Chapitre 13: Wake-up Call – Chapter 13
Seeing a giant half-dragon thing twitch on the asphalt while foam wells up through the four slits of its snout and a crimson pool spreads below him is…
Ah, who am I kidding? [This is awesome!
Lisa Wilbourn adrenaline levels currently—]
Fuck yeah! I am finally getting what Taylor likes so much about—
[Taylor Hebert low levels of affect indicate low likelihood of—]
Nuh-uh, I just beat a dragon; you can't bring me down!
[Colin Wallis intervention likely stopped lethal—]
That wasn't an invitation!
"Tattletale?" My knight in far-too-exotic armor asks as he re-stabs the groin with his totally-not-a-Merchant-thing, hypodermic halberd. My hero.
"She's doing her thing; better to leave her to it," my distressful not-quite damsel answers, her arms relaxing from around my waist as she leans back on her seat.
"We beat a dragon! Whoo-hoo!" I enthusiastically punch the air. It knows what it did.
Still, my bike wobbles, so I'd better contain my unrestrained aggression. Next time, air. Next time.
"I would say [I] beat the dragon. You were adequate bait, though."
"Didn't you see that wickedly awesome drift thing I did with the bike? That totally counts!"
"Ah. That was intentional. It's worse than I feared."
"And you weren't in the backseat, holding on for dear life…"
"You liked it! Can't lie to me, your heart rate and—"
"That was horror, Lisa. [Horror."]
"Totally awesome horror!"
For some unfathomable reason, Colin chooses this moment to stop poking Lung with sharp things and palms his visor.
[Colin Wallis likelihood of muttering 'goddamn adrenaline junkie teenagers—']
"Shut up, I am not an adrenaline junkie! I am a dragon-hunting junkie! Totally different!"
Taylor and Colin look at me for a moment. After a few seconds in which I start fidgeting on my trusty bike, Taylor gets off it.
"Sooo… What can you get her for underage driving without a license?"
"You snitch!"
"Much less than I can for stealing a vehicle."
"Requisitioned in the line of duty, there's a difference."
Taylor is lifting her mask so she can pinch the bridge of her nose, and Colin is poking his visor in a way that—
[Nervous habit, never managed to get out of—]
Yep. Trying to.
My mask, which allows free, unrestricted pinching of bridges, is objectively the best mask around here. Bow before my mask supremacy, fellow dragon-slayers.
[Dragon Slayers mercenary group likely a hindrance to Dragon worldwide—]
Fine, fine, I will choose another name. Some jerk always needs to have the awesome ones picked.
[Chubster—]
All right, I'll give you that one. Totally not a jerk.
"Are you [done?"] Taylor asks, in a way that reminds me I am still [officially] banished to the sofa we don't have.
"Uh… think so? Sorry, that was a rush."
"And stealing a bank [wasn't?]"
"Meh, far too many negative connotations. I mean, sure, we got away with it, but having to break Panacea wasn't—"
"You did [what?"] Aaand Colin looks pissed. And he's stabbing Lung once again.
Uh, I guess there are worse ways to deal with stress.
"I—look, I am sorry, but I really didn't have a lot of options, okay? She was two seconds away from giving Taylor pancancer, and I just had to poke at the house of cards that is her mental stability."
"Tattletale…" Colin takes a deep breath and sighs before his tone drops back to something he may use when not stabbing a regenerating mass murderer. "You are going to fix her."
"Uh… Of course. Already planning on it."
"He has a lie detector. Also, '[pancancer?'"]
"You try to come up with a short name for getting cancer everywhere that doesn't sound punny."
"All-encompassing cancer. Omni-cancer. Cancer-hydra," Colin offers.
"… If I find out you are using some kind of virtual intelligence to give you dialog prompts to cheat…"
"Says the Thinker five."
"Hey!"
"Lisa, [honey,"] and isn't that a loaded word, "you just used us as bait to drive the omnicidal dragon on a wild chase while dodging fireballs, driving a vehicle you have never tried to use before, and your only plan was for Armsmaster to show up out of the blue."
