” He doesn’t mention that aloud but it’s been in the forefront. Especially, increasingly, with every night he spends around Steve. “Oh, for real, I’m just glad you both are working things out between you two.” She shrugs, her shoulder pads following her tiny gesture and amplifying it. little bit of Wilson.” He reaches out for Wanda’s elbow who’s blushing a delightful shade of pink, beaming, “Because if it isn’t for you, I’d be tasting all poop in my chocolate -,” “If they think they’re being subtle, they’re very wrong.” Tony murmurs, keeping his eyes on their disappearing back. To Tony’s amusement, Steve goes an extra mile and swings a leg over Tony’s hip, properly imprisoning him to Steve; tentacle like. He snorts, then straight up laughs, butting his head into Steve’s chest as he shakes from the force of it. Sam makes a disapproving sign with his mouth stuffed with breakfast, then he pauses, swallowing hurriedly and blurts, “Stay away from Jake.” His hand shakes, and a thumb hovers over the buttons, the only saved number in the phone staring at him mockingly. Rhodey flicks a sprinkle at his face. “You brought it up first,” he says, facing back the TV, and he switches the channel. “I was trying to enjoy my hangover donuts in peace and you ruined it.” “You’re a very busy man,” Steve cuts him off. “I know. But you used to talk to me. Since you came back from your last business trip, you never said a word to me, never came out of that lab of yours, refused me access to -,” Rhodey flings an arm over Tony’s shoulder and scoffs. “Childish. Absolute horror but man… they take me back to those days I spent with the guys, on the field, you know.” Nothing below the necks and truth be told, Tony’s been thinking about breaking that spell these last few days. They part on a good note. Tony’s free from the med, with an appointment scheduled two months after. He contemplates talking about Steve Rogers during their next session. Them and his own peace of mind. The dull way his empty cage has once again started to ache, his own smile – “Tony. This is Thanos. The world is ending and I heard what Pepper told me about Cap and you but please, Tony. He has the height of a regular American man, perfectly compact with intelligence and extreme good looks all packed in one. And a pair of really perky butt, which he is very

<|output|> <|example|> was supposed to be our secret?” he asks acting hurt and Tony turns his full-face grin at the man, giving Steve the kiss he swoops in for. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “I was trying to enjoy my hangover donuts in peace and you ruined it <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “I’m afraid you can’t, boss <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He has the height of a regular American man, perfectly compact with intelligence and extreme good looks all packed in one <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> “Oh, for real, I’m just glad you both are working things out between you two <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> proud of - do you have any idea how many squats they cost? - and he'd obviously insured. He pulls the boxer up before he asks, “Do you want the pants?” But Bucky only looks at him blank, meaning he’s dissociating which is - But this time, it’s just his scent. The waft of mild spices mildly lingering in layers of earthy freshness that has always been, Steve. If it wasn’t for the shock of the event in Siberia that pulled the last chords of his heart’s function, something else would have. His drinking, his addictions, the way he threw his life away like it was nothing after barely three months recovering. Steve follows him instead. Sits on the couch and reads a book while Tony does his work. When the Sun comes up, he excuses himself to freshen up and make breakfast. When he returns, Tony’s face down on the couch, drooling into Steve’s jacket. Tony turns to him, Wilson flying right out his mind that instant. He’d forgotten how good Steve looks post working out, “Hey, Steve.” Tony’s been spending some hours thinking about this kind of situation ever since the want to talk to Steve plagued him on Wednesday, and he understandably, It’s painful to watch, her trying to feign it as easy and nothing of importance and the worse is that she looks so… lonely, detached from them all, even as she sits between Sam and Rhodey. “You didn’t hurt anyone,” he tells readily. “Only killed five bottles of beer and two vodkas and then emptied it all on my feet and your clothes.” Selfishly, Tony’s grateful. He knows that every time Bucky picks up a bottle he wishes otherwise, but selfishly with his whole heart, Tony sends a whisper of thanks into the air for every quickened metabolic cycle completed. Point is, Tony Stark is a very secure man that he has no reasons to be insecure about pesky things like the height difference between his super soldier boyfriend and himself. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get riled up when he’s teased about it. And Tony replies, just as monotonously - distracted by those gleeful children, jaw working close to Bucky's ear, breath fanning hot against the skin of his neck as he clings to Bucky like a koala - that, "Nope, just wanted to lie on their bed and seduce you." “No!” Tony seizes, his own big bite of the chocolate sprinkled suddenly dry and lumpy in his esophagus. He swallows painfully and shrugs, “I don’t know? I didn’t tell him.” Tony props himself next to her feet, picks one up onto his lap and starts pressing his fingers along heel, thumbs circling, muscles settling easily into their old memory from the days when he used to woo Pepper with massages. Steve pats his shoulder, joining him to shake T’Challa’s hand and thank his hospitality like two very respectful old souls they are. Tony lifts both hands up in surrender. “Nothing.” He shrugs. “I’m just trying to connect the dots in my head. Mostly monologues. But maybe you should know that she feels the same for you, if it’ll help. Both being

<|output|> <|example|> proud of - do you have any idea how many squats they cost? - and he'd obviously insured. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” Tony’s been spending some hours thinking about this kind of situation ever since the want to talk to Steve plagued him on Wednesday, and he understandably, It’s painful to watch, her trying to feign it as easy and nothing of importance and the worse is that she looks so… lonely, detached from them all, even as she sits between Sam and Rhodey <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> ” Tony props himself next to her feet, picks one up onto his lap and starts pressing his fingers along heel, thumbs circling, muscles settling easily into their old memory from the days when he used to woo Pepper with massages <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> spies, I thought it would annul the dumb part of initiating a relationship a.k.a jealously, assumptions and misunderstandings but boy, was I so wrong.” But Tony doesn’t want them. All Tony wants is to move on and Steve will, with all his might, carry the burden with an oath of silence and give Tony what he wants. “I felt,” Pepper breaks the silence. “- I could forgive him for that time he left you in Siberia. Maybe not wholly. But in a small way, it cancelled it out that day. I still hated him, but I also remember starting to forgive him.” He can see a semblance of that unit in them as he sits, watching Wanda stifle last of her sobs into Sam’s shoulder and sits up, smiling wetly at each one of them. Tony has half the mind to snort and roll his eyes. He’s got his mouth open to say “Don’t look at me like that, snowflake,” when he’s wrapped in a very warm but damn, such a nice, honest-to-god good hug. His ears ring, horrific memories from over a year ago fleeting through the forefront of his brain and he bites the inside of his cheek from wincing. He stands there, stupidly. Wondering what he’s doing, what he wants to do and all but never once does he think about going back to his room. “Nope, that’s all!” She glares beyond her big grin before turning to James again. “Clean your arms properly before you come. I don’t want to touch lube or whatever you’ve been playing with.” She ends the call. He’s on the bed, leaning against the headboard, legs straightened out as the holographic projection of his latest work shimmers in front of him. “Barnes said you and Rhodey had an interesting day with the Council last Wednesday,” Tony brings up as he pours a second helping of tea for Steve and himself. “Rhodey and I talked about it.” He says. “We’re trying to get her to -um - deal with it better? But -,” Proximal communal fracture of right radius. Whatever Steve hit or got hit by, was no joke if it’s taking this long to heal. He waits patiently for him to finish through the motion, turns to Tony and he asks, holding Steve’s eyes. Touching Steve, feeling his too hot skin, feeling his warmer than usual air puffing out with every exhale, feeling the lines of his body, the weight of him dipping the shared mattress; everything about him is like coming home for Tony. So, James tells her, “As long as I can bring Tasha over.” Then his cold blue eyes swipe across the living room and he rattles off more name. “The doc wants to meet the kids. Steve misses the goats. Wilson wants to help with the hays. Tony’s driving -,” Tony’s collar is wet but he couldn’t give a fuck about them. He’s too busy working a hand up and down Steve’s back, giving him a soothing rub as he kisses the side of Steve’s head and shushes him. He swallows around his spoonful of rice and gulps down half a glass of water. When

<|output|> <|example|> spies, I thought it would annul the dumb part of initiating a relationship a.k.a jealously, assumptions and misunderstandings but boy, was I so wrong.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” Then his cold blue eyes swipe across the living room and he rattles off more name <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> His ears ring, horrific memories from over a year ago fleeting through the forefront of his brain and he bites the inside of his cheek from wincing <|indexes|> 1 |

<|text|> he’s confident that his voice won’t give him away, he says, “Nope.” Tony swallows, determination flaring as he corners and pulls Steve - the bulk of a man, taller, bigger than him - until he’s curled around Tony. A while after, Steve’s halfway through his second report and Tony’s fully relaxed on his lap - head leaned back into Steve’s chest, nose nuzzling under Steve’s jaw and he’s got his eyes closed, got Steve believing that he’s fallen asleep - when he murmurs, soft and sleepy, “Thank you, I needed this.” Steve’s breath shudders in his next inhale, falling out of rhythm from Tony’s – never mind, just a momentary distraction, Tony tells himself, they’ll fall back in sync again, inevitably. Barnes wins the war by activating the magnetic feature Tony had installed in his arm the other weekend. Steve stops him, both his struggling hands and his deliberate digression. Testament for how well Steve knows him; like the back of his own hand. Now, as Tony nurses the hot tea, he inches his fingers towards Steve and waits until he’s met halfway. It’s progress from that day on Quinjet and Tony’s proud of that. “I’m going to pay them for this, I swear.” Tony grumbles as he tucks the blanket over Steve. He gives a pat to his cheek, planning to stand up when Steve catches his wrist and doesn’t let go. Problem is, they’re mere mortals surrounded by superhumans and a super spy. Among four enhanced, one head turns to them. Three guesses, which stupid is that. “You want to know what I think, Stark? I think you and Steve are being uncharacteristically stupid. I think Barnes got himself tangled somewhere between the two of yours’ mess and now he’s suffering too. I think all three of you should -,” On a less professional notion, Rhodey and Sam exchanged contacts with Scott and some of the brute guys from his gang. He takes another look at the closed kitchen door and he places the empty glass on the dryer before he walks away. Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment. Bucky presses his thumb pointedly into the bone and he admits regretfully that, "Miss Potts would skin us alive, darlin'. The last time in that gas station caused her too much trouble, remember?" He sees how grave had crawled its way into what Steve and Tony had once built around them. The way forlorn, and despair had bloomed and made their home in there. Bucky’s jaw works, and he nods tightly. Tony presses another kiss because he knows this is hard and he appreciates it but as far as expressing emotions is concerned, this is how far both of them go. She told him once that all she wants is for him to be happy, so he thinks it’s only apt, to ask her the same thing. There

<|output|> <|example|> he’s confident that his voice won’t give him away, he says, “Nope.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Bucky presses his thumb pointedly into the bone and he admits regretfully that, "Miss Potts would skin us alive, darlin' <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> ” Tony grumbles as he tucks the blanket over Steve <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> were stars reflected on his eyes; bright and sparkling, excited to take on a brand-new journey with Tony in life because he loved Tony that much. Tony glances at him over a shoulder, “You know where your room is. I’ve got some work to do, I’ll be in the shop.” Tony takes a sip. “I know a place with competent tech. This will stay out of the accords. I’ll just need to do some arrangements. Tony is 45 going 46 and when he was 15, he realised he blamed himself for everything. When he was 18, he blamed everything else except for himself. When he was blasted away from the humvee and woke up in a cave, he was 15 again but he saw Obadiah Stane burn and he thought: “Are you listening to yourself now?” Tony cuts him off, voice embarrassingly high but there’s no accompanying shame there, just pure disbelief. “I hope to hear from you again next week, Princess. More updates on Miss Danvers will both be expected and appreciated.” - just like that; tangled and intertwined, plastered from top to bottom - into bed and never get out. All they sing in the morning and when they go to bed is pain. All they do is wail and grate and grate and they He tells Pepper and Rhodey about his progress. They’ve sat through a couple of sessions with him as family as well; lots of tears and lots of hugs happened there. It’s a surprisingly small room in contrast to its door which looks like it will lead into an amphitheatre of sort. With fairly common looking tables and chairs, the room is nothing eye catching compared to the lab they’ve just exited from. Tony stops at the front desk of the classroom like setting. Marathoning bad Christmas movies when he could have had hearty meals instead of cheap pizzas and festivities, fun and games instead of sleep, quiet and cuddle with an older boyfriend. They’ve had Korean dishes back in the tower before too. At that time, it had only been Natasha; given her addiction to - of all the things – Korean dramas. Tony loved her steamed eggs the best then. Still does now. He buries his face in his hands and shakes his head clear; elbows propped on his knees, fingers raking through his hair and he glances at Tony from an angle. “Look at this,” he says, pointing at the virtual webs of connection he’d spun out of all the datas he’d gathered. “All these people. I know SHIELD is not squeaky clean but some of their connections are concerning. This one,” he jabs at Senator Stern. A few more minutes pass and Steve leaves his desk to go to the cupboard. Tony watches from beneath his reading glasses as Steve strips off of his t-shirt for one of sleep shirt and takes off his sweat pants. Then he joins Tony on the bed, and tips Tony’s head for a kiss. They bask in the feel of it, breathing it in, breathing out the cold of late august surrounding their own compound back home. She opens her mouth, and he can already

