comment_fic | Tuesday: Word of the Day [DW Edition]

Hello, everyone. I’m

templefugate and your host for the week. Today's theme is word of the day. Prompts should all be a word of the day. Feel free to use other online dictionaries besides the one I linked to.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here. Unfortunately, DW doesn’t have a cut tag, so use your best judgment when it comes to spoilers.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ MCU, Natasha Romanoff, hugger-mugger
+ Disney, Mirabel Madrigal, irenic
+ Any, any, desuetude

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tag=word of the day

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

templefugate

MCU, Natasha Romanoff, hugger-mugger

From:

templefugate

Disney, Mirabel Madrigal, irenic

From:

templefugate

Any, any, desuetude

From:

templefugate

Any, any, acumen

From:

creepy_shetan

[cross-post / also on LJ]

(A continuation of an idea that started out much darker than this, lol. Here's Part 1 and Part 2, both of which I also wrote this week. No real spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine, don't worry.)

Slowly, Pyro turned his head away from the spectacle in front of them to stare at the Wolverine who was laughing heartily and not doing anything to stop it. (Pyro wasn't dumb enough to try to stop it, but he figured if anyone had a chance of success, it'd be a Wolverine.)

Instead, the Wolverine made a loudspeaker with his hands near his mouth and called out to the Deadpool yelping and cursing and generally somehow managing to avoid the worst of the Iceman's attacks.

"What did you do in another life to piss off Bobby Drake of all people?"

"Is that--Aaah, watch it--What--Jesus fuck--this is?!"

"I have no doubt, bub!"

The Wolverine turned to Pyro, still grinning.

"Do you?"

"Now that you mention it... No."

"Thanks for that! Now we've got Gwen Stefani singing over this sequence, and ohhh, I've had it up to here with this!"

"Who is...?"

"Don't bother asking. About 'we' or the music reference."

Looking between the "fight" and the Wolverine, an unsettling thought belatedly occurred to Pyro.

"Okay, different question: you don't have anything against me?"

The smile fell from the Wolverine's lips as he looked Pyro over, making him sweat. He held the younger man's gaze for a couple of quickened heartbeats. Then he smirked.

"Not especially."

"That's... good to know."

"It is, isn't it?"

The Wolverine's grin returned, but there was a dangerous edge to it this time.

"You've had your fun, honey badger, now save--gyaddamn--my freezing ass, would you?!"

"A honey badger isn't a wolverine."

Pyro's casual remark didn't go unheard.

"Shut it, otter eyes! You try calling Wolvie a skunk bear and see what happens!"

Reflexively, he sparked a flame.

"'Otter eyes'?"

"Like I said: don't bother asking."

The Wolverine sighed, gave Pyro a lazy salute of a wave, and strolled over to the chaos like his mother had told him to take out the garbage. (The garbage being the Deadpool, of course.)

As Pyro watched the Wolverine step between the Iceman and the Deadpool and effectively end the "fight" by restraining (impaling) the latter instead of doing anything to the former, he wondered if there was a single sane creature alive in the Void. Maybe it was that purple cloud monster they'd seen in the distance a couple of times.

Now it was Pyro's turn to raise his voice and call out to the Iceman, who'd finally stopped his berserker attacks and had actually backed away from the Wolverine and the stabbed-but-still-chatty Deadpool.

"Adamantium claws! I told you!"

(I got a 12 Monkeys reference [for Aaron Stanford] in there at the last minute, muahaha, thank you Jennifer [Emily Hampshire].)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any/Any, snerdle (to wrap up cozily beneath the covers and hold off the day for a little longer)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, callipygian (having beautiful, well-shaped buttocks)

From:

nagi_schwarz

“Roll call,” Jinwoo said. “I’m Jinjin!”

His little on-screen avatar was green. He made the little crew member run around in a circle.

“I’m MJ!” Myungjun’s avatar was orange and wearing bat wings hat. Over Jinwoo’s headphones, his voice was clear as a bell, but Jinwoo had invested in expensive gaming headphones for a reason.

He smiled fondly at the screen, amused by his best friend’s antics.

“I’m DalKong!” Bin cried, making his red crew member run laps around the waiting room. The little cartoon creature was wearing a hockey mask.