"… Not stupid if it works."
Colin, once again, sighs.
"I expect some amount of recklessness out of teenagers, and even more so out of teenaged parahumans. Still, this was—"
"He was two minutes away from murdering the Undersiders and Faultline's crew."
He pauses, looking straight at me.
"You [have] a lie detector," I remind him.
"And Thinkers get things wrong all the time."
"Yes. We do. Name one thing I have been wrong about since you met me."
Finally, he lifts his visor and [then] rubs the bridge of his nose.
"Fine. Justified risk. Still, if your plan really was for me to intercept, we should have coordinated better."
"You were in the middle of a mission. Your coms were being monitored, and you weren't about to pick up the phone."
"I—there are ways around that."
"That you have yet to explain to me. I will be expecting a personal coms device with our next batch of micro-cameras."
"Your—you already destroyed them?!" Oh, wow, I have never seen that particular vein pop. Marvelous definition. It must work out a lot.
"He did!" I point at Lung's far less reptilian, yet still twitching and foaming, form.
Colin stabs him again. Lung gurgles.
"Won't that… Isn't there a risk of an overdose?" Taylor asks, fidgeting slightly.
"Revised formula. Unless you have necrotized his groin once again?" Those words should never be uttered with such casual disregard for male solidarity. I stand in awe.
"He was already too scaly when he showed up." She shrugs with a hint of uncertainty.
"Damn…" Colin looks down at the dragon who is currently off trying to chase Puff, the clearly superior dragon.
He pokes his thigh. It twitches.
"Shouldn't I, I don't know, use the bare minimum amount of force to subdue an enemy or something? Isn't that somewhere on the manual?" Taylor, sweetie, try not to fidget so much when asking about excessive use of force, endearing as it is.
"Yes. Definitely. You should." The 'do as you're told, not as I do' is very clearly implied.
"Are you going to keep stabbing him until pick up shows up?" I ask. Rather unnecessarily.
"It is a possibility I had contemplated." And decided upon. Someone is grumpy.
"Right, so, uh, should we take our leave before—" [Noctis cape—] "Miss Militia shows up?"
Colin looks at me, then down a little bit, then back at me, and arches a very pointed eyebrow.
…
["Fine."] It isn't.
I unmount my steed and, after shooting him another dirty look, shove a hundred bucks into the compartment hidden below the seat.
There. My dues are paid.
Taylor looks at me, as I very definitely do not sulk nor pout as I look at the comrade we are leaving behind. And she sighs.
"You are going to buy another damn bike, aren't you?"
I look at her, my own eyebrow arched, and she sighs once again.
She asks the dumbest questions.
***
"You are not serious," I say, more hope than certainty in my tone.
"What was that you said? Oh right: 'Hey, I made my cute girlfriend feel bad; it's only reasonable I would want to make it up to her.'" The tone alone is enough for me to dock her 'cute' points.
She still has a lot of them, though.
"Quoting people at them is a very passive-aggressive thing to do, you know?" I shoot at her from the armchair where I have been banished to with just a blanket to protect me from the dreadful cold of the night.
"Would you prefer active-aggressive?"
…
"Lisa…?"
Taylor wearing stilettos, a black leather corset, a [garter belt and black silk stockings…]
'You need some… discipline, Lisa,' she would say, as she slapped a riding crop on her gloved hand and stood over me, my hands bound in—
"Lisa!"
"Uh?"
"Ignoring me is [not] a good way to ingratiate yourself with your still pissed-off girlfriend," she says as her hands tighten on the bed covers.
"I… I could say what I just did was the polar opposite of ignoring you, but then I would have to explain, and I don't think I am up to—"
"Right. Rambling Lisa. How surprising. Good night, [honey."]
And she turns the lights off and lies down.
"Tay…"
She turns around, the still discernible silhouette of her profile showing me her back.
I grumble in a very dignified manner.
I mean, all right, I get it; I not only worried her unnecessarily, ran risks without telling her anything, and ended up acting like a total spaz due to my adrenaline high, but…
I am [certain] there's a 'but' in there.