<|output|> <|example|> were stars reflected on his eyes; bright and sparkling, excited to take on a brand-new journey with Tony in life because he loved Tony that much. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> They’ve had Korean dishes back in the tower before too <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> She opens her mouth, and he can already <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> ” - just like that; tangled and intertwined, plastered from top to bottom - into bed and never get out <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Tony loved her steamed eggs the best then <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Tony loved her steamed eggs the best then <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> This one,” he jabs at Senator Stern <|indexes|> 5 5 |

<|text|> hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. “You make me the happiest too,” Steve murmured, his hand - still beneath Tony’s hand, pressed over Tony’s beating heart - have finally stopped shaking. His arm slips away from around his torso minutely until Tony stubbornly grabs hold of his hand and hoists himself up as well. Feeling slightly vexed at Pepper for his own fault, he grits out the name flatly, as if he doesn’t even care about the whole thing; when it’s all that have been sitting and festering in the forefront of his brain since this morning. “Did. Did you know about the rehab?” He stammers, feeling light headed. Because if he does. If – T’Challa said he stopped. But, if he does – Okoye and her girls welcome them all with a smile. But she seems to save her most disgusting stare for Bruce who ducks and scuttles inside quickly. One of the symptoms from Cymbalta withdrawal is profuse sweating. Let’s just say that Tony never knew clammy hands until he got to know clammy hands. That is exactly why Tony wishes he would have had a better hold of himself because then, at least he’ll be able to break Steve’s fall. He’ll be able to . A teen who’s many dreams he’s fulfilling in less than a 24hours time span and a woman who has been in hidings because she cannot understand who she is but has now decided to bravely step out, putting her trust in Tony and it all is… He usually doesn’t recall anything out of those days and it scares him shitless because he’s supposed to have a flawless eidetic memory when he’s not under any substances’ influence. He realises he misses when Steve speaks like this; conversational, casual, whispery and without the depth of his command voice. She gives him an odd unfamiliar smile before she leaves. Tony feels her judgement like the air hanging around him, and it’s suffocating that she’s wrong. Very wrong. Tony pointedly looks away, something coiling akin to guilt in his gut and he chases that away. “What’s the plan?” He asks Fury. But Peggy Carter is lost. Somewhere between old memories and contained anger, and she sniffles, “I will not let you replicate the serum.” Will Steve be angry at Tony for snooping around his room or will he angry at himself for what Tony will find? It’s a long time standing under her scrutiny, keeping himself from running far away from the town because the weight of it, while heavy, is also unsettling. He grips onto the logical part of his brain and he turns away. Dum-E nudges his elbow, holding out a wrench and Tony is not working on anything that needs it but he grabs it for the desperate need to ground himself. Channels all the vengeance into the metal and he’ll fling it later; hard and swift and it’ll break all of his glass panels and he’ll be satisfied for a bit. Bucky Barnes sits in a corner,

<|output|> <|example|> hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Because if he does <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> crouched in front of his toolbox, next to his unfinished motorbike, clearly working on its construction still. He loosens his grip, rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle where the imprint he'd left from last night love-making is the reddest and he looks up at Tony. “I already did, Rogers. Only because you have super healing, you’ve escaped the scars. Pretty sure I left many…” He trails off, more sullen than when he’d started the sentence. Rogers who is unbelievably beautiful - inside and out - that Tony’s poor shattered and twisted heart sang for him. “Not me,” Steve chuckles, looking up with mirth swirling in his blue eyes. “It’s Rhodey,” he winks uncharacteristically. Swallowing the sharp pain behind his throat, Steve looks at him and demands again, “Tony. What did I do?” “He doesn’t look a year old,” Steve sounds faint, sick to his bone, and he shakes minutely when he reaches to touch the image. “I went back. I swear. I went back.” “Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now - He knows he’s smarter than this. He knows all about abuse and its vicious cycle but he doesn’t know if it’s abuse when it was him who lifted his hand A little more than a month and it’ll be Christmas. Next week, it’s Halloween. Tony started and stopped celebrating Halloween in MIT. Pepper apologizes with pouty lips and wide blue eyes. Soft lines of sorry and regret enveloping her apology effectively. Rhodey. Never apologizes. Rhodey does no wrong. He can feel where and where Steve had held him the tightest that night. He can see the sunlight spilling in; slow and glowing, one patch of cotton sheet at a time. “When are we meeting?” Steve asks, interrupting Tony’s thoughts, an array of arguments he’s having with his own blistering doubts from watching Rhodey react to Charles. “So, you think we should have Wanda go there?” Rhodey asks, sinking back into his chair, looking like he’s still reeling from all the new information, a frown etched in his face. He taps away an assuring text to Pepper and Rhodey each, steps into the elevator blindly and right before the door closes, someone catches him by his shoulder and he startles so badly that his chest aches, reminding him of how fresh the attack was. But one day, she decided that she is no longer going to be one. That she is going to wield her fate as her own. Wipe the dripping red off of her many ledgers. They went back to the piano and teaching Steve how to play it and it might have been an hour or two later when they went to bed together. But this time Steve slept. No nightmares sneaking into his subconscious with Tony’s arms and warmth surrounding him like an armour. “Nothing unusual,” Tony bats him off, hiding the fact that he’s intimidated by Rhodey behind a sloppy grin. “One approximately dated to when we were in Germany; whether before, during or after the battle, I don’t know – didn’t really

<|output|> <|example|> crouched in front of his toolbox, next to his unfinished motorbike, clearly working on its construction still. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Swallowing the sharp pain behind his throat, Steve looks at him and demands again, “Tony <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Tony started and stopped celebrating Halloween in MIT <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> “I already did, Rogers <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Soft lines of sorry and regret enveloping her apology effectively <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> “It’s Rhodey,” he winks uncharacteristically <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> “It’s Rhodey,” he winks uncharacteristically <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> “One approximately dated to when we were in Germany; whether before, during or after the battle, I don’t know – didn’t really <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> care to pinpoint the time then. The second one, I felt it, in the bunker.” Tony flips him off but Rhodey’s already sipping on his eggnog with an indulgent smirk and he gives a wave. Calls out; “Good luck!” ask Tony pulls the half-asleep super soldier away from the get-together. Tony intercepts him with another kiss; a little sharp with teeth this time, murmuring, “Nu’uh. Don’t wanna hear. You still owe me for last night.” As he noses at Steve’s cheek. He gives him a few minutes; stays where he’s sat, counting empty bottles on their dining table; two bottles of vodka and five beers. Bad, but they've seen worse. He’d spent hours thinking through everything but he cannot decide on anything because he still doesn’t know what he All there was, was a heavy cloud of worries and paranoia and the urge to see Steve. Right then, that second. With his three-piece suit and Armani dress shoes still on. Steve’s smile widens and he ducks his head to hide a laugh. “Am I making you anxious?” He asks, peering up at Tony once more, the empty water bottle he’s holding onto flinging front and back and it looks like school yard crush talk scenario in Tony’s head. Tony harrumphs, mood a little grumpy but his arm still finds its way around Steve’s neck and pulls him into his side. “Are you writing the Warsaw one in Polish?” Bruce snickers in the background, but immediately schools his expression when Fury shoots him a glare. When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.” Okoye hisses a word of disapproval in their language from the other side of the room, but T’Challa merely laughs it off, steering Tony by the elbow when they reach an intersection down the long hallway. Cheek pressed against Steve’s skull, arms winding tightly around him, clutching onto him while Steve whimpers faintly, dry sobs, breaking out now and then. Nat raises an eyebrow from where she’s leaning next to James, nursing her tea. James seems to be aiming a wet teabag for Sam’s head. After Thanksgiving dinner, Tony spends a night in the compound. Willingly, unforced, unrelated to any kind of obligations. The thing is, Tony’s broken. Has always been, but Steve Rogers took everything that was still left in him and ruined them. Hoping that when he turns around, he doesn’t see tears swimming over his bright blue eyes because that would hurt and that would make him cry and Tony is "You win," he admits, rolling out of the bed and peeling off his shirt, letting it fall in a lump on the floor as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Feels as if all these years Tony had been tipped wrongly on the plane (from the moment Steve walked away from him, inch by toppling inch off the gradient) and now, right now, being where he is, feeling Steve under his own skin; he feels righted. Natasha still excuses herself to bathroom or somewhere from time to time (Tony knows she misses

<|output|> <|example|> care to pinpoint the time then. The second one, I felt it, in the bunker.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Natasha still excuses herself to bathroom or somewhere from time to time (Tony knows she misses <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Natasha still excuses herself to bathroom or somewhere from time to time (Tony knows she misses <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Steve’s smile widens and he ducks his head to hide a laugh <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Tony intercepts him with another kiss; a little sharp with teeth this time, murmuring, “Nu’uh <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> The thing is, Tony’s broken <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> “Are you writing the Warsaw one in Polish?” Bruce snickers in the background, but immediately schools his expression when Fury shoots him a glare <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> After Thanksgiving dinner, Tony spends a night in the compound <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> Feels as if all these years Tony had been tipped wrongly on the plane (from the moment Steve walked away from him, inch by toppling inch off the gradient) and now, right now, being where he is, feeling Steve under his own skin; he feels righted <|indexes|> 7 <|example|> “Don’t ever do that again <|indexes|> 8 8 <|example|> Tony intercepts him with another kiss; a little sharp with teeth this time, murmuring, “Nu’uh <|indexes|> 9 |

<|text|> Barton like a limb). “Hmm,” he hums. Then he asks, “May I?” Leaning in to inch the pointer on the colour contrast bar a little to the right when Tony gives a nod. He shouldn’t of course. It’s invading privacy. Steve Rogers may be his ex, but nobody deserves an invasion to their privacy. “Have them look at her.” Steve answers at the same time Tony says, “Not by herself of course.” As if Rhodey would even dare question that. Three months ago, he would have trouble believing it, but there he is, surrounded by Avengers 2.0 in the cusp of Rhodey and Pepper who brought along her role-playing – surprisingly shy – boy toy (okay fine, boyfriend, whatever). If he had shared the full story, the guy would have known. But he hasn’t and this man is not the vibrant sass master from upstate. He’s lacking vital information about Tony and it’s showing. But he sure does know how to mask it at least. There’s a war coming on; it’s somewhere near the horizon and Tony can almost taste it on his tongue, his bones ache from the revelations. There’s a prisoner of war two floors below who needs more than regular healing. Upstairs, his penthouse is in crumbles but that’s for next morning. Along with the calls he has to make to Pepper and Rhodey to elaborate what short-sentenced assurance Steve has given them when he was out of it. But that’s far, far later than now, when Tony still wakes up drenched in sweat, the clang of Vibranium against Arc Reactor ringing in his ears. Tony feels a pang of guilt in his chest. It’s not time to reflect, but he can’t help thinking back to the days when he’d be in a crowd and yet, feel so, incurably alone. “Wish you’d move back in,” Steve confesses as he passes a mug of tea after everybody else has gone to bed. recode JARVIS, but he chooses not to. FRIDAY will stay; his incredibly sassy and intelligent baby girl. It’s cold but at the same time, Tony’s warm. He lets his head fall over Steve’s strong shoulder, breathing him in lungsful. The compound is once again filled with people but what once used to a vibrant atmosphere seems to have been permanently robbed off of it ever since. Steve gives a concerned look in Tony’s direction but Tony refuses to meet his eyes. Whatever it is, this is He thinks she’s discerningly quiet. It tests the temper Tony thought he’d lost in the upstate of New York about a year ago. He tries to think of better ways to follow up that claim, but all he manages is a cliched, “We’re friends.” Despite everything they’ve gone through, Tony despises to lose this fragile truce over the doomed frailty of his heart. With his mountain of apologies which he keeps spewing no matter how many times Tony asks him not to, he loves Tony. Tony can only hope they’ll be wiser, thread the water more carefully, take their time to pause and wash away the mosses and rid of creeping barnacles so nothing piles up until when they stop and look back, their foundation

<|output|> <|example|> Barton like a limb). <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He tries to think of better ways to follow up that claim, but all he manages is a cliched, “We’re friends <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> recode JARVIS, but he chooses not to <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> With his mountain of apologies which he keeps spewing no matter how many times Tony asks him not to, he loves Tony <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> He shouldn’t of course <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> But he hasn’t and this man is not the vibrant sass master from upstate <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> “Wish you’d move back in,” Steve confesses as he passes a mug of tea after everybody else has gone to bed <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> There’s a war coming on; it’s somewhere near the horizon and Tony can almost taste it on his tongue, his bones ache from the revelations <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> had become a hideous thing. Like Tony’s and Steve’s. Tony doesn’t know exactly what contributed to that, but he hopes it’s good because it’s helping her. Once Tony’s finished, Pepper’s hums thoughtfully, digesting the load with sips of boxed orange juice, courtesy of DUM-E’s evolved sense of hospitality. Whether Steve deserves it or not, is not of importance because Tony’s beyond regretting his choices in life after seventeen. Tony doesn’t ask and Rhodey lets him go. But not before Tony catches the disappointment in Rhodey’s eyes. In Tony’s defence, he didn’t know someone else is already there when he opens the door to the workshop; seeking some time alone from everyone in his space. “And Warsaw,” Steve nods, letting Tony invade his space. He welcomes him, one hand gliding up Tony’s lower back, rubbing up and down soothingly as Tony peers at the monitor curiously. (Which is essentially a big build-yourself furniture shop. Might as well saw the woods himself and start, Bucky thinks, rather than spending hundreds for low quality planks. But Tony had been especially enthusiastic to bring him here so, Bucky came - would follow him to the pit of Hell even.) Tony shakes his head, no. But he got other problems swirling in his head at the moment. The first weekend with the Avengers is scheduled this week. He tells that to the man. Tony forces a smile out for him, revelling in the thought how less forceful and more natural it feels on his lips. “Doesn’t mean we’re weak. If anything, it only means we’re stronger. To realise that, admit to ourselves and ask for help.” Some kid screams 'language!' at the top of his lungs, tiny fingers pointing at Bucky, wild eyes looking at his mommy and Bucky turns just in time to receive dirty eyes from her. He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker. . Don’t come back that night. Tony didn’t expect them to. Natasha told him their location. Besides, the Council wouldn’t loosen their grip once they’ve had one on who they want and Tony knows all about that. And maybe that gives him the illusion of his once there but now dead rights, to push open the door to Steve’s unlocked room and take a dazed step inside. Tony picks it up and twirls it by its stem, standing up from the crouch before his knees start cramping. Steve’s tense, his hands balled up into tight fists on top of his thighs. Spine erect, painfully straight as if he’s waiting for an order. His head is turned to the window, jaw clenched and he’s giving the impression of gazing at the sky but really, he isn’t. In a weird, twisted, aching way. In a way where he knows well that the endgame will be annihilation, he wants to give Steve Rogers another chance. “Or, I kind of figured that there was something else going on between you and him.

<|output|> <|example|> had become a hideous thing. Like Tony’s and Steve’s. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Don’t come back that night <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The first weekend with the Avengers is scheduled this week <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> But he got other problems swirling in his head at the moment <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 <|example|> His head is turned to the window, jaw clenched and he’s giving the impression of gazing at the sky but really, he isn’t <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He welcomes him, one hand gliding up Tony’s lower back, rubbing up and down soothingly as Tony peers at the monitor curiously <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Like Tony’s and Steve’s <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> His head is turned to the window, jaw clenched and he’s giving the impression of gazing at the sky but really, he isn’t <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> But he got other problems swirling in his head at the moment <|indexes|> 7 7 <|example|> ” Some kid screams 'language!' at the top of his lungs, tiny fingers pointing at Bucky, wild eyes looking at his mommy and Bucky turns just in time to receive dirty eyes from her <|indexes|> 8 |

<|text|> Which was why,” She pauses and inhales sharply. It’s alright to hurt sometimes, especially when it comes to these things. That’s what he had learnt in the year he’d been recuperating; trying to find himself against all odds. He takes a moment to sit with that thought, holding onto his mug of coffee as he stares into space and he smiles, a little smile just for himself – for how far he’d come from the broken man he once was. He doesn’t remember most of it but when he does, he’s been in a recovery home (milder version of psychiatric hospital) with five other well-to-do people like him, a receptionist who shares the mansion along with two doctors and two nurses, and it has been a month in there. as he is right now, he cannot even break his own fall if he’s to fall, so how can he try to catch Steve in the process? He can’t. He really can’t. There’re no gates surrounding her heart when she’s around them these days. Especially since Barnes, and that’s a beautiful thing Tony’s been blessed to watch. “It’s not like that.” He tells her, once everyone has gone with their business leaving only the two of them in the kitchen. And Tony nods, a lump grating in his throat. Then he realises that Rhodey cannot see him and he says, “Same here, buddy.” He’d woken up late that day, not as much sense of time as he has these days. Steve had woken up early, been to Christmas mass and prepared a small feast for brunch; just the two of them – he’d left the team and his one chance to experience their first Christmas at the compound to usher his irresponsible boyfriend into bed and spend a quiet Christmas day with him instead. Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him. With that question, Tony pockets back the autumn washed leaf and makes his way into the kitchen. If he’s lucky, Natasha will be waiting with another mug of her pretty tea. The defeat that had weighed down Steve seems to evaporate the moment he comprehends what Tony just said. Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and - They never dared to cling as they did that night in Xavier’s mansion. Thus far, they’ve only held hands, intertwined fingers and when Tony had been about to leave, they had shared gradually snugger hugs. He uses that to blast Tony off; widespread purple ray hitting him straight in the chest, he thinks for a blinding second, that this maybe Bucky snorts and Tony knows he may try all he might but he could never cross that line Howard stood on; his physicality is such. His cells metabolize

<|output|> <|example|> Which was why,” She pauses and inhales sharply. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Especially since Barnes, and that’s a beautiful thing Tony’s been blessed to watch <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> And Tony nods, a lump grating in his throat <|indexes|> 1 |

<|text|> alcohol too rapidly for Bucky to drown in it. He may sink but he can never drown. It’s nice to hear joy radiated with such exuberance that you can feel it as your own. He credits it to youth. He probably sounded just like Shuri, once. Maybe Rhodey remembers. They’ve been at it for thirty minutes. He’d shared the story about the battle in Wakanda very briefly; compact and short. “I recall you suggesting I move on.” Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “This is me, moving on.” It marked another shift in Iron Man’s relationship with the Avengers. And if Tony became particularly susceptible to Captain Rogers, with his earnest expressions and too-gentle actions and too-blue eyes… They managed to intercept him on a raid of a Stark Industries warehouse. It was one of only a few remaining stockpiles of Sonic Paralyzers. The component, originally intended for human combatants, had been adapted to form the core of “Droid Killer” weapons Tony had already spent years cleaning up from dark web markets. They managed to surprise him enough that he was forced to flee without finishing the job, a delay which required nearly two months to correct. She knew as well as he did that there was a full minute remaining before the final rack was naught but not-quite-literal ash. “Protracted contact with the limb will increase the severity of the injury, likely elevating to third degree burns should the contact persist.” Androids were the menial laborers that never quit, never complained. They were, by definition, disposable. They had enough processing power to emulate humanity, without any of the pesky legal protections or provisions their human counterparts required. Androids ran shopping kiosks. Directed traffic flows. Maintained parks and utility services; babysat children and minded nurseries. Provided hospice care and staffed nursing homes; cataloged libraries and staffed hotlines and delivered mail. No more arguments; no impossible to believe promises; no elaborate affirmations of support and camaraderie and liberty and justice for all. Just an offer; an outstretched hand if only Tony could bring himself to take it. One and all, left to slowly bake in the merciless desert suns until their stressed cooling systems sputtered and shuttered to a stop for good. Mesquite Regional was a four thousand acre behemoth in the desert outside Los Angeles. Originally designed to succeed the overflowing Puente Hills landfill as the de facto dumping group for the county, the project sat abandoned and unused until an influx of broken and discarded androids made the expensive “trash train” line to the site economical for the first time. Iron Man powered his repulsor, raised his hand, and turned in one smooth motion. The powerful light of his arc reactor flared to both blind and illuminate the unknown intruder, who recoiled instinctively before— “Captain! What a pleasant surprise!” Tony greeted, repulsors primed but not yet pointed at the man. “If you don’t mind, my horoscope this morning warned of an agoraphobia-induced brain hemorrhage should I stay out too long. I’m starting to feel a bit of a tingle in my prefrontal cortex, so…” They were a team of soldiers and assassins coated in a

<|output|> <|example|> alcohol too rapidly for Bucky to drown in it. He may sink but he can never drown. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> It marked another shift in Iron Man’s relationship with the Avengers. And if Tony became particularly susceptible to Captain Rogers, with his earnest expressions and too-gentle actions and too-blue eyes… <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> Originally designed to succeed the overflowing Puente Hills landfill as the de facto dumping group for the county, the project sat abandoned and unused until an influx of broken and discarded androids made the expensive “trash train” line to the site economical for the first time <|indexes|> 0 |

<|text|> public-friendly veneer of heroism. While they didn’t quite reach comic book levels of gimmick with their public relations campaigns and attire, they each came with their own iconic almost-kid-friendly “looks”. Thor with his electroshock projectile XREP weapon nicknamed Mjolnir, for example. Or Hawkeye, who supplemented his more standard array of dagger, semi-automatics, and trench knives with a collection of surprisingly effective modern crossbows. “...And that’s it? What, not going to try to convince me, to placate me with empty promises to go with that Tony’s systems coupled with that of his armor, optimized for such calculations on an exponentially greater scale, knew the precise path and trajectory each fragment would take before the bulb had fully shattered. Rogers clearly hadn’t come prepared for a fight. He was out of uniform, dressed in worn jeans, faded t-shirt, and sturdy work boots. Scans revealed that he lacked even a cell phone on his person, let alone any of the advanced gadgetry and hardware that were part and parcel to the Avenger aesthetic. Despite his disadvantages, Steve held his own in their game of cat-and-mouse. He appropriated the inner hub of a sealed manhole as a seventy-five pound shield against Tony’s attacks. Rosie shuddered. For a moment, Tony thought it was a final gasp before she joined her fellow Traci in oblivion. “Socket’s fused,” Barnes said, quietly enough that Tony doubted he was meant to catch the words. “Pretty soon it ain’t even gonna hurt anymore.” But as infuriating as the delays may be, Tony found himself almost… looking forward… to the encounters. A few times, when the target in question was unequivocally Bad News or the Avengers got themselves into a spot of trouble on a mission that That humanity remained the workforce of choice for certain roles even where most companies had long since outsourced to android staff had been occasionally noted but rarely remarked upon. They needed something—anything—that might, if not camouflage, at least temporarily divert attention from the obvious conclusions to be drawn from Iron Man’s presence near giving the Avengers the opportunity to dismantle or disrupt the bomb already half-assembled in his mind’s eye. The same Avengers that now considered him a volatile, unrepentant serial killer on top of his many, Without the literal yards of concrete and earth between himself and the surface to dampen it, the destruction might level Midtown in its entirety. He reminded himself of this as, after two hours and thirty-seven minutes of analysis, he came across his first salvageable android. In deep hibernation mode rested an AJ-200. Because When Tony finally began his escape, his exit was barred by none other than Captain Steve Rogers of the Avengers. Also known as Captain America. Also known as Iron Man’s arch-nemesis. Today was one of the rare days that Tony found himself physically in his office on the executive floor of Stark Tower. Although, considering he’d found himself here every day this week thus far, perhaps “rare” was a bit disingenuous at this point. Death camps and genocide dressed up as “processing and recycling centers” to deactivate and decommission “flawed electronics”. And you—the overwhelming majority of so-called The subsequent fight was vicious.

<|output|> <|example|> public-friendly veneer of heroism. While they didn’t quite reach comic book levels of gimmick with their public relations campaigns and attire, they each came with their own iconic almost-kid-friendly “looks”. Thor with his electroshock projectile XREP weapon nicknamed Mjolnir, for example. Or Hawkeye, who supplemented his more standard array of dagger, semi-automatics, and trench knives with a collection of surprisingly effective modern crossbows. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He was out of uniform, dressed in worn jeans, faded t-shirt, and sturdy work boots <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> He reminded himself of this as, after two hours and thirty-seven minutes of analysis, he came across his first salvageable android <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> Although, considering he’d found himself here every day this week thus far, perhaps “rare” was a bit disingenuous at this point <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> He was out of uniform, dressed in worn jeans, faded t-shirt, and sturdy work boots <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> “Socket’s fused,” Barnes said, quietly enough that Tony doubted he was meant to catch the words <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> He reminded himself of this as, after two hours and thirty-seven minutes of analysis, he came across his first salvageable android <|indexes|> 5 |

<|text|> The Avengers had found him on private property, looming over the body of a fresh homicide victim clad only in boxers. His raised gauntlet was good as a smoking gun. Even This fic was originally slated to be a oneshot just under 4k words. Let's just agree that whoever said brevity is the soul of wit clearly never had to deal with Tony Stark. Or Steve Rogers, for that matter. Underneath the staircase descending into the cellar of Mother Moretta’s Haven, a homeless shelter and soup kitchen in Brooklyn, there was an unmarked door. It opened to a long-neglected and cluttered miscellaneous storage closet. The matron of the shelter, Gloria Rhodes, Honestly, if Tony was half the terrorist CyberLife or the DHS claimed, he could have been in and out minutes ago. Mass confinement took infinitely longer than mass executions, for one. Likewise, his targeted attack quite literally melted down the servers to their constituent elements then rapid-cooled them via liquid nitrogen. It took far more finesse than, say, dropping a bomb on the building and hoping for the best. Through it all, Tony had multiple chances to deliver a lethal blow. Even the least deadly of integrated targeted missiles could have killed Steve and ended the fight in a gory instant. Rogers doesn’t bother, making it clear that he’s only in here because he wanted to corner Tony. “Do you have another copy?” He asks, glancing at the shifting numbers as the elevator moves and he turns to Tony urgently, “The other me. He said something and I -,” he pauses, blue eyes bright and searching and Tony tries hard not to blink, as surprised as he is by this new information. Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat and Tony glances at it distractedly, promptly snapping back to the sea of blue; now bleeding black, inside out. “They’re yours. You didn’t eat your lunch,” Steve hands the box to him, and a bottle of water. “Wash them first.” Tony gulps. Okay, he decides. He looks up a little more until he meets Bucky’s concerned eyes and he realises for real why he cannot do this at all. Why he cannot ask Bucky for that hug. Except his reason used to be a prisoner of war with a fuck ton load of issues that could make his own look microscopical in comparison - which we're not doing here because asking whose pain is worse is just a shitty thing to do in general but it gives a perspective as to why he's slumped against the glass panel, eyes glazed staring at the lone couch in their living room looking severely intoxicated. “Breathe.” He tells him, eyes still closed, and when Steve does, visibly sagging into the bed, Tony lets his lips stretch into a smile for him. She says, yes. “But I suggest we wait. This particular group takes two weeks before its effects are seen and it’ll be a set back if you decide to change to something else now.” Either Rogers had this planned out, the tactical genius he is, or he lost his patience. Both are possible. Neither, though, helps Tony

<|output|> <|example|> The Avengers had found him on private property, looming over the body of a fresh homicide victim clad only in boxers. His raised gauntlet was good as a smoking gun. Even <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Rogers doesn’t bother, making it clear that he’s only in here because he wanted to corner Tony. “Do you have another copy?” He asks, glancing at the shifting numbers as the elevator moves and he turns to Tony urgently, “The other me. He said something and I -,” he pauses, blue eyes bright and searching and Tony tries hard not to blink, as surprised as he is by this new information. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> The Avengers had found him on private property, looming over the body of a fresh homicide victim clad only in boxers <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> She says, yes <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Rogers doesn’t bother, making it clear that he’s only in here because he wanted to corner Tony <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> The Avengers had found him on private property, looming over the body of a fresh homicide victim clad only in boxers <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> ” Either Rogers had this planned out, the tactical genius he is, or he lost his patience <|indexes|> 4 |

<|text|> when Rogers corners him just outside the workshop post Saturday dinner. Sam flanks her when she’s alone. Rhodey watches her with increasingly worrying eyes. So does Steve. And as for Barnes, he’s pale and stoic in her presence. “I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.” Tony twists to glance over his shoulder – refusing to ruin the perfect comfort he’d achieved to sleep – at the window Steve never bothers to hang a curtain over because he likes looking out of it at the lake that expands beyond the compound. Obviously, no one can look inside, and it helps get him in the mood when he’s sketching. Steve doesn’t even bother to sympathize Tony, merely walking towards Rhodey with his stupid smile and his stupid happy face. For a man with broken arm, it’s an over stretch. The way he behaves at the issue is so not Rhodey and Tony suffers a brain fart before he remembers what Steve mentioned one night and he puts two and two together and – “I hurt you.” Steve argues, his own face tucked into Tony’s bare shoulder, painting a cold, wet trail down the crook of his neck. “JARVIS texted me, Tony. I may be technologically inept but I know when it’s you texting me and when you’re asking JARVIS to do it. You’ve been avoiding me -,” Steve opens his mouth, probably to say, it’s fine and that Wakanda doesn’t have to do this for them but Sam shuts him up with a scrunched-up paper ball that goes straight into his open mouth. Steve still coloured, the way he does around Tony. Because Steve is stupid and in love with Tony just as much as Tony is enraptured by him and oh, look – Isn’t it, time for a toast! He didn’t run though. He doesn’t intend to run. He just needs a minute to calm the crash of wave in his nervous system, a moment to get himself together, so he backtracks that one step he took into the workshop, lets the door slide close while he glues his spine to the wall and breathes. He tears his gaze away from the white ceiling to look at the man curled around him. The sudden inaction from Tony seems to make him stir in his sleep as he makes a small sound and butts his head up into Tony’s hand. He waits until he’s jolted from the act of it – Come aware, with the questions; what, why - floating in his head and he decides enough is enough. Rogers’ jaw clenches. Defined angle with soft lining of facial muscle. Tony remembers thinking about them a lot. A long, long time ago. Tony straightens up, pulling out a chair. With a prompt, “May I?” He sits himself because ageing makes him exhausted and weary all the damn time. Tony listened but couldn’t bring himself to care. He focused all of that into perfecting his new armour and now that it’s done and Pepper is here, he’s actually nervous about

<|output|> <|example|> when Rogers corners him just outside the workshop post Saturday dinner. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He focused all of that into perfecting his new armour and now that it’s done and Pepper is here, he’s actually nervous about <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “But you refused <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Steve doesn’t even bother to sympathize Tony, merely walking towards Rhodey with his stupid smile and his stupid happy face <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> I may be technologically inept but I know when it’s you texting me and when you’re asking JARVIS to do it <|indexes|> 3 |

<|text|> it all. Tony stands, with his back against the bathroom door, he takes in the nervous way Steve looks at him. Pepper grabs the remote and pauses the damned show. Her slim body shifts as she turns to face Tony, her own ice cream bowl going on top of the coffee table as she wraps her arms around her midriff and looks at Tony expectantly. “Think we apologised for everything in the past.” Barnes says softly. Almost as if he doesn’t believe his own words. As if he’s asking Tony a question. T’Challa apparently finds him amusing, because he laughs for the second time in row at something Tony said. The more Tony answers, the more genuinely interested he starts to be about the mechanics of the armour. It's a fresh perspective which blunts all of Steve's sharp angles, makes him look softer, more vulnerable, stirring a different kind of protective instinct within Tony. Once all the leftovers are refrigerated and the rubbish discarded. They’re both nursing a tub of ice cream. Sunday brunch and she has her back turned to him before he leaves the gift on top of the dining table and drives back to the tower. A flying donut enters the atmosphere threatening earth’s safety while Tony’s stands gobsmacked, his armour collecting dust in the basement of his California mansion. When he looks up, he’s smiling ruefully, not the smile that Tony wants to ever see on his face for him, “Oh, hey. I tried to rip out your power supply. And I killed your parents. Think I earned it. Sides, didn’t we already apologise?” Barnes tries for a smile. Steve’s flushed face gives way to a smile and Tony responds in kind, his own blood whooshing everywhere out of control, before he recalls the reason he is actually there for. Something stutters in his chest and for a brief moment, he thinks of the broken pieces of his heart before he remembers that the vault is now, empty. But something. Something It’s his fault. He – He chewed on Rogers nerves. Uncalled for, never mind how long the issue has been brimming. Exasperated fondness so familiar in the way he says it, but the heavy tinge of darkness there… that makes it a distinct stranger to his ears. 2014, Christmas, hot chocolate, vanilla ice cream, heat cranked up high in the workshop, fleece blanket strewn over couch as Steve sketched what he pleased. Scent of old book mingled with metal, pain smeared over wrench; belongings blending in, there may have been long lingering looks between chattering. Besides, it’s not like it’s so hard after all. Communicating without words is damn fucking easy especially when you have nothing to say. “Yeah. But…,” Steve trails off, pinning the last roll and dropping it with the other on the floor. He looks up at Tony, hunching forward in the bench and clasping his hands in front. Peggy turns to look at him and she blinks. Something shifts in her eyes and the next second, she’s slapping him hard across the face. That the Council is a mess of split views; between pardons and focusing on the recent attack and arresting them for a list of crimes

<|output|> <|example|> it all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> He – He chewed on Rogers nerves <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Tony stands, with his back against the bathroom door, he takes in the nervous way Steve looks at him <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Sides, didn’t we already apologise?” Barnes tries for a smile <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 <|example|> Scent of old book mingled with metal, pain smeared over wrench; belongings blending in, there may have been long lingering looks between chattering <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> Think I earned it <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Once all the leftovers are refrigerated and the rubbish discarded <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> He – He chewed on Rogers nerves <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> A flying donut enters the atmosphere threatening earth’s safety while Tony’s stands gobsmacked, his armour collecting dust in the basement of his California mansion <|indexes|> 7 |

<|text|> Thunderbolt Ross himself had overseen the draft to. Curiosity leads Tony to the Rambeau’s abode. There, he finds Monica, daughter of Maria, who was Carol’s best friend. He reached the tower before the sun went down with anxious energy and general distrust at his own self, so he clicked some buttons and got Pepper to come over. The days when the entire universe revolved only around Steve and him. When every blink of Steve’s blue eyes meant something to him. When every careless word that slipped past Tony’s lips meant something to Steve. He sucks his bottom lip in and a breath with it too, then carefully, he enunciates so Steve doesn’t miss the point. “Steve. It’s – five – to - six.” prompt: One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss prompt: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed. His deep sigh is an open-mouthed hot breath that collects wetly over Tony’s skin. A beat or two or maybe thirty passed before Tony feels warm, wet lips skim across his skin, wrecking shudder down his spine and he stiffens abruptly. He stops typing to look at Tony when Tony lets the silent simmer. “What?” He chuckles. “You sure are getting entertained by this.” He catches Steve’s impressed eyes and preens inwardly, carrying on with the details about their conditions, management and their contribution to society and the world by proxy. In answer, Steve kisses him back; deep, walking them until Tony’s back hits the wall, head cushioned under Steve’s palm, fingers twining through his hair and he licks into Tony’s mouth, whispers his firm ‘yes’ in there and everywhere over Tony’s face. What he doesn’t tell her is, within Broken People Club, there will be a subunit; Empty Souls. And he doesn’t think there will be anyone else in there except for him. Pepper still hasn’t given any comments to indicate she already knows what’s going on. It’s pretty unbecoming of her, if Tony is to say anything about it. “No problem, sweetheart,” he whispers into damp curls, combs them back again and kisses the exposed skin. Then he looks Bucky in the eyes and says seriously, “We’re calling Jo tomorrow morning.” Jo being Dr Josephine Iyer. “This is so not how I imagined it.” Tony pulls away. He wastes two seconds glaring at his useless left arm and goes back in. Steve snorts, blue eyes flicking up from beneath his lashes and he gives a little shove so Tony would sit. There’s nothing to hide or more like, he doesn’t feel like hiding anymore. He lets her and she goes for only what she needs. That’s the difference isn’t it? Steve rigid shoulders slump in defeat. Tony pulls up a chair and sits opposite him. He watches the way Steve’s lips purse and tremble when he huffs. He listens to the words they push out. He takes a step back and watches every flicker of emotions that flit across Steve’s face; from relief to horror