“That mask is scary,” Minhyuk said. His voice, like Bin’s, was slightly tinny, but where neither of them were professional gaming streamers, neither of them had invested in good mics, not like Myungjun and Sanha.

“Which one are you?” Sanha asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Oh, this is me.” Minhyuk’s avatar was blue, and his screen name was the same one he used for everything. “I’m Rocky.”

Said avatar was waiting patiently in the middle of the room.

“Of course you are,” Bin muttered.

“Yah! Yoon Sanha, keep on with the roll call,” Myungjun said.

“I’m Ddana!” Sanha chirped, his avatar yellow and wearing a pink flamingo on its head. Then he added, “I don’t see why we have to do a roll call. It’s not like anyone’s watching.”

Where Minhyuk occasionally assented to streaming with Jinwoo, Bin and Dongmin weren’t interested in their gaming skills being broadcast for the internet to see.

Still, when gaming together, some protocols were to be observed.

“That leaves Dongmin,” Jinwoo said. As their leader, he had to make sure everyone understood the ground rules before the game started, to effectuate as satisfying a gaming experience as possible for all involved.

Dongmin’s avatar was a lighter shade of blue — dark cyan? — and wearing a very classy top hat. “Here I am.” He made his avatar zip back and forth.

“How do you pronounce that screen name?” Myungjun asked. “Ka-lee-pie— eh?”

Jinwoo could picture Myungjun’s puzzled head tilt.

“Tonight,” Dongmin said, “I am Callipygian.”

“What happened to EongDongmin?” Myungjun asked. “Or some other eongdeong butt-related pun?”

“Or a ding-dong pun,” Minhyuk suggested.

“Binnie picked this name for me, and I said I’d use it,” Dongmin said primly.

“Bin-hyung?” Sanha hooted. “You let him pick your screen name?”

“What does it mean?” Minhyuk asked.

“I know!” Myungjun cried, with the totally unwarranted confidence of someone who was the worst of their friend group at English. “It’s like Calliope, from Sandman. She was a poetry goddess.”

“Dongmin-hyung doesn’t write poetry, though,” Sanha pointed out.

“Bin does. Is Dongmin-hyung your poetry goddess now?” Myungjun’s tone was full of innuendo.

“No, that’s not what it means,” Dongmin said. “If you really want to know, look it up yourself. I want to play.”

“You just want to beat Minhyuk, since he’s the only player you can beat,” Sanha said, teasing.

“I’m getting better,” Minhyuk protested.

“Farming doesn’t count,” Bin said.

The truth was, Bin and Dongmin were about equally good — or bad — at games, and there was no guarantee that Bin would beat Dongmin.

Among Us, however, required deception, and Minhyuk was a terrible liar — in person. Over voice chat, where others wouldn’t be able to see his facial expressions or nervous tics, he had a chance to prevail. Also, Stardew Valley with its farming tasks and map navigation might have helped Minhyuk build the skills he needed to complete tasks aboard the spaceship — or chase others and kill them on the sly.

“Now that everyone is here and we are clear on each player’s name and color, let’s begin,” Jinwoo said, and started the game.

What followed was about the level of chaos Jinwoo had expected, everyone running around and trying to complete their shipboard tasks, be it rewiring panels or committing murder on the sly. Unfortunately for Minhyuk, he initially didn’t realize he could still complete tasks even as a ghost, or that he could use vents to get around the ship when he was the impostor, so he struggled for the first few rounds. Meanwhile Bin had forgotten to mute his mic, and he giggled nervously whenever he killed someone.

“Bin-ah, mute your mic,” Dongmin hissed, but it was too late. The impostor had been discovered.

One time Myungjun forgot to mute his mic and swore up a storm that shocked even Sanha when he was murdered — by Dongmin.

“Hyung,” Bin protested, “way to ruin things for Dongmin.”

But Myungjun just swore some more, until Sanha and Minhyuk’s protests won out.

After a couple of hours, they were all gamed out, and they slowly bade each other good night and farewell, signing off one by one, first Dongmin and Bin citing homework, then Sanha and Myungjun complaining about being hungry, and finally Minhyuk, who wanted to knit a bit before bed.