…
Power?
[Lisa Wilbourn in early stages of infatuation—]
Go fuck yourself.
Okay, [fine], I can think [myself] out of this. I mean, being banished to the couch is bad enough, but doing it when we don't even have one is a bit beyond the pale, so surely there must be something…
Well, let's see, how would I feel if it was Taylor needlessly risking life and limb without telling me anything and—
Oh, that [bitch—]
Uh, I mean, in that hypothetical scenario, I am [sure] I would be reasonable and listen to her [goddamn excuses after she once again—]
Wait, wait, deep breaths, didn't she precisely do this very same thing earlier tonight? She was about to rush off to punch Lung in the face! And, and—
And she listened to me. Stopped. And followed my plan.
…
Who is she, and what has she done with my Taylor?!
[Taylor Hebert behavior consistent with increased trust in—]
Oh, rub it in, why don't you?
And no, I am not flushed in pleasure. This is just…
[Lisa Wilbourn in early stages of infatuation—]
That's your answer for everything.
Uh, well, since about a week ago.
Dear God, how bad do I have it?
"You really need to work on those fugues of yours," Taylor's voice says from right above me.
"I… Was actually thinking. About something important."
"Oh? Am I interrupting you?"
"Yes. I was just in the middle of a momentous epiphany."
"What about?"
And I sigh before turning over so I am looking up rather than to the side.
"I am sorry I was so reckless, and annoying, and hyper, and… I have just… My life has been completely upturned, and I am in a transitional period where I don't know where I stand, what I can salvage from my past life, or what I should try to salvage," I swallow, trying very hard to push through the knot of utter vulnerability doing its best to block my throat. "I spend half the time trying to act like I know what I am doing, and the rest of it trying to reassure you that everything's going to be all right, and trying as hard as I can to make that not a lie, and I… You have your father, your old life to go back to when things calm down, but I left everything behind, and all that I had been building is now burning down, even if I was forced to build it, but it was mine, and…"
I swallow. Blink my eyes clear. Taylor waits.
"And I love you. More than I thought, more than I expected, more than a stupid, hormonal crush, because you are you, and I want to think even in a world without powers, and bullshit, and drama I would have, maybe, come across a girl with gorgeous hair reading a book on the Boardwalk, and I would have said hi, and maybe asked you to get a coffee with me, but you would have said you preferred tea, and I would have teased you with a posh, British accent, and…"
I reach up, my fingers trailing the soft skin of her cheek, peach fuzz almost ticklish on my fingertips.
"I want to think this is real, Tay. Not just because it's the only thing I have, but because I cannot stand the thought of a world where I didn't meet you and fell in love with you."
My voice trails off, and I [know] I have said too much. Too fast. This is crazy girlfriend territory, the kind of thing you don't say until after months of dating, and even then you don't blurt it out like [that], like some kind of verbal—
"You still are sleeping on the couch."
"Armchair." I can't help myself.
"Whatever it is, you are sleeping on it."
I hold back a sigh. At least she's not freaking out. Outwardly.
[Taylor Hebert using power to channel outburst of—]
Yeah. I had guessed as much.
And then she climbs over the back of the armchair and drops down on me.
"Wha—"
"The bed was cold." And she kisses me.
Her lips… Soft. Always soft, even when dried out after far too many hours wearing a mask that forces her to neglect them. They may be rough, dry, but when she presses them down on mine, they are always marvelously soft. Captivatingly so.
And… And now they taste of cherry Chapstick.
I start laughing between tastes of her, peals escaping me in the moments where she deigns free me from her kiss.
I love her so much.
And then I start crying, and the cherries mix with salt, and it should be awful, but…
It isn't.
Having her hold me as I come undone, as I allow myself to break in her arms, sure that she will gather the pieces…
I have broken the law professionally, flaunted each and every rule I was supposed to be held to, fought everything that has tried to tie me down.
And here, allowing Taylor to see each and every jagged line, each and every exposed wound…
I have never felt so free.