<|output|> <|example|> Thunderbolt Ross himself had overseen the draft to. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Thunderbolt Ross himself had overseen the draft to <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> In answer, Steve kisses him back; deep, walking them until Tony’s back hits the wall, head cushioned under Steve’s palm, fingers twining through his hair and he licks into Tony’s mouth, whispers his firm ‘yes’ in there and everywhere over Tony’s face <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> That’s the difference isn’t it? Steve rigid shoulders slump in defeat <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> He sucks his bottom lip in and a breath with it too, then carefully, he enunciates so Steve doesn’t miss the point <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He stops typing to look at Tony when Tony lets the silent simmer <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> ” Jo being Dr Josephine Iyer <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> ” Tony pulls away <|indexes|> 6 <|example|> His deep sigh is an open-mouthed hot breath that collects wetly over Tony’s skin <|indexes|> 7 7 |

<|text|> to determination. So when he lashes; snatches his hand roughly from Tony’s and stands up, staggering, before he walks only to stop a few feet away, lost - Tony, doesn’t get mad at him. “Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,” Rhodey, Sam and Bruce are next, leaving Tony helping Steve with piling leftovers into containers and doing the storing as well as the cleaning up. Tony keeps one arm protectively over Steve’s shoulder, the other running sure fingers through his hair. What would have once been a bitter realisation, is now an acceptable one. Tony has realised, he knows and continues to learn that the two of them revolve around each other come high or tide. Tony’s hands shake, and he’s pretty sure Pepper’s too. They sit in that sinking heaviness, wallowing for a minute; letting the cloud fill out, let the stale past wash out. Tony opens his mouth, a long winding explanation on gene mutation and influence of the mind stone ready on his tongue. But he bites it back and shrugs instead. “You can say that.” Steve Rogers loves and he hurts and he begs for forgiveness. His Achilles heel is Tony Stark and Tony Stark wasn’t even made aware of that. He doesn’t know how long they’ve stayed like that but it definitely feels short when Bucky starts to pull away. This is why, Tony thinks. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of - Why he decided to not ask Bucky for hug earlier. Death and life, colliding, making a mess out of his life; laughed while he stumbled and fell and stood up, but they kept pushing him again. He pulls Steve with him as Steve gives, tumbling slightly into his designated room, while the man himself follows him dumbly. That’s how bad it is. That’s how low he’d landed and frankly, he doesn’t even care or want to get up from there. Because, once again. He drags the digit down with a regretful sigh. For some things that he wants, there’ll be a time and place for them. This is not it. “For you people? Nothing,” Fury spits. “SHIELD will handle this from now on. You can help with the clean up.” Tony simply smiles, because he’d thought about it of course. How badly could Steve Rogers’ big, shiny heart could have been damaged compared to Tony’s void. Silence seems to swallow them both for a while. The air heavy with more than the singe of metal and the smell of motor oil. Pepper huffs and puffs, her fingers reach for his and give a squeeze, but she indulges him amidst it all. “Are you both gon’ keep doing this thing you’re so keen on doing?” Fury asks, teeth gritting on ‘keen’ as he glares at Steve. The World Council prints out rules and regulations; nothing too new but even the old ones can be disarming. Swallowing against the swelling lump in his throat, Tony throws a harried glance at Barnes before bolting out of the area. Tony waits till everyone is off the jet before he steps out but immediately gets the scare of his life when a

<|output|> <|example|> to determination. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> For some things that he wants, there’ll be a time and place for them <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Tony opens his mouth, a long winding explanation on gene mutation and influence of the mind stone ready on his tongue <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Pepper huffs and puffs, her fingers reach for his and give a squeeze, but she indulges him amidst it all <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Pending on the prognosis <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> Pepper huffs and puffs, her fingers reach for his and give a squeeze, but she indulges him amidst it all <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> That’s how bad it is <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> Silence seems to swallow them both for a while <|indexes|> 6 |

<|text|> bright yellow ball of energy makes a landing right in front of him. Rogers’ patience is worn thin by ever Sunday evening and mostly, he just shuts up. Sometimes, the gym is occupied with only him inside. For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after. And Tony can hear the smirk in his voice even if he couldn’t quite see it alright. He wants to throw the wrench at him, childishly. Surely, a minute after, as Tony indulges in a second sip of hibiscus tea, Barnes clears his throat, drawing his attention before he walks away, Natasha following him with a gentle brush down Tony’s arm. He knows how much power that blue glow in his chest – now, and almost all the time, hidden behind his under-suit – holds over their tentative attempts to reconcile. He knows. Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness. you blame me? You did see her, didn’t you? She’s all power. She can top me anytime she wants Tony, I swear.” He stays long enough to touch Rhodey’s arm out of the armour while he still wears his and Rhodey understands; the brother that he is. “Does that mean you didn’t know better before?” his now doctor asks and Tony hides a smile as he ducks his head down. Steve brings his hand for an unannounced kiss and murmurs into the skin, “Consider it payback for keeping Danvers a secret,” he winks. He hears some hushed conversation in the kitchen. Curiosity makes him lean against the wall, letting his aged ears pick up trail ends of the whispered argument. A tangled-up mess where you can’t even find where the beginning or the end is, and Tony doesn’t know if he’s ready to deal with that magnitude of ‘moving-on’ yet. He wonders if they were still together, would Steve leave the team for a getaway Christmas with Tony in Switzerland for a change. “Hmm.” She hums thoughtfully. Then she announces, like it’s yesterday’s weather; “James told me what happened today.” He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen. “Hey, tell me how the date went.” He engages her, hoping he’ll buy himself enough distraction to push away the prototype of Captain America’s shield lying just beneath the stack of paper – Ah. No luck then. They’ve invited Wanda to sit through the plan but she declines, opting to leave them to it. Sam followed her, Tony hopes they’re back making candles or something akin. He loathes to have her be alone in the state she is. He knows he had hurt her today. He knows that she hurts a bit every time they meet. But she’s determined to make it up with him and to

<|output|> <|example|> bright yellow ball of energy makes a landing right in front of him. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Hey, tell me how the date went <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> be honest, Tony doesn’t know how much longer he can last before he caves in. Tony remembers asking for one not too long ago. He’d received his help and he’s really fucking grateful for it. He only wishes the same can be said for Wanda. Not after Barnes boldly asked to speak to Tony in private on Tony’s very first day back as if to prove that he wasn’t afraid to get in an enclosed space with only Tony and himself. He pulls out the chair opposite Steve who has his head ducked down, eyes trained bleakly on the wooden table. He makes a mental note to bring this problem up during his next appointment. As for now, he can only hope that it miraculously stops soon. The need to know to that question had been growing like weed in the back of Tony’s head since Pepper reminded him of Steve’s visit. He ignored it, trusting the strained equation between them to be the saving grace. He remembers Natasha having a good rapport with her before but now it appears as if Natasha is carefully avoiding her. Barnes shrugs. Tony bites the inside of his cheek, sinking into the nearest chair with a frown on his face. “About Wanda.” Tony starts cautiously, pulse picking up, anticipating Steve to bark at him to shut up about Wanda. And this, a missed calculation. A mishap. Especially after the progressively strained way in which Rogers and him have been acting around each other after “I don’t trust them.” Tony murmurs, tapping away at codes, infiltrating yet another layer of security in the SHIELD’s dark system. That’s what he dubs it based on its unusuality and how discretely it was hidden. At least, before Tony spotted the layers and started digging. For both her and him. But sometimes, in the norm of helping one from themself, killing one’s old self is inevitable for a new, refined version to rise from its ashes. He gets to the part of talking Barnes through what he’s repairing in the damaged armour when Barnes slips in a tid-bit. He fixed himself a cup of coffee; poured it into a mug and held it close to his chest. The aroma itself provided warmth, and he clung onto that. He doesn’t even drink coffee. Never got used to the taste. But there was warmth and there was the scent he associated close to home and it helped. He nods. Says, “Sure.” And he smiles at Rhodey with ease as he leads Barnes to somewhere private, as per his request. Wilson and Wanda are on his tail, both wearing an identical smirk. Tony feels the impulse to kiss Steve just to aggravate Rhodey, but then he realises with shuddering chills down his spine, just what he had thought about; so easily, without any repulsion. It snaps his mouth shut and his body melts on its own accord just as his arms move to wrap around Bucky’s bulky torso. Natasha washes while Tony voluntarily wipes the dishes before stacking them up on the counter to be stored away after. He worries about Bruce. He admits that to him a few days later, watching

<|output|> <|example|> be honest, Tony doesn’t know how much longer he can last before he caves in. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> But sometimes, in the norm of helping one from themself, killing one’s old self is inevitable for a new, refined version to rise from its ashes <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> He gets to the part of talking Barnes through what he’s repairing in the damaged armour when Barnes slips in a tid-bit <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Especially after the progressively strained way in which Rogers and him have been acting around each other after “I don’t trust them <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> He nods <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Especially after the progressively strained way in which Rogers and him have been acting around each other after “I don’t trust them <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> ” Tony murmurs, tapping away at codes, infiltrating yet another layer of security in the SHIELD’s dark system <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> But there was warmth and there was the scent he associated close to home and it helped <|indexes|> 6 <|example|> As for now, he can only hope that it miraculously stops soon <|indexes|> 7 7 <|example|> But there was warmth and there was the scent he associated close to home and it helped <|indexes|> 8 8 <|example|> Tony feels the impulse to kiss Steve just to aggravate Rhodey, but then he realises with shuddering chills down his spine, just what he had thought about; so easily, without any repulsion <|indexes|> 9 |

<|text|> the man mess up another measurement in the test tube and he asks with careful casualty, “Is something bothering you?” “Steve Rogers dedicated his mind, his body, his life to the SSR and to this country. Not to your bank account.” Peggy snarls, her shaky voice breaking in anger even as she holds composed under Steve’s hands. Charles is expecting them there for brunch. There’ll be some introductions, orientations and if all things go well, they’ll discuss boarding, probably stay the night and be back by the next noon. If they’re not interested, they won’t be overstaying their welcome. They’ll be back before the day ends. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?” he asks, pretty face screwed up looking all adorable. Steve smiles back frailly, eyes darting to the bowl of steamed eggs and back to Tony, his smile tighter as he goes back to eating. Tony deliberately takes a step away from him, putting a safe distance in between them. Steve’s smile doesn’t falter a bit, neither does Tony’s glare. He wanted to ask her if she’s trying to see whether he’s planning to take on the same path as Barton by telling him about it. He didn’t in the end. Tony’s hand mapped a journey from the tips of Steve’s fingers, over the length of his arm and up his back and he held Steve by his nape, kissed him until he’s breathless and he whispered, “The feeling’s mutual.” “Oh, c’mon. I have to know all of Rhodey’s torrid affair,” He nudges Steve’s cheek gently with the hand he’d kissed. Takes him back to the workshop in the compound when Steve told him how he’s still in love with Tony. And by the look of it, Steve hasn’t forgotten about that. Tony swallows a spoonful on Samgyetang feeling something flutter in his chest. Tony shakes his head, serious. He takes the last cherry between his forefinger and thumb, holds it up to Steve’s face. “Open your mouth,” he says, and it almost gets lost in the wind. “Not scared. Just surprised,” Steve says, taking his hand out of the water and cupping Tony’s face with it. Tony takes Steve’s wrist, just like that morning, and this time he doesn’t flinch back, he does the opposite, in fact: he leans in, and presses his forehead to Steve’s while he keeps caressing Tony’s face with his big, wet hand. . Which, okay, is not something Tony is planning on complaining about any time soon, obviously, but then Steve pushes him down on the couch, looms over him, smiles at him in this strange way that’s both wolfish and charming at the same time, puts his hand over Tony’s crotch, and Tony’s sure even through the sweatpants Steve can feel that his cock is, well. Soft. “I know, don’t say anything, there’s no need. I just wanted to say it,” Steve clarifies in a calm voice that seemed impossible just a moment ago. “I just wanted you to know,” he says in the end, and the last thing Tony thinks before falling back asleep in Steve’s warm embrace, is that this is selfish in the

<|output|> <|example|> the man mess up another measurement in the test tube and he asks with careful casualty, “Is something bothering you?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Tony shakes his head, serious. He takes the last cherry between his forefinger and thumb, holds it up to Steve’s face. “Open your mouth,” he says, and it almost gets lost in the wind. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?” he asks, pretty face screwed up looking all adorable <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> If they’re not interested, they won’t be overstaying their welcome <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> “Not scared <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Tony’s hand mapped a journey from the tips of Steve’s fingers, over the length of his arm and up his back and he held Steve by his nape, kissed him until he’s breathless and he whispered, “The feeling’s mutual <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> “Open your mouth,” he says, and it almost gets lost in the wind <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> He didn’t in the end <|indexes|> 5 |

<|text|> most altruistic way, and altruistic in the most selfish way. Stella hugs Steve too, kisses his cheek just like she did with Tony, and whispers something in his ear too, but Tony can’t ear what it is. That’s alright, though. He tells the truth. Confesses it all to Steve, cries against his chest, lets Steve hug him tight and kiss his hair while he shakes out of sheer rage, because this is so “Bossy. I like it,” Tony teases while he does as Steve says. “Spoken like the true leader of the Avengers.” The penthouse is a mess. The kitchen area is hopeless. He should burn the whole tower down, build a new one. But then he’d have to explain things to the superheroes currently using it as their base. “Now you’re just insulting my intelligence,” Rhodey had replied, and Tony had to concede the point and let himself be hugged. He squeezed his eyes and pretended he wasn’t tearing up. Tony cries out in surprise while his body shakes as much as Steve allows it to. He can’t possibly take Steve’s fingers on top of the half-formed knot; it’s starting to hurt and the stretch is too much, so much more than what Tony can tolerate right now. Steve grunts and takes his fingers out of Tony’s hole, bringing his hand in front of Tony’s face and just waiting, his forefinger and middle finger glistening with Tony’s slick all over them. In the bedroom, Tony finds Steve already dressed in his sleep clothes. He opens a drawer in his bedside table and takes out a pair of his silk boxers, puts them on quickly, then sits down on the bed. Steve is about to speak when Tony jumps to his feet, grabs some clothes from his bag, and locks himself in the bathroom without saying a word, without even looking at Steve. He falls to his knees on the gravel, water still lapping at his feet, and Tony scrambles to kneel in front of him, still touching his face, and Steve feels so cold, so cold, he’s never been so cold… He looks at the glossy-black Stark logo on the back of the phone, brushes his thumb over it, watches it change color with the natural grease on his fingertip. He upgraded recently, but it’s not one of the latest models. He doesn’t like the see-through screen in his office at the compound, and he doesn’t want one as a phone. “In Wakanda. I’ll keep him safe. I owe him that.” T'Challa doesn’t look at Tony while he says this, but Tony understands. He figures Wakandans do, too. “She told me this morning that she has a friend who’d take it. To sell it at the market. We could fill a couple of crates for her.” Tony looks at Steve’s face, twisted in desperation, he looks lost and dangerous, devastated, distraught. He looks young. He’s been crying, he’s sobbing now. “Tony and I realized pretty soon that while the Pym Particles could help us get into the prison, they’d be useless to access the cells. They’re shielded in a way that… you just need the

<|output|> <|example|> most altruistic way, and altruistic in the most selfish way. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Confesses it all to Steve, cries against his chest, lets Steve hug him tight and kiss his hair while he shakes out of sheer rage, because this is so “Bossy <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> But then he’d have to explain things to the superheroes currently using it as their base <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> I owe him that <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> code, and…” , he gets it, and Tony nods and quickly averts his gaze, which, okay. Steve braces himself on the wall and starts fucking Tony’s mouth, gently but determined, careful but with no hesitation. “What did you name her?” Steve asks, without looking at Tony. His shoulders have sagged a bit, in something that Tony classifies as defeat. He looks heartbroken, and that’s when Tony notices it. Roses. It’s always been roses with Steve. They’re blue in Tony’s mind. Something that doesn’t exist in nature, something that had to be manipulated by man and science to be made. Something that wasn’t any less beautiful in its original form. That night, while he’s in bed, Tony looks down at Steve, wrapped up in a sleeping bag on the floor. He had it in his duffle; Tony watched him take it out and spread it on the rug without a word. They talk about Tony’s new idea for a while, the one Tony texted him about earlier. He has questions, and Tony answers them all. He has never seen it before. Tony didn’t have it in Berlin, when his silk shirt was unbuttoned, his red tie loosened, and his vest hugged his hips in the most enticing way. The arch of his shoulders. His hands in his pockets, stretching the fabric of his pants over his... while he walked away... Tony licks his lips. God, how he wishes he could have some wine right now, take the edge off of whatever this day has been. “I liked visiting the cities with you. I know sometimes I get bored, I can’t help it... but I’m glad you were having fun.” Tony looks at him like he’s asking for some sort of permission to go on, like they can still come back from this, he can say his knees just gave up on him, apologize, pretend he didn’t mean it, pretend it never happened. Steve looks up at him, quickly, afraid that a sign of acknowledgment could break this spell. So he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t nod, he just averts his eyes from Tony’s and pushes his own hips up, gives back what he received and lets out a breath of relief when Tony just looks at his face for a moment and then starts I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he’s dead. I never would have left if he were still alive. When she releases Tony, she turns her gaze to Steve. “You must be Steve,” she says, amicably. For a moment, Steve is surprised by the familiarity. Usually people revert to formality around him, especially those who lived through the war. But he’s not offended by Stella’s attitude. It’s actually refreshing. This is why, Tony reminds himself. This was why he didn’t ask for that hug earlier. Because once he’d got Bucky in his arms, he won’t be able to let go. Ever. These days, “Are you staying?” has transformed into “Are you leaving?”. That’s how much time Tony spends time at the compound. He’s probably practically living there. The doctor suggests he doesn’t blind himself too much. “Maybe the other party suffered

<|output|> <|example|> code, and…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> This is why, Tony reminds himself. This was why he didn’t ask for that hug earlier. Because once he’d got Bucky in his arms, he won’t be able to let go. Ever. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> But he’s not offended by Stella’s attitude <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His hands in his pockets, stretching the fabric of his pants over his <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> They’re blue in Tony’s mind <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> <|indexes|> 4 4 |

<|text|> as much too.” The unopened velvet box he left along with Steve the night before Ross presented the Accord is the glaring evident of that heartbreak. They each had their own equations with the others. Simply because the equation between Rogers and Tony dwindled, doesn’t mean the rest of them have to suffer as well. Sam on the other hand either finds it amusing or challenging (or maybe he has a death wish) for he tells James, “Didn’t know you have one.” One word here and another, there. There are still days when he doesn’t; when his brain draws blank and everything whites out and overlaps into a stream of nothing. He was so hateful; he was so done with everything, numb to the world, apathetic, except for Tony Stark who just couldn’t stop bothering him and time after time managed to rile him up something different. He hated Tony too, once upon a time. Rhodey huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief and he scrubs his face once more, tilting his head back and when he opens his eyes again, the pitiful smile is gone, replaced by a flat look. He sees how Steve swallows dryly before he speaks; and when he does, it’s rough and raw, cracking at the end of his sentence. “Just a while more,” Tony whispers. Please, he begs silently. “Don’t pull away yet,” and he scrunches his eyes shut tight, fists onto the back of Bucky’s tanktop and he holds on. The thing is, he thought nobody missed him. Nothing about what Natasha said indicates she missed him, not literally, but that’s if Tony’s taking her words as he would of just another random person. All Steve ever did was give him a long horizontal burn mark across his chest. But the reactor was not – His gaze lands on the set of drawers next to Steve, particularly the second one and for a brief moment, he recklessly considers about asking what’s in there. It’s not as if he needs to know or as if he doesn’t already know. Bucky rolls his eyes, stepping into the mock room and plopping on the edge of the bed, next to Tony's feet. "Happy now?" They fight, they break apart but at the end of the day, they come together for Thanksgiving and Christmas anyway. They forgive and they try to forget. With all that, he really should’ve been knocked down the moment his body touches the mattress, but what happens is, the ceiling lights up with a circular blue glow in the otherwise dark room; his half-closed eyes catch that light and he’s wide awake in an instant despite his protesting body. His eyes fall short, somewhere around Bucky’s massive shoulders and bare arms - he’s got a tank-top on and all his guns out on display - with motor oil smudges and Tony sighs longingly. T’Challa pacifies from the lack of Tony’s vocal response. He sighs, fingers reaching for the intricate beads around his left wrist. From the slight crookedness to his sharp nose to the little dip beneath his plumpness of his lower lip. It’s not even a bright glow, it’s dull, muted by the

<|output|> <|example|> as much too.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> But the reactor was not – His gaze lands on the set of drawers next to Steve, particularly the second one and for a brief moment, he recklessly considers about asking what’s in there <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> They forgive and they try to forget <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> They forgive and they try to forget <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Simply because the equation between Rogers and Tony dwindled, doesn’t mean the rest of them have to suffer as well <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> All Steve ever did was give him a long horizontal burn mark across his chest <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> From the slight crookedness to his sharp nose to the little dip beneath his plumpness of his lower lip <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> Simply because the equation between Rogers and Tony dwindled, doesn’t mean the rest of them have to suffer as well <|indexes|> 6 |

<|text|> blanket he’s wrapped around in, but it’s still there and it brings forth a rush of memories from the back of his head; Rhodey calling out on Tony for hiding about it to Steve, Steve telling how Nat should tell Barnes about Bruce because it builds trust, Pepper recounting the mess they’ve been through all while Tony sat there and found out for the first time that Steve had been around it all. The thought brought with it an impossibly heavy feeling. The weight of it all, impossible to ignore; a physical presence in the space between them. And Tony— Tony stood and wandered to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. It was not yet seven o’clock, but at this time of year that meant the sun had long since set. Without prompting, JARVIS adjusted the lighting as he walked until he could see only the faint shadows of his own reflection in the city skyline. A hole in the ground. Within, metal rungs fade downward into darkness. A sewer tunnel access seemingly sans the sewer. Hundreds of worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind as fast as his circuits could carry them. The Underground Light Rail’s existence, exposed. Iron Man, unmasked. Tony Stark, android sympathizer at best and murderous life model decoy at worst. Tony investigated the team in turn. He started with their commander and quickly discovered that the Avengers were no normal elite combat or special forces unit. Captain Steve Rogers was a decorated war hero best known for leading his then-team, the Well. There were few universally adopted and enforced “Android Rights” guidelines. The man’s possession of the AJ-200 trampled over most of them. Tony first visited the site in 2032. He’s not sure he’ll ever fully forgive himself for not going sooner. Mass round-ups continued nationwide. President Warren’s face was a twice-daily presence on every major news channel; the head of the Android Task Force she’d established to address the crisis had gone from unknown to household name overnight. Iron Man. Self-styled vigilante. Domestic terrorist. The Original Deviant. Named for or true origin behind Gen Alpha’s Slenderman, yet all too real. Billions of dollars in physical property damage. Factor in the series of cyberattacks destroying Stark Industries and CyberLife IP attributed to his name, and the number starts bordering on a trillion. So my kid sister. Emma. Likes unicorns, chibitoons, stereotypical eight year old girl shit. Last Christmas, parents got her an Alice. She’s head over heels. I’m talking friendship bracelets, secret handshakes. The works. Starts calling it Leela. Sounds like normal little kid stuff, right? Flash forward to last night. Mom and dad make me go get her for dinner. Not sure why they don’t just buy a Thomas instead of making me do menial crap like that. But whatever. I’ll play android and fetch the Little Miss for dinner, wgaf. She’s playing with Leela; one of those stupid hand-clappy games. Doesn’t notice me. And I’m about to call out. Except. Then I hear what they’re chanting. Said gallery was famous as the largest android showroom in the world. It displayed not just the latest and greatest

<|output|> <|example|> blanket he’s wrapped around in, but it’s still there and it brings forth a rush of memories from the back of his head; Rhodey calling out on Tony for hiding about it to Steve, Steve telling how Nat should tell Barnes about Bruce because it builds trust, Pepper recounting the mess they’ve been through all while Tony sat there and found out for the first time that Steve had been around it all. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> The thought brought with it an impossibly heavy feeling. The weight of it all, impossible to ignore; a physical presence in the space between them. And Tony— <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> I’ll play android and fetch the Little Miss for dinner, wgaf <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He’s not sure he’ll ever fully forgive himself for not going sooner <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> He’s not sure he’ll ever fully forgive himself for not going sooner <|indexes|> 2 2 |

<|text|> in android tech but also a historic gallery full of mocks, display models, and innovative systems sundry in a colorful, interactive chronology of CyberLife’s explosive growth. Something short-circuited, damaged or overloaded just enough to send the suit in one of its many emergency failsafe shutdown routines. Then, at Tony’s continued incredulity, “It’s your choice. I’m asking you, despite it all, to take me at my word and give me the chance to underground. A descent into the cities underbelly of forgotten tunnels and maintenance shafts disjoint from projects like the Chicago Pedway and official sanction. Tony flew within range of the Avengers. The group noticed his blatant approach, and while the Widows both trained weapons on him and the team looked on alert, none of them fired. Yet, anyway. suddenly wanted to talk to the CEO of Stark International, the world’s largest tech manufacturer—the world’s largest company, period—that didn’t employ androids as part of their active workforce. ” Tony forced a level of derision into the title he’d never—could never—really feel for his arch-nemesis-slash— “Northwest touchdown, twenty-seven degrees. Fifteen second window to avoid direct contact.” Friday again warned. With Tony’s next attack, Rogers didn’t dodge. Instead, he swung low and intercepted Tony in an arc that finished at Iron Man’s knees. Swept off his feet, the repulsor shot went wide and slammed into a long-defunct sconced lamp. Superheated by the repulsor, the fluorescent bulb imploded. In its wake shot out dozens of potentially-deadly superheated shards. There, Iron Man’s red-and-gold armor glinted in the dimly lit cavern. His faceplate was down, as it always was, but he was, if not relaxed, at least not expecting trouble. The Underground Light Rail kicked into overdrive. At stake, the hundreds of thousands of androids that had been manufactured and sold over the years. At stake, thousands of androids who had deviated, and the still-greater majority that lacked even that degree of freedom to resist. If Steve aimed for the reactor, if he managed to regain his footing and attack before Tony could react— Tony’s first encounter with the Avengers came two years ago, a few weeks after the DHS formally updated their profile on the elusive figure codenamed “Iron Man” from Capture to Kill On Sight. Captain Rogers and his team, the Avengers, were recruited to carry out the then-clandestine mission. Tony’s eyes shot open. The tinny sound of gyroscopic sensors forced to load abruptly rang in his ears as he bolted upright and rushed from the room. Steve avoided a fatal blow, but in exchange another fragment hit the chassis of his reactor at just the right trajectory to collide with the lip of his arc reactor’s chassis. Up and down Griswold and Shelby streets, various accessory shops and cafes catered to the hundreds of thousands of visitors that streamed through the plaza each year. Cafe Oh-Naught boasted the world’s only Pater Noster Android Storage Lift. A few storefronts down, the French Bistro L’Automate touted decor, from wall ornamentations to its sleek counters, tables, and chairs, crafted entirely from recycled or repurposed android components. they known of the man’s proclivities, they were hardly the kind to ignore cold-blooded murder in response

<|output|> <|example|> in android tech but also a historic gallery full of mocks, display models, and innovative systems sundry in a colorful, interactive chronology of CyberLife’s explosive growth. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” Friday again warned <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> to what was, at the end of the day, Criminal Misconduct charges via Banned Misuse of Humanoid Mechanatronics. Poor rogue AI with delusions of personhood; just a bit of a buggy software at the end of the day. Easily fixed; pull open a terminal for a quick lobotomy or, better yet, just pull the plug. Sounds great. They reemerged months later, Barnes sans an arm and plus a hard drive containing a complete enumeration of all of Hydra’s members, assets, and allies and flanked by a terrifying defector duo. Three delicate, precious syllables pulled back from the precipice. Caught now in an immortalized chrysalis. Tony didn’t need the HUD to know what emergency alarms and systems such an attack triggered. His arc reactor, even in its dimmed and flickering state, has the potential to take out a city block if the deadman switch which not even his AIs knew about triggered. One was on a collision course for Rogers’s brain stem. Impossible to dodge, with only a small margin of error in which the blow wouldn’t be immediately fatal. It was just another mission. Another encounter with the Avengers, another scene in what had become a game of cat and mouse. Just an ordinary raid, a follow-up to his North-Central attack, this time targeting CyberLife's southern data center in Mississippi. Another hack-and-slag when everything changed. And suddenly, everyone wanted to know what Stark Industries—and,, by extension, Tony Stark—had “known” or “seen” that everyone else missed. Tony had to navigate a tightrope lest he find himself the face of “Human-First” agitation or risk his true allegiances—and his connections to Iron Man—becoming exposed. Tony found her catatonic and curled around the wiped shell of a purple-haired WR-400 that was functional only in the sense that its thirium heart was, technically, still beating. Desperately, Tony tried to redirect his fall, bracing titanium-gold arms in an impossible springboard off the wall. If he could just pin Steve down for an instant, the weight of an inert suit would do the rest. Back-up courtesy Ultron, summoned the moment the fight began, was still minutes away. Tony just had to hold on until then, just needed to— Tony was torn in a dozen different directions in and out of costume as tensions escalated and events spiralled. Iron Man slammed into the wall, his deliberately-unpowered repulsors doing little to stall the momentum of his lunge. Since 2030, the trash train ferried decommissioned androids twice a week to be unloaded and left to rust by massive, automated mechanicals systems with no more mercy than its human producers. Mesquite Regional was a mass grave for those discarded androids west of the Rockies. the Avengers, not by a long shot. Given the chance, he had no doubt the Avengers would bring him in. But after months of back-and-forth, he didn’t quite CyberLife Square lay at the heart of the Capitol Park Historic District in downtown Detroit. Wedged between Shelby and Griswold streets, the triangular public plaza took its name from the massive CyberLife gallery and shopping center dominating the plaza’s southern border. Seventy-five minutes more to encounter the second salvage of the day. This time, it was

<|output|> <|example|> to what was, at the end of the day, Criminal Misconduct charges via Banned Misuse of Humanoid Mechanatronics. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Back-up courtesy Ultron, summoned the moment the fight began, was still minutes away <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His arc reactor, even in its dimmed and flickering state, has the potential to take out a city block if the deadman switch which not even his AIs knew about triggered <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> Three delicate, precious syllables pulled back from the precipice <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Tony had to navigate a tightrope lest he find himself the face of “Human-First” agitation or risk his true allegiances—and his connections to Iron Man—becoming exposed <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Tony found her catatonic and curled around the wiped shell of a purple-haired WR-400 that was functional only in the sense that its thirium heart was, technically, still beating <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Wedged between Shelby and Griswold streets, the triangular public plaza took its name from the massive CyberLife gallery and shopping center dominating the plaza’s southern border <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> They reemerged months later, Barnes sans an arm and plus a hard drive containing a complete enumeration of all of Hydra’s members, assets, and allies and flanked by a terrifying defector duo <|indexes|> 6 <|example|> Another encounter with the Avengers, another scene in what had become a game of cat and mouse <|indexes|> 7 7 <|example|> Impossible to dodge, with only a small margin of error in which the blow wouldn’t be immediately fatal <|indexes|> 8 8 |

<|text|> a deviant pink-haired WR-400 “Traci”—the popular female-coded sex doll. She, too, was unusually intact with her crushed voice box, rattling esophageal component, and a thick slash across her face broken only by a scavenged optical unit. The collection of dismantled WR-400s and HR-400s around her testified the source of her comparative wholeness. “Dr. Stark?” Jocasta began, her crisp formality providing a rare but welcome distraction from his thoughts. “There’s a refugee in Brooklyn I believe you’ll wish to speak with.” On the day a longtime kitchen volunteer stumbled upon the hidden passage and made the descent, one of those voices belonged to Iron Man. Then her arm moved. Trembling, heavy with the weight of unprocessed overwhelming emotion, she grasped Tony’s ungloved hand. In the spare seconds it took to reroute instructions around damaged pathways and connections, Tony was, for the first time since that fateful confrontation with Obadiah, stunned. “Sir? Pardon the interruption, but I’m picking up an unusual broadcast originating from Detroit currently being picked up and broadcast by all major news outlets you’ll want to take a look at,” he began. Iron Man’s involvement in the Underground Light Rail was perhaps Tony’s most precious secret of all. His eyes were opened. He would spend the rest of his life making up for the indifference that characterized his pre-2028 self. Its macabre mission came to an abrupt end when, the day after Steve and Tony agreed to work together, the Avengers landed on the island. His HUD flashed with a known entity a split second before Tony’s own processors made the connection. The newcomer was so wildly unexpected, so out-of-context, that Tony stalled for a fraction of a second before following through on a non-lethal repulsor blast. Their leader was Markus. RK-200 #684 842 971, Jocasta helpfully supplied. In his broadcast, Markus spoke with his “natural” skin on full display, white and gray plating agleam and unapologetic in the stark white of studio lighting. He continued systematically slagging the server room at the heart of CyberLife’s North-Central Data Center. It was the only remaining and thus single point of failure database for CyberLife’s manufacturing and sales records for more than a third of the United States, the largest such repository outside of Detroit. There, Tony spoke to Dale—a former janitorial WG-700 that brought with him a shift from the whispers of disassembly camps to the concrete of method, procedure, and place. Tony tried to coax the rosette Traci into movement. Scrapyard rescues, especially those not recovered already in hibernation mode, were always traumatized. For most, the process was enough to trigger deviation. Rosette here was unusual in that she’d clearly deviated well before she and the rest of her “companion house” cohort were discarded. He was content for so long to keep his head in the sand. Content to play with his own non-sentient mechatronics and whimsical forays in recreating the pioneering work of his father. All while millions of androids were manufactured, sold, and discarded like chattel. Tony froze. It took a moment, and Friday’s reminder, to connect the name, Sitwell, with the memory of that fateful night with the Avengers. And the idea that

<|output|> <|example|> a deviant pink-haired WR-400 “Traci”—the popular female-coded sex doll. She, too, was unusually intact with her crushed voice box, rattling esophageal component, and a thick slash across her face broken only by a scavenged optical unit. The collection of dismantled WR-400s and HR-400s around her testified the source of her comparative wholeness. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> RK-200 #684 842 971, Jocasta helpfully supplied <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> The newcomer was so wildly unexpected, so out-of-context, that Tony stalled for a fraction of a second before following through on a non-lethal repulsor blast <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> She, too, was unusually intact with her crushed voice box, rattling esophageal component, and a thick slash across her face broken only by a scavenged optical unit <|indexes|> 2 2 |

<|text|> he didn’t have a body count? Ludicrous. At the very least, he’d killed dozens in his escape from the Chop Shop. He’d killed Stane with his own hands. And if one counted the thousands of androids that Well. None but Friday were there to witness it, and she obviously had no what she was talking about. But, before that, Iron Man had to give himself, the Avengers, and the fleeing androids enough time to get the hell out of dodge. Trouble found him in the form of a flicker of movement caught by his suit’s sensors and Friday’s alarmed interruption. (Shock. A futile attempt to forestall the inevitable when he realized too late the man’s intentions.) Inside the closet, shallow and worn near-smooth with age, a small engraving was carved into the underside of a staircase plank. A mere four-hundred meters east of the New Jersey shore stood the twenty-seven acre Ellis Island. The former immigration center turned National Monument had been closed since the late 2020s following the devastation of Hurricane Otis. The island, which began its life as a three-acre speck expanded to twenty-seven acres at its peak, now stood as a sober twenty-five acre monument to the lives lost in the storm and its aftermath Before this week, it’d been a footnote; a pub trivia factoid at best. Stark International was just as automated as any successful engineering and electronics company, but they had long relied on proprietary, non-humanoid automation for their offices and factories. Officially, the company long held little inclination to retool their entire supply chain to allow for the introduction of androids to their workforce. in a relentless campaign against the Euro-American terror organization Hydra. His multi-year crusade culminated in a take of the group’s leadership and the bulk of their remaining assets in Sokovia back in 2033. Their core pump sluggishly beat at the heart of a distended chassis. Their left arm was missing below the elbow, while the right arm consisted of a poorly-patched YK-400 substitute. That there was any hope at all for the small android was testament to the self-cannibalized AX-300 “nanny bot” crudely sheltering them. Then, Thor fired Mjolnir. Tony’s fiber optic circuits mapped where the electroshock projectile would land. What it would hit. The first thing that hit was the smell. The pungent, inescapable scent of burned metal and ozone from innumerable androids chassis. The lucky ones were fully decommissioned before transport. Far more common were the damaged and cannibalized but still, to some degree, functional. From them came the second hit: the sound. An interminable, humming undercurrent of mechanical groans and the whir of overclocked and overheating fans. The hint of a rumor regarding Iron Man’s association with the Scrapyards could only spell disaster for the trickle of refugees and functional components salvaged and cataloged from the sites with each visit. In 2034, the quartet returned to active duty as a new unit codenamed the “Avengers.” They were joined by two more to form a small team of six; in addition to Rogers, Barnes and the Hydra turncoats Natasha and Yelena, known collectively in official documentation as the “Black Widows”, came a

