So this popped into my head.
Don't ask me why.
I just got fixated on a thing.
So I did this thing.
Peter Port was twenty-two years old and moving at the pace of a grandpa. It wasn't his fault, though. It was Glynda's, just not intentionally. They were on a mission together in the far northern quadrant, dealing with a small invasion of Beowulf Grimm. It had been a fairly simple task until he was blindsided by an unusually nippy one. Glynda blew it away with an explosion, but burned Port's back in the process.
He had just gotten home after Glynda insisted that he visited to infirmary to get wrapped up. His teammate was horrified when the nurse pointed out a deep cut in his leg that he hadn't even noticed. He had to get bandaged up while getting yelled at by Glynda, which was a scarring experience, both physically and mentally. She insisted on walking him back to his apartment, pointing out that if someone attacked him, he wouldn't be able to fight back. Port knew that, deep down, she was really just concerned, even though she looked angry on the surface.
He bid her goodnight before stepping into the elevator that led up to his floor. He turned the key in the door and opened it, smiling as two furry sausages ran up to him. It was Elf and Drei, two of his corgis. They barked as they waddled up to meet him, their tails wagging happily. He looked around for a third, but remembered that Oobleck had taken him with on his mission to the south east.
Port shuffled through his spacious apartment with agonizing slowness. He made it to the kitchen, noticing a note on the table.
Dear Bart and Peter,
You forgot to get a dog-sitter, so I opened up the doggy door again.
Just close it once you get back.
Love Ms. J.
Port smiled. Ms. J was their next door neighbor. She was old, wrinkly and taught yoga during the week and Krav Maga over the weekend. Their apartments were connected by a door that had been welded shut. The doggy door still worked, something Port didn't realize until a few months after getting his corgis. He only found out one day when Ms. J came by and asked them about how the little dogs kept magically appearing in her apartment. Now, whenever the two boys were out on a mission, Ms. J would just open the doggy door and let the pooches in.
He would have to remember to invite her over for tea sometime to thank her.
He walked slowly over to the door, pushing a wooden block in front of the doggy door to keep it closed. He went back to the kitchen and opened up a bag of food, driving the corgis crazy as they danced around him. He shook a little extra into their bowl because they are just such good doggies before putting the bag back.
With the dogs taken care of, Port made his way to his computer and sat down, groaning as his shirt rubbed against part of his burn. A screen appeared in front of him, activating once it sensed his presence. The green, holographic keyboard projected out of it and he quickly typed in his password. It logged him on immediately and he quickly opened up one of the many icons and began tapping away at the keys. He wanted to get his report done and get to his warm, soft bed.
He noticed at the bottom of the screen was a little red flag popping up. News. He hadn't been on his scroll all week because of the stressful mission mixed with bad connection. He clicked it out of habit and another page filled his screen, screaming a headline.
MOUNTAIN GLENN FALLS TO THE GRIMM: DEATH TOLL IN THE THOUSANDS.
Port froze, any idea of doing his report and getting to bed forgotten. He clicked open links, scanning over the articles, listening to news reports. They all said the same thing: the new branch of humanity had been destroyed, over run with Grimm. Bodies and shadowy monsters everywhere. Recovery impossible. Potential survivors underground.
And then a report from the previous day saying that the underground hideaway had been breached and everyone inside killed.
All in a week.
Port felt like he had just swallowed a bucket of ice. He sat in front of the computer, staring at the screen, with only one thought in his mind.
Oobleck.
His computer started to ding again, messages coming in from his teammates, Glynda and Ozpin, as well as his other friends, like Summer and Qrow. All telling him that Bartholomew would be fine. That he was tough. He didn't know whether to respond or just ignore them.
Port heard a jiggling of keys in the door and jumped up. Pushing the door open was his skinny green-haired partner, the one he had almost had a heart-attack over, back in one piece with a black and white corgi in tow. Port hurried across the room to Oobleck, dodging the two other corgis that were rushing to say hello to their friend. Port said his name, but Oobleck didn't look up, instead focusing on removing his bloodstained overcoat.
"Bart," Port said, grabbing his friend's shoulder. The young green-haired hunter froze before turning to Port. His face was pale and strained, making him look much older than he was. Both lenses of his glasses were cracked, something that was reflected deep in his empty brown eyes. "Are you hurt?" Port asked quietly, noticing the blood on his friend's shirt. He was surprised that Zwei was clean of any blood, considering his typical role as Oobleck's furry little canine projectile.
"It's not mine," Oobleck said, his voice cracking. Port pulled him into a hug, ignoring the weeks worth of dried blood that practically covered him. He was a head shorter than Oobleck, that didn't matter. "There were so many Grimm," Bart whispered.
"You're home now, that's all that matters," Port said. He could hear his friend's heartbeat racing in his chest.
"I need to take a shower," was all Bart said. Port nodded, but kept his arms wound around him.
"Are you okay?" Port asked, not letting him go. Bart didn't say anything, just wrapping his arms around Port's shoulders. "Bart?"
"I'm done," he choked out. "I don't want to fight anymore."
"Okay," Port said immediately, nodding into his chest. "We can send the corgis away. Taiyang would be happy to take him. His kids would love to play with them. And I'll talk to Ozpin tomorrow and ask him to put us in an education-only track."
"Even you?" Oobleck asked.
"Yeah, at least for a while. I need a break from the danger and fighting. Not as much as you do, but still," Port said, finally releasing Oobleck. He looked up at his face carefully, taking it in. He was more than willing to hang up his blunderbuss for Oobleck. They both knew that. "Are you okay with that?"
"That sounds nice," Oobleck nodded, taking off his glasses and passing his hand over his face. "I need to take a shower," he said again, moving past Port and heading towards the hall where their bathroom and bedroom were hidden.
"I'm going to make something to eat. Does pasta sound okay?" Port called after him. All he got was a thumbs up in reply. He set to work, speed-boiling the noodles and heating up pasta sauce from a jar. After fifteen minutes, Oobleck emerged from his shower. With the blood washed away, Oobleck's heavy bags stood out against pale skin and bloodshot eyes.
Port could see tears running down Oobleck's face. He pulled him into another hug, feeling long arms close around him. Port guided him over to the couch, bringing him a warm bowl of pasta and encouraging him to eat. Once Oobleck managed to force down some food, Port decided that the two of them deserved some much-needed rest.
He sent Oobleck to bed while he tidied up the kitchen, putting away food and rinsing dishes. It took all of ten minutes. When he went to their room, he found Oobleck already snuggled under the covers, asleep. He could tell that this sleep was different from his usual, though. It was twitchy and disturbed. Port felt a pang of sadness for him. Bartholomew Oobleck was a good man, so of course he would be tormented by what had happened in the southern quadrant. It would take him a long time to make peace with it, that much Port knew. He also knew that he would stand by Oobleck and help him through it, something that they had done for each other in the past.
Port slid into bed next to Oobleck, pulling him close in his arms. After a few moments, he drifted off, joining Oobleck in the land of nightmares.
I've never really written a lot of romance, so I wanted to try out a relaxed, backgroundish romantic relationship and I felt that it would work out in this story.
I was also really intrigued by Oobleck talking about what happened in the southern quadrant, so I thought I'd write this.
Tell me what you think of it.