Jinwoo was the last to sign off, and then he set his headphones carefully on their stand before he stood up and stretched. He decided he ought to go check on Minhyuk and see if he could be dissuaded away from knitting for a different kind of typing up in knots. Only he took a detour and looked up Dongmin’s very odd choice of screen name for the night.

And he burst out laughing.

Well, Bin was a poet, and he did always have a way with words.

Maybe after all this time, he and Dongmin were making another go of things.

Even if Jinwoo was dating Minhyuk, he had to admit that Bin wasn’t wrong about Dongmin being callipygian. All those times Dongmin had given himself screen names that essentially translated to Butt-min on account of the others making fun of his ass, he deserved a compliment about something other than his face now and again.

From:

brumeier

This is amazing! LOL! I love that Dongmin used that as his screen name and didn't feel he had to explain himself at all about it. Jinwoo looking it up a the end and then laughing was so good! Love to see more of these boys in their gaming personas, thank you so much!!

From:

nagi_schwarz

You’re so welcome!

Dongmin has suffered a lot because of his big butt, and I have always admired his ability to laugh at himself about it.

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, vellichor (the strange romance evoked by the scent of old books and paper)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, ruderal (a plant growing in rubble)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any/Any, basorexia (a strong craving or hunger for kissing)

From:

creepy_shetan

(Another part of the ~~serious-to-silly-to-idek~~ "what if?" idea that I started writing and posting this week... somehow. 6^^;;; [I'll leave links in another comment!] This is almost as long as Parts 1~3 combined. 6>_>;;; Why must they be like this...)

Funnily enough, it wasn't the way the Iceman had pulled his skintight undershirt off over his head, when they'd found that first place to wash up, that got replayed in Pyro's mind over and over to the point of distraction. It was a great mental image, sure, but he hadn't had a front row seat to it, so it was kinda hazy.

No, what did Pyro in was the way the Iceman fought when he went all out, with the intent to kill some poor bastard (namely, a Deadpool who'd been too surprised and too confused to try to fight back). He hadn't really been able to stop and appreciate that fervent energy and single-minded focus when he'd faced it head-on; but when he'd gotten the chance to stand back and witness all of that force and grace, his well-honed skill and adaptability, something inside of Pyro went, "Oh."

After they met, at first, he'd been concerned about comparing and contrasting this Iceman too much with the one who lived in his memories. It felt unfair, not to mention ridiculously weird and improbable to even be in this situation. It didn't take long to find more differences than similarities, however, the more time they spent together. Most importantly, how Pyro generally felt about each man -- the first thoughts he'd attached to each in his mind, and the first feelings that surfaced without conscious thought -- seemed to brush by each other but never cross paths.

One was Bobby Drake (often "Drake-parentheses-Bobby"), and one was Iceman (usually "the Iceman").

One had been more of an ally and mentor than a friend for a few years in his twenties. He'd mourned for him. He missed him sometimes, but now those memories were collecting dust in a box along with everything else -- all of his intangible reminders of another lifetime.

The other was now his only companion, an unexpected bit of normalcy, in a strange limbo of an existence that neither might survive beyond their thirties. He'd nearly died by his hand. He desperately wanted to kiss him for hours. He hoped... He hoped to be his partner in all of this for as long as possible.

Partner. Pyro hadn't said it out loud yet, not even to himself. He wondered what the Iceman associated with that word. Only good things, right?

He didn't seem to have a lot of firsthand experience with good things, though. And here Pyro had thought that he'd seen some bad times.

In any case, he'd been glad that the Wolverine and the Deadpool they'd run into out of nowhere hadn't decided to hang around or invite them along. He'd been so glad, in fact, that he'd grabbed the Iceman by the arm and practically dragged him in the opposite direction of wherever those two walking disasters were going. Being anywhere near them wouldn't lead to anything good, and they didn't need any more of that shit, remember?

The Iceman humored Pyro until they were just outside some form of shelter, which happened to be a half-buried car of what had probably been a pretty nice commuter train before a hill had dropped on top of its fellow compartments. Pyro thought it might be German, until he saw an ad written in Japanese on one of the doors.

The Iceman planted his feet in the thick grass and waited for Pyro to let go. Which he didn't.

He did stop, at least, his gaze locked onto a broken window of the train. Just as he imagined lying across one of the bench seats, with perhaps heat radiating from another body, he felt a hand cover his. Pyro didn't breathe, fully expecting the Iceman to remove his hand from his arm, but instead the touch skimmed upward, to Pyro's shoulder, and gently pulled. He turned toward the other man far too easily, considering his stubbornness a moment ago.

As the touch disappeared, Pyro cleared his throat and spoke to his hand still wrapped around the Iceman's forearm.

"You okay? I know you got some lethal hits in."

"Yeah. Got him four times. Oddly polite of him."

"Yeah... Helping you vent."

A muscle or tendon shifted beneath Pyro's palm, and his exhale was shakier than even he would've expected.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Then look at me."

Again, Pyro moved too easily. Then he stared. They hadn't been this close in a while. Close enough to see faint freckles.

Close enough to see a faint blush on the Iceman's face, a self-conscious shiftiness in his eyes.

"I really want to kiss you."

John blinked. Did he blackout for a split second? He had no idea if he'd said that, or...

The Iceman looked bewildered as his skin reddened further, reaching the tips of his ears. He stayed close to Pyro, pursing his dry lips before wetting them. Pyro couldn't keep his eyes off those lips anymore. In a low voice, he offered a continuation and a response rolled into one, just in case.

"I really want you to kiss me."

"I..."

In that one tiny word and the unsteady breath accompanying it, Pyro heard hesitation -- doubt. He blinked again, this time to snap out of his trance and search the Iceman's full face, his stance, everything.

And suddenly, it clicked. He'd messed this up. He'd gotten ahead of himself and started with the wrong confession.

Pyro finally let go of his arm. Almost before the frown in front of him could take root, his hand went to the Iceman's shoulder. He took a small step, and his other hand went to rest in the space between the Iceman's other shoulder and the side of his neck. He wanted to slide over to skin and stubble and the beginnings of a beard, but he held himself back.

"You don't scare me."

The Iceman clearly didn't believe that. Pyro went on.

"And you don't remind me of anyone else."

Oh, there it was. The bigger bundle of nerves.

"Bullshit."

He'd kicked a nest of murder hornets and almost got a few kicks in return. Luckily, Pyro had anticipated it, not giving the Iceman enough space to lash out or push him away. They twisted and pivoted but remained standing.

"No, it's really not."

"Fucking let me go."

"Listen to me first. Would you do that?"

The Iceman stilled in his arms. He leaned back, eliminating the last two inches between them and the smooth metal of the train car with a dull thud. When he next spoke, Pyro wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"I don't want more lies, okay? Just stop."

"I'm not lying to you."

"I almost killed you, because I couldn't... I could have..."

"And I fought back, and I fought dirty. Y'know why else I got over it so fast? Exactly because of this, right here. Now, listen. Please."

His mouth was too dry, though -- Pyro was too parched and exposed, and the words were stuck in his throat. He traced the lines of the Iceman's battle suit, briefly sparing a thought to the extra clothes they'd managed to find, how much more comfortable he looked in them. Then he stopped and looked up, finding the Iceman's gaze already meeting his eyes.

"I haven't been... avoiding your name or anything like that. In my mind, you're Iceman--the Iceman--and I... I wasn't that close with him. I didn't want to be. The two people closest to me in my entire life were... They were..."

"...They were family?"

Pyro nodded, his jaw clenching and unclenching. What little they each had was gone. When he started to look away, the Iceman guided him back with only one finger on Pyro's chin. His head tilted minutely, and with the new angle, his deep blue eyes blazed brighter in the frozen twilight.

"When I look at you, I only see you. No one else. No one else fucking matters."

It warmed and loosened something inside of Pyro, to be able to give the Iceman something and receive something equal back.

After some brief whispering, the Iceman ducked down, their limbs making quick adjustments as their mouths aligned like they'd
kissed a hundred times already.

They took their time exploring -- feeling, touching, encouraging, and appreciating. Whenever they paused for air, they shared a soft laugh. Eyes closed, Pyro felt the Iceman kiss his cheek, then his jaw. He suddenly wanted to shave his beard -- get it out of the way.

"Don't. It suits you."

"I won't if you won't."

"Deal."

From:

creepy_shetan

(Omg, it's so weird not having to cut the above fill into two or three comments, but also so nice and convenient! :D)

Part 1 | John + Bobby

Part 2 | John +/ Bobby

Part 3 (also here on DW) | John + Bobby + Logan + Wade

From:

brumeier

So much tension between these two! Glad that they were able to come to an understanding in the end, and shove all the past baggage behind them, at least for now. Thank you so much for filling this prompt!

From:

creepy_shetan

It really got away from me for a while. I honestly thought that they'd get to the kissing after a couple hundred words (okay, more like 300~400 words), but John really needed to explain. XD;; Thanks for reading this mess, for your very nice comment, and of course for the prompt! ❤

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, whoosis (an object or person whose name is not known or cannot be recalled)

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, kismet (fate; destiny)

From:

creepy_shetan

(Part 5! Now with even more X-Men feels! ~~How did we get here?!~~ I guess I had one more in me this week? :D? 6^^;;; Parts 3 and 4 are also in this post, along with LJ links to 1 and 2. There's some Deadpool movie stuff in those, mostly in Part 3, but no direct spoilers.)

Climbing back to the top of the rope, the Iceman sat on the edge of the open hatch, his flashlight off.

"It looks all clear to me. No bodies, and no more damage than you'd expect from it landing upside down."

Still, Pyro frowned in thought while he drummed his fingers on his own flashlight.

"No one's raided it yet?"

"Doesn't look that way."

They both figured a plane like this would hold some basic necessities -- as well as things that would be nice to have, but they hoped they wouldn't need to resort to using.

"Do you have a bad feeling about this? 'Cause I have a bad feeling about this."

"You said that about the cat."

"And I was right!"

He knew how it sounded, to still be arguing for that point, when he was the one who'd arranged a spare blanket into a bed for her by her favorite perch when the other hadn't been looking.

The Iceman looked at him now, quite unimpressed. Then he lightly scratched the back of his head and considered his answer.

"I got a weird feeling earlier, but not a bad one."

There was a short pause before Pyro sighed in a long exhale. He shrugged.

"Good enough for me. Let's go."

Flashlight on, Pyro slid down first. An open flame wasn't a great idea when entering an enclosed space, especially one involving jet fuel. Nothing smelled odd or looked leaky, but there was no point in risking it.

Wordlessly, Pyro pointed to himself and then the front of the plane. The Iceman nodded, beginning his search of the storage compartments and fallen trunks and boxes in the back.

The cockpit wasn't as separated from the main passenger area as they'd expected. Then there were the seats themselves. The plane didn't exactly scream "military," or really any other category Pyro could think of.

"Hey. Come look at this."

When the Iceman stood near Pyro, the upward beam of Pyro's flashlight caught on a name on the back of the pilot's seat, and then it swung higher to a couple of mementos taped between buttons and switches. No photos, but one was a square sticky note with another name signed at the bottom.

"So, 'Beast' was the pilot. There's a locker in the back with that name on it. Didn't see one for... What does that say? 'Aurora'?"

Pyro had barely skimmed the bright yellow note. He craned his neck to better read it and suddenly leaned back, like he was dodging a blow. He'd never be fast enough to avoid a gut punch like that, though.

"...'Ororo.'"

The Iceman's gaze shot over to Pyro. What the long shadows didn't hide, Pyro covered with one hand.

"...Did you know 'Beast,' too?"

"No... but that could be anybody."

Pyro dropped his hand and turned to the Iceman, his gaze hard. He followed him to the personal storage lockers in question.

Besides 'Beast' and 'Storm,' there were half a dozen other names printed on neat labels, making them easy to read upside down. Neither recognized any of them.

Then Pyro found a couple more, lower (higher) than the Iceman had initially noticed. When he moved the fallen bins blocking them out of the way and read out the names, the Iceman was immediately by his side.

"I knew a Jubilation Lee."

"That's a hell of a name. Could easily be shortened to 'Jubilee.'"

"Yeah. I think she would've liked that... Everyone called her 'Lee' or 'Julie.'"

The Iceman touched the locker, then the handle. He didn't open it. Instead, he gave it a soft pat and slowly stood.

"Let's get the med kits and get out of here. We can come back later."

Pyro had no complaints. The Iceman climbed back up the rope first, then pulled up the two loads of supplies Pyro tied to it. Before it was his turn, Pyro threw one last glance toward the 'Jubilee' locker and then the 'Storm' locker. He was grateful for the fresh air and the steadying arm that greeted him outside of the plane.

From:

nagi_schwarz

Kudos to you for writing a series! I love when prompts inspire a whole series. Thank you for the fill!

From:

creepy_shetan

I don't know what's gotten into me this month, besides the good ole "writing as therapy" motivation. 6^^;; Thank you, I'm the most amazed of anyone by this, haha, and thank you for the prompt!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, defenestrate (to throw a thing out of a window)

From:

smallhobbit

“Lucas, what happened to you?” Ros demanded as he and Adam came onto the Grid. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt and your clothing’s ripped. Are you badly injured?”

“A few bruises, nothing major,” Lucas said, “no need to worry. Schnell and his mate found me in their room and decided to try a little defenestration.”

Jo gave a gasp of horror.

“But they’d forgotten they were on the ground floor,” Adam said with a laugh. “So Lucas rolled when he landed and, meanwhile, I burst in on them, taking them unawares. And then Lucas promptly climbed back in through the window, so they basically gave up.”

From:

brumeier

LOL! I can just see Lucas coming back in the window he'd just been tossed out of! Great use of the prompt word!!

From:

smallhobbit

Thank you very much - nothing like making an entrance!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Thank you for this fill! Glad Lucas’s tumble out the window wasn’t too perilous.

From:

smallhobbit

Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. I imagine a few bruises are an inevitable part of the job.

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, mellifluous (sweetly or smoothly flowing; sweet-sounding)

From:

vonseal

Dongmin awoke to the sound of Myungjun giggling.

It was his preferred way to be woken up. Listening to Myungjun talk or whisper or laugh – really, he would appreciate waking up to any noise Myungjun might make. Except it was far more difficult to find the joy in Myungjun’s voice when that sweet, beautiful giggle was meant for someone other than Dongmin.

He sat up on the uncomfortable mattress – which wasn’t really a mattress, just a bundle of straw, and gazed upon Myungjun and Jinwoo, who were seated nearby. Myungjun noticed him first and smiled sheepishly.

“Did we wake you?” he asked.

“Obviously,” Dongmin responded, trying to stretch. Sleeping on such an uncomfortable mattress was really bad on his bones – and he was once again realizing that he was aging and was not nearly as flexible as he was in his youth. When he was much younger, he could sleep in any position and feel fine. But now…

He sighed and raised his eyebrows at Myungjun, who continued to smile back. “What’s going on?”

“I was just telling Jinwoo here about who you are. He’s confused as to why I have some random stranger living with me.”

Jinwoo nodded his head and looked Dongmin up and down. “You are a time traveler?”

“I’m not–” Dongmin sighed. “I come from a different universe, not necessarily a different time.” He stood up, trying to stretch all the more. “And I’m here to protect Myungjun.”

“See, that’s what I don’t understand,” Jinwoo started. He didn’t look distrusting; on the contrary, he seemed to accept Dongmin’s words without much of a fuss. Dongmin had initially assumed he and Jinwoo would be enemies. He was used to the different Myungjuns not loving him back – that was common. The few he had met thus far did not form any sort of romantic relationship with him. However, they never seemed to form a romantic relationship with anyone. This was the first to have a significant other (though Dongmin was unsure how deep their relationship ran). He was intimidated by Jinwoo at first. But after spending a day in his company, he realized Jinwoo was a wonderful match for this Myungjun. He was loyal and attentive and sweet and thoughtful. Dongmin couldn’t find it in himself to hate poor Jinwoo.

“You came here with no weapons and no knowledge of our world. How do you suppose you’ll protect him?” Jinwoo continued. His voice was not one of accusation. He looked curious.

Dongmin knew he deserved an answer. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and even if that wasn’t a good answer, it was as good of an answer as Jinwoo would ever receive from him. “I’ve…been trying my hardest. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know how to accomplish my goal. All I know is I will do whatever it takes to protect him.”

Jinwoo pursed his lips and nodded his head, then glanced back at Myungjun. “He’s my closest friend,” Jinwoo said, and Myungjun’s cheeks turned red. “I’ll help you protect him, if it comes down to that.”

“Friend?” Dongmin echoed, and Jinwoo’s eyes snapped back to meet Dongmin’s.

“Yes. Friend.”

Dongmin didn’t believe that for a second. “Are you two not…together?”

Now it was Jinwoo’s turn to blush. He cleared his throat and murmured, “It’s…complicated.” He didn’t expand on that, but Dongmin was still much too inquisitive and refused to let it go.

“How is it complicated? You both like each other.”

“In your time and world, perhaps that’s fine,” Myungjun replied. “But, here…” He trailed off and looked at the ground.

Jinwoo reached a hand out to tentatively pat his shoulder, but he was quick to drop that same hand the moment Myungjun shifted slightly.

Despite his better judgment, Dongmin felt sorry for them. It must be terrible to live in a world where they had to hide their own love. On the moon, he was free to love whomever he wanted and no one batted an eye when they saw two men or two women together.

“You two are allowed to love each other in my presence,” Dongmin assured them, and he smiled, though his heart clenched slightly in his chest. He wondered if his own Myungjun would be upset that he was giving up on love so fast – or would his own Myungjun be happy? Was he being loyal to the memory of his deceased husband, or was he squandering his chance with the man he loved?
The ethics and intricacies of traveling were difficult to comprehend. Dongmin tried not to focus on it.

Myungjun eyed Dongmin, then asked, “You mentioned I am the same person as your husband, just in a different universe. Are you not…jealous?”

His heart clenched all the more. “There are a lot of similarities between you and my husband,” he acknowledged quietly. “You both look the exact same, and you talk the same, and you both have the same naive trust and the same thoughts and the same mellifluous voice–”

“What the hell does that mean?” Myungjun asked.

“It’s…you sound nice, is all. You have a pretty voice, just like him.”

Myungjun narrowed his eyes. “Are you mocking me because I am not as educated as you are? Not all of us can live on a crater-filled moon, Dongmin, with access to schools and colleges – which I assume the moon somehow has.”

“I’m not–” Dongmin chuckled a bit at the absurdity of it all. “I’m not mocking you, Jun. I promise.”

Myungjun and Jinwoo both stared at him, and Dongmin wondered if he said something wrong. He continued as if he hadn’t, for that was the best course to take in times like these. “Whatever the case, I love you only because you are similar to my husband, because you all share the same blood. You are him, just in a different universe. The love I have for you is not the same as what I had for my husband, but…I love you and will protect you. I promise.”

That seemed to soften the look in Myungjun’s eyes. He glanced at Jinwoo, who offered him a small smile, and then back at Dongmin.

“Well,” Myungjun said, then he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “considering when I met you, you passed out from dehydration, I don’t know how much some old man with no idea of how to survive in the desert is supposed to help me.” Then, before Dongmin could argue (and take offense to being called an old man – no one had ever called him old before), Myungjun was quick to grin at him. “But I accept the help. Even if I’m certain I can beat whatever time-traveling weirdos come to steal my blood. I actually have weapons, unlike some people.”

Jinwoo shook his head sadly. “Seriously, Dongmin, I doubt you’ll make it too far without weapons. Junnie, should we train him?”

“That’s a good idea!” Myungjun exclaimed. “And we need to put him to work, anyway, so maybe he could help me on patrols! Though, I’ve never had someone so old before working and training–”

“Seriously!” Dongmin snapped, and Myungjun laughed at his frustrations.

But Dongmin would be called old over and over again if it meant he could hear Myungjun’s sweet, beautiful laughter for as long as he lived.

From:

nagi_schwarz

Oh, but this is a heart wrenching addition to the ‘verse. Myungjun is in love with someone else, and all Dongmin can do is ache quietly. All the teasing about his age is cute and funny, though, a good balance to the angst. Thank you for the fill!