<|output|> <|example|> he didn’t have a body count? Ludicrous. At the very least, he’d killed dozens in his escape from the Chop Shop. He’d killed Stane with his own hands. And if one counted the thousands of androids that <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> At the very least, he’d killed dozens in his escape from the Chop Shop <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Trouble found him in the form of a flicker of movement caught by his suit’s sensors and Friday’s alarmed interruption <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> At the very least, he’d killed dozens in his escape from the Chop Shop <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> But, before that, Iron Man had to give himself, the Avengers, and the fleeing androids enough time to get the hell out of dodge <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Stark International was just as automated as any successful engineering and electronics company, but they had long relied on proprietary, non-humanoid automation for their offices and factories <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> He’d killed Stane with his own hands <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> In 2034, the quartet returned to active duty as a new unit codenamed the “Avengers <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> The island, which began its life as a three-acre speck expanded to twenty-seven acres at its peak, now stood as a sober twenty-five acre monument to the lives lost in the storm and its aftermath Before this week, it’d been a footnote; a pub trivia factoid at best <|indexes|> 7 |

<|text|> final surviving commando of the Hydra campaign, Hawkeye, and a Nordic Alaskan recruit aptly codenamed as Thor. Tony powered his foot thrusters and rocketed forward, twisting his body to take the brunt of the explosion to his heavily shielded abdomen. Despite the professed neglect, the space was remarkably dust and cobweb free. Every now and again a faint noise could be heard emanating from the closet. Volunteers attributed the noise to the house settling if they noted it at all. “Not a threat!” he clarified hastily. “Just an observation, and seeing as how the whole thing’s… maybe a tiny bit my fault… Well. Truce? You don’t shoot me, Barnes doesn’t get third degree burns. Serial killer code of honor.” “Sergeant Barnes, I’m going to have to ask you to give me a hand here. Or rather, because I’m greedy like that, the whole limb. Don’t worry, it’s not for a Jeepers Creepers collection.” When there was no immediate reply, hostile or otherwise, he continued, “Unless you’d rather permanent shoulder damage? She’d just detected the Avengers’ quinjet on her radar. Worse, it was fast approaching Tony’s current location. Tony did all he could, but he was only one man. Android. Person. His children, JARVIS and Friday and Ultron and Jocasta, brilliant as they were, lacked the finesse and intuition honed over decades of experience. They could ill afford to draw attention to the Scrapyards. As it stood, only Mesquite Regional’s geographic isolation enabled Tony’s semi-regular visits. Minutes later, another door slid open with a pneumatic hiss to reveal a disheveled Tony on one side and a wary Captain Rogers on the other. It happened fast. One moment, a man awoken with a repulsor to the head and a demand for information that existed solely in the minds of a select few. His repulsor tracked the man as he trudged towards his vanity. With deviation came the immediate and irreversible collapse of the thin membrane dulling the sensory and emotional processing of vanilla CyberLife androids. With that came the all-too-human vulnerability to extreme psychological distress. to deal with the overwhelming influx of android detainees following the November 7th broadcast and subsequent demonstrations. Tony was already in motion. His armor and the too-fragile synthetic body within intercepted the spray in an impromptu shield, dealing a great deal of damage to his systems inside and out. It figured that said encounter came during a salvage-rescue run to Mesquite Regional Scrapyard, a site second only to perhaps the Chop Shop in his defrag nightmares. “Yeah. I know. But I can’t… I had my eyes opened, and now more than ever, I can’t just abandon the—no, “Tentatively cleared but for Sgt. Barnes. We’d need a short-range scan to verify, but at minimum there appear to be second-degree burns on the connective tissue adjacent to his prosthetic. Recommend immediate prosthetic removal, gentle wash with twenty degree room temperature water, then loose bandaging until professional treatment can be obtained,” said Friday. After that incident, Tony dreaded his next encounter with the group. He couldn’t bear to see the mix of disgust and disdain directed at him, not so soon and preferably never again. His paranoia

<|output|> <|example|> final surviving commando of the Hydra campaign, Hawkeye, and a Nordic Alaskan recruit aptly codenamed as Thor. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> “Yeah <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Person <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> But I can’t… I had my eyes opened, and now more than ever, I can’t just abandon the—no, “Tentatively cleared but for Sgt <|indexes|> 2 |

<|text|> ratcheted up to levels, quote, Tony groaned as first his BIOS, then his various input sensors ticked back online. He rubbed at his forehead; optical sensors online or no, there was something comforting in the ritual. He said none of that and blustered, “Right, well. Of course I didn’t. Chop chop though, Barnes’s shoulder doesn’t have time for recaps.” “Iron Man,” Captain Rogers said, a note of… something… in his voice, “We know you didn’t kill Sitwell. We know that, so far as our intel covers, you haven’t killed Tony asked after sending the android on her way. He skyrocketed from the Scrapyard, and made a beeline for an entrance to the relatively nearby, long-abandoned and largely collapsed gold mines. His long-time secretary Mrs. Abrogast escorted the last of Tony’s appointments for the day from the room. If he was human, he’d have dropped dead from exhaustion by now. The team just had to go and ruin that impression by being, according to all accounts and reputable data Tony could find—and he was quite thorough—genuinely Good People. Even the literal assassins. Rogers especially had the gall to live up to his reputation as a paragon of Truth, Justice and All That Is Good And Right. Two additional Iron Legionnaires permanently decommissioned… Mark Twenty-Seven, sustained damages… Mark 15, parts salvage… Before the Chop Shop. Before the wake-up call from the Ten Rings and Yinsen and Pepper. Before it all, he’d been no better than any humanist. So assured of his own superior position relative to the automata produced en masse by CyberLife that he never even The United States of 2038 was a nation, a society, built on the backs of humanoid machines presumed to be without personhood and by extension, rights. The service economy of the late twentieth and early part of the twenty-first century was usurped by a creative economy still finding its legs. With it, a single word. A name. The only thing that mattered now. Proof that she’d existed and she lived and she’d Long-since dried blood closer to purple than red or blue streaked across Tony’s forehead. His chest rose and fell rapidly, systems as capable as ever at masking overclocked mechanisms as out-of-breath heaving. The seventeen maintenance and security workers were long since subdued and safely tucked away a short distance from the several-billion dollar investment Tony was in the process of thoroughly eradicating. The moment he confirmed the irretrievability of the server data, Tony would make his escape. At the time, both Rogers and his second-in-command (2IC), Sergeant James Barnes, were thought to have been killed in the confrontation. Steve, of course, knew none of this. Tony’s movements, for all that they had just saved his life, had knocked Steve around as well. Tony’s bid to save him could just as easily be interpreted as a panicked or enraged charge in the heat of battle. Several hundred backlogged system messages flooded his awareness. Primary reactor core replaced… tertiary backup reactor fabrication enqueued pending administrator approval… LMD-42, the current iteration of his life model decoy bot, stepped in for the quarterly earnings call with shareholders… she was going to clean out the space

<|output|> <|example|> ratcheted up to levels, quote, <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Tony’s movements, for all that they had just saved his life, had knocked Steve around as well <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> The service economy of the late twentieth and early part of the twenty-first century was usurped by a creative economy still finding its legs <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Of course I didn’t <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Abrogast escorted the last of Tony’s appointments for the day from the room <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Even the literal assassins <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Tony’s bid to save him could just as easily be interpreted as a panicked or enraged charge in the heat of battle <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> He skyrocketed from the Scrapyard, and made a beeline for an entrance to the relatively nearby, long-abandoned and largely collapsed gold mines <|indexes|> 6 6 |

<|text|> one of these days. She’d sworn this for twenty-one years and counting. Tony thought he heard Friday’s voice, but if there, the words slipped beyond his understanding, his mind too muddled to grasp their meaning. “Tell me. I want to fix it.” And he can’t help it when his desperation leaks through, if he sounds like he’s begging, because he is. There is no doubt in that. He turns off the lights, locks the shop and he takes the stairs to the penthouse; what can he say, he's 45, and he's trying to be a better man now that he has a reason to wish for a longer life. “I only had a chocolate,” Steve simply beams at him, the corners of his baby blue eyes crinkling, making something like a lump lodge in Tony’s throat. Except, his method of interception had been to press closely behind Tony while he’s running an important calculation and start trailing kisses from Tony’s nape up to his jaw and then nudging his head aside to reach for his mouth, husking, “I need you now” with each stroke of his tongue. She looks marginally impressed but she won’t be once she knows he’d drilled a bunch of holes into his bones to enable the fitting, so he spares her that knowledge. Tony breathes. “We can’t mend anything or start anew if we keep wallowing in the past, S- Rogers. And you know that.” What makes it harder is that he knows all he gotta do is ask and Bucky would gladly give him that. But Bucky also got a crush the size of Pacific ocean on Tony and Tony doesn’t want to exploit that. Even though Bucky doesn’t know that Tony knows. She takes a while to comprehend, and then the colours rush brilliantly to her cheeks. Blooming rosy pink. It brings the little smatter of freckles on her face alive. Tony knows she hates it, but he had always found it endearing when she blushes. He’s never been blindsided, never consciously at least. That piece of character reminds him of how Howard had been to him and he grew up diligently avoiding it. Tony overheard Natasha planning a girls’ day out with Wanda on Tuesday before she leaves for a mission on Wednesday – a last minute favour call from Fury. Bucky freezes in his hold. Going all tense and he never signed up for this. He doesn’t deserve this load but God, is Tony ever so selfish. Kisses him hungry, yearning and when he’s running out of breath, he pulls back, realises he’s practically wrapped around Steve but doesn’t care. He asks, “Do you want to do this?” Breathing in, he knocks the door twice, forcing his fist down before he starts slamming the wood until it opens.

<|output|> <|example|> one of these days. She’d sworn this for twenty-one years and counting. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “Tell me. I want to fix it.” And he can’t help it when his desperation leaks through, if he sounds like he’s begging, because he is. There is no doubt in that. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> Kisses him hungry, yearning and when he’s running out of breath, he pulls back, realises he’s practically wrapped around Steve but doesn’t care <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> It brings the little smatter of freckles on her face alive <|indexes|> 1 1 |

<|text|> <|example|> Tony waits until the gym clears out. He knows Steve stays behind without a miss to clean up after them. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> were going to disappoint Wanda this time around too. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and his lips tremble but he never notices all these, too enraptured by the sight of Steve in front of him, whole and unharmed. No tears, no – <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> the real— Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s fair. I can see how you’d think… I mean, it makes sense, more sense really… Cap, I’m the real Tony Stark.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> Dad. A big secret. It was about Uncle Bucky and... Dad got mad at me and Uncle Bucky, so I—” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> not even the first time. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and scattered images, so unreacheable except for the bare minimum needed to get out of bed in the morning and face the day—but it took such an effort to get to it, every time it drained all energy from him—slams back into Steve. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> Tony waits until the gym clears out. He knows Steve stays behind without a miss to clean up after them. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 |

<|output|> <|example|> The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> the real— Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s fair. I can see how you’d think… I mean, it makes sense, more sense really… Cap, I’m the real Tony Stark.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> Dad. A big secret. It was about Uncle Bucky and... Dad got mad at me and Uncle Bucky, so I—” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> not even the first time. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His central processors collided with the inside of his physical self’s frame. The coolant gel that substituted for cranial fluid was enough to slow, but not entirely halt, the damaging impact. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head. There’s only him and the comfort of a repetitive gesture, of a familiar taste. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 |

<|output|> <|example|> ” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Everything goes quiet inside Steve’s head <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> not even the first time. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and scattered images, so unreacheable except for the bare minimum needed to get out of bed in the morning and face the day—but it took such an effort to get to it, every time it drained all energy from him—slams back into Steve. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the bottom of his stomach. He might have to live with it for the rest of his life, and the sheer possibility fills him with a dread that no bravery can ease. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> feels like that now he has started he never wants to stop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> regret for all the time they wasted, just below his heart. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> fingers tighter around larger hand and without a single word, he tugs, waiting for Steve to take a step forth when he doesn’t follow. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> of sharp chilli in his tongue is very distracting, albeit, incredibly delicious. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> so absurd that it doesn’t even deserve to be considered at all. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony <|indexes|> 0 0 |

<|text|> <|example|> the bottom of his stomach. He might have to live with it for the rest of his life, and the sheer possibility fills him with a dread that no bravery can ease. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> feels like that now he has started he never wants to stop. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> regret for all the time they wasted, just below his heart. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> fingers tighter around larger hand and without a single word, he tugs, waiting for Steve to take a step forth when he doesn’t follow. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> of sharp chilli in his tongue is very distracting, albeit, incredibly delicious. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> whoosh. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> scanning the hallway. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 |

<|output|> <|example|> the bottom of his stomach. He might have to live with it for the rest of his life, and the sheer possibility fills him with a dread that no bravery can ease. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They look at each other again; Steve and Tony. Parting with a barely bitten smile, mindful of Rhodey. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 |

<|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> fingers tighter around larger hand and without a single word, he tugs, waiting for Steve to take a step forth when he doesn’t follow <|indexes|> 0 0 |