"You are infuriating," she kisses my neck, "talk too much," bites down on my earlobe hard enough to make me gasp, "always, [always] need to have the last word," takes my lips, as if silencing me, "and you are about to get me in far more trouble than I can handle."
Her arms push her up, and there's just enough light for me to see her face a handspan away from mine, a study in sharp contrast and soft shadow.
"I wouldn't change anything. Not for the world," she says. And I cry that much harder, and she drops down, our legs entangled over the cushioned arm, her arms gathering me between the sheet she allowed me in my exile.
I cry myself out, surrounded by this warmth I have come to expect at night, the scent of her shampoo barely strong enough that I can still take it in after clearing my nose, and I finally burrow my face into her chest, her steady breaths enough to lull me down, to allow me to bask in the feeling of relief and emptiness after letting out whatever it was that I had been carrying for far too long.
"Are you sure you—" I can't help but break the silence, and she can't help but lay a finger on my lips.
"Lisa, I came over because I was still riding my own adrenalin high, and I was [that] close to allowing my cute girlfriend to maybe try to make up to me the awful evening she made me go through. And now I am cuddling you on this infernally uncomfortable thing, because I am [definitely] not letting you sleep on the bed after what you pulled earlier."
And she looks at me, her eyes softening as she allows emotion to travel back into her body, her arms tightening around me with a strength that becomes more desperate after every second.
"And I love you so much, I would have lied and told you I found your British accent funny."
We hug, desperate, clinging to one another with a need that can't be healthy, with a yearning we shouldn't be feeling, not after this short a time, not just because we are far too used to trusting each other with our lives, not just because we have seen what we are in the face of death and that's a bond we shouldn't have had at our age, with our circumstances.
But we have that need, that yearning, that bond. We have them. And we cherish them.
So I lean down to whisper into her ear something that I just need to say
"Bitch, my accent is hilarious."
She punches my arm, and we cuddle ourselves to sleep.
***
"This was an awful idea," I groan as I try to get back enough feeling in my left arm that I can complain about how much it hurts. If my screaming back is anything to go by, I won't lack for excuses.
"Your punishment, don't complain," Taylor is massaging her shoulder, a grimace she doesn't bother to hide on her face. My suffering is shared, yet not lessened.
I look at her, sad puppy eyes firing on full power.
"… Fine, no more armchair."
Victory!
"But the moment we buy a couch, all bets are off."
… Pyrrhic victory.
"Can we at least run a bath?" I ask her with no hidden agenda at all. Pinky swear.
"Uh, I mean, it's not like we are paying more for the room if we use more warm water, are we?"
"Funny that you would use the plural about paying…"
"Hey! I mean, I guess I could use the money from the bank job if it's an issue—"
"Shush. Kidding. I am a millionaire, remember?"
Ah, that doesn't look like the face of someone being reminded of—
"You are a [what?!"]
"Uh… I never told you?"
"Do you even know how worried I was about all the money we were throwing away like it was going out of style? Couldn't you have mentioned that [tiny] detail a bit earlier?"
"Tay, you are complaining about your girlfriend being loaded." I feel like I am being perfectly reasonable.
"Communication! It's important!" I feel like she isn't.
"Uh, well, surprise?"
She grumbles and steps into the bathroom.
After a few seconds, I can hear the bathtub filling.
Victory. Let's hope it isn't Pyrrhic.
With more anticipation than I should, I approach the door and look inside. Taylor is leaning on the sink, arms crossed over the black shirt of her pajamas, looking as the water level steadily raises.
"So… you were worried about spending too much water?" I ask with perhaps too much uncertainty.
Taylor raises an eyebrow.
"That may be the worse excuse I have ever heard from you to get naked with me."
"Does that mean…"
She sighs and steps forward, her arms surround me, and she kisses me, a trace of cherry still on them.
"You don't need any excuses with me, Liz."
And I smile. Wide, unrestricted, a small something that is nearly a sob clenching my chest.
I return her kiss and laugh, unbidden, unprompted.
Free.
==================
This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 81 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone