theresalwayshope | 003} can't no preacher man save my soul [video/spam]

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003} can't no preacher man save my soul [video/spam]

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[When Alan Argent wakes up in the morning...something doesn't feel quite right.

He can't really put his finger on it as he gets up to take a shower. He's a little confused as he strips off his shirt, wondering if he was really that exhausted that he forgot to put on shorts before he went to bed the night before. It's all sort of...fuzzy...

The real problem comes when he gets to his closet...and it's filled with girls' clothes.

He lets himself freak out for...maybe a minute. He frantically searches every hanger, his bureau, even under the bed, but there's nothing he can wear. And he damn sure can't run around the Barge in just a towel.

It takes a while, but he finally finds a pair of gym shorts in an unlabeled box in the back of his closet. There's also a couple of t-shirts in there, and Alan doesn't understand what it's doing there. It's not supposed to be in that back corner, underneath his case of carbon arrow shafts. It's taking up the space where another box should be...

Alan takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He's already lost it once, he can't let himself fall apart again. Besides, he has to find Lydia and make sure she's okay. Maybe this was one of those floods he kept hearing about, but one that just...swapped out all their clothes?...

He slides on the shorts, not bothering with a shirt. It's already weird enough, wearing someone else's clothes. Grabbing his comm, and the sheath with his ring daggers, Alan stalks out of his cabin and into the halls, where anyone can run into him.

First, he'll check on Lydia. Then they can make sure the rest of the pack is okay.]

[PACK FILTER]

Guys? Something weird is going on.

[The male face with a certain familiar bone structure is bouncing a little on the screen. He's not bothering to keep his voice down, and he's clearly walking through the ship's corridors...and he's not even remotely happy.]

I woke up, and all my clothes? Gone. It's like I'm living in a girl's room. I just...this isn't right. So just let me know you're all okay, or I'm gonna come and break your cabin doors down. [The threat is quiet, gentled with a sliver of forced humor, but the concern in his tone is very genuine.]

[Private to Lydia]

Lyds? You okay, babe?

{GENDERSWAPPED ALLISON! XD All of "Alan" Argent's replies will come from

youowemeanewbow.}

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[Only a couple of things in that statement register, the first making Alan frown in confusion and feel...well, a little bit annoyed that nobody told him sooner.]

We can ask the Admiral for things?...

[Then the other part hits him...and confusion melts into a Cheshire grin.]

You...were a princess? Like...a Disney princess? [Oh, Lydia, Alan is going to tease you for the rest of your life about this...]

Oh yeah. He doesn't always get it right, but you can definitely request it. Stiles just asked for some inhalers. He got a ton of them though.

[At least his mood seems to have improved at the possibility of teasing her. Which is kind of why she mentioned being a princess in the first place. Allison would definitely have gotten a kick out of it.]

Well, not so much of a Disney Princess. I don't think the Disney ones accidentally kill their entire kingdoms? [It's said lightly, because she doesn't think any of that was real, but she does feel some guilt in there. Especially since something similar did happen to Elsa.]

[Alan winces visibly at that, and his image on the feed begins jostling heavily as he starts to jog his way up to Lydia's level.] Yeouch, babe...addition to Pack Movie Night: you and me, one night a week...I'll give you a foot massage, you can do my shoulders, and we'll watch whatever boring-ass Stephen Hawking documentary you want while you tell me about every single flood, port, and fucked up thing that's happened to you without me here.

'Cause seriously? The Admiral's gonna answer if I don't like what I hear. [And the steely note in his voice makes it pretty clear that he's serious.]

Edited 2014-07-10 18:02 (UTC)

Al-- [lison. The name dies on her lips because she doesn't know what her best friend is called. Or thinks is called. But there's no need for him to start running.] There's no need to run. I'm fine.

I don't know if the Admiral has any control over any of the floods and ports. And everyone here knows they are only temporary. [Apparently boy!Allison was a whole new level of protective.]

Going against him is not what we want.

[He's used to 'Al,' however, when he's being scolded, so it doesn't even register as he flashes her a lazy smile through the still jostling feed.] Babe, it's the stairs...and I'm out here in nothing but shorts. I'm rushing, not freaking.

[At least that was his story, and he was sticking to it. And yes, maybe he was a little overprotective and had been since the whole deal with Jackson...but it was all he had.

They were all he had.

His mother had never wanted him, and his father...he was too busy trying to live up to the task of leading their family when it wasn't a thing male Argents did. With no head of the family, Chris Argent was it. It was a heavy burden, and Alan respected him for what he was trying to do...

But the Code didn't change. Dad still thought they could hunt, but with more wisdom, with greater care...Berzerkers and Wendigos, things less civilized and willing to live peacefully alongside humans than werewolves.

And Alan didn't want it. We Protect Those Who Cannot Protect Themselves...that was his new Code, the one he followed in silence. Every breath, every act followed that new personal law, and when he'd told the pack they all looked at him with such respect and so much...love...

They were proud of him in ways his family never would be.

So maybe he was a little extreme in living up to their expectations. Being the man Scout thought he could be, earning the kind of trust Lydia put in him with her friendship and her confidence, even the respect and camaraderie that Stiles had always offered him, rather than mistrust because he was dating the guy's best friend.

He'd seen too many lives end because the Argents hunted those who hunted them. He saved more by protecting others...so he was going to protect the people who mattered to him at any cost.]

And it all depends on what the Admiral can control. [Anyone who could make deals like the one he made...saving Stiles, destroying the Nogitsune...he had a hard time believing a guy like that couldn't avoid trapping his whole pack in some cave somewhere and somehow inducing an asthma attack in an Alpha werewolf.]

You talk like I don't know you. [And as strange as it may be, she does know him. As much as she knows Allison. Just from chatting with him over video, it's obvious that their friendship is very similar for him. No matter how strange it may be, their essence is the same.

Which is why it's so weird not to even know what he calls himself. He probably knows her better than most people (maybe aside from Stiles because he really knows her better than she knows herself). And she thinks she knows him just as well, too, except for his name.]

You are not going after the Admiral. You keep that up and I'm just not telling you anything.

Hey, just 'cause you know me doesn't mean you know me. [The words come with all the warm familiarity of a well-loved retort...one he's used to using just about every single time Lydia calls him on his bullshit, and he's about to let her handle him.

If nothing else, his little jog means that he's nearly at her cabin, which means he goes still in the middle of the corridor and the feed suddenly stabilizes.]

And that? Right there? Threatening me? Will not end well for anyone.

[SPAM]

[Killing the feed, Alan grins as he heads down the corridor to her cabin and pounds on Lydia's door with his fist about three or four times. Yes, he's being obnoxious, but she's his best friend. He's allowed to be obnoxious with his best friend.

Just like, when she opens the door, he's allowed to rush her, stooping down so he can scoop her off her feet and over his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he uses his bare foot to shut the door of her cabin and blandly carries her further into the room with a grin, as if this is something he does all the time...and it is, at least in private, when she starts ordering him around and he knows he's going to give in and do what she wants so he decides to be a brat by picking her up like a caveman or tickling her or hogging all the popcorn when they're watching a movie.]

Still think you can tell me what to do?

[She's still not entirely sure how to deal with this flood because, well, her best friend is suddenly a guy and all that. But he seems to be a little more laid back than Allison so maybe she can figure out a few things about the female version through him? Guys don't have the pressure to hide their feelings as much as girls do, after all. It doesn't make them weak.]

Well, that certainly took you--

[And then Lydia half gasped, half yelped in surprise as he just lifted her over his shoulder like she weighted nothing.]

Allison! What are you doing? Put me down! [The name slips off her mouth because really, she's shocked that anyone would just pick her up like that. And get away with it!]

[...okay, now Alan knows there's more to this flood than meets the eye.

Setting Lydia carefully down on her feet, he draws back to gape at her, expression etched with deep confusion and something else, something deep...something almost wounded. He's ignoring that for the moment, though, because it's Lydia. She'll do a lot of crazy things, but hurting people...hurting him even in a moment of thoughtlessness...isn't one of them.

His hands stay on her shoulders to keep her there, firm but gentle as he raises an eyebrow at her.]

Babe? Why would you...ever call me that?

[The second her feet hit the ground and she sees the look on his face, Lydia gasps and lifts a hand to cover her mouth because, yes, she does realize her mistake almost instantly.]

Oh my God, I'm so sorry.

[She lifts her hands to his arms and squeezes them gently, her eyes wide. She doesn't want to upset him. He never needed to know until the flood is over. She remembers how confused her mirror self was when Stiles started acting differently, and she was hoping to spare Allison. But obviously, she failed miserable.]

It's the flood. It's messing with us.

[Alan's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but it's starting to fit into place as he regards her unflinchingly.]

You mean...messing with me.

[His tone is matter of fact, sure...bleak in its pragmatism, as if someone screwing with his head, his heart, his life in general is par for the course, something he's used to. It doesn't seem to faze him...it's all a knife that just slides a little deeper into him, but at this point it's familiar.

At least, these days, he has his pack to lean on when the wound gets sore.

With a deep breath, Alan steadies himself, his hands sliding off Lydia's shoulders to rub her arms, brisk but gentle...instinctively trying to reassure her despite the fact that he's the one that feels off-kilter.]

The clothes in my room...now this...it's me, isn't it? Flood's not fucking with our cabins, it did something to me. Just tell me, Lyds...I can take it.

[She doesn't know what to say, or how to answer his question, so she just watches him for a moment. She knows it's useless, lying to him. Because if he's anything like Allison, she'd know in an instant.

So with a deep breath, she nods.]

It's messing with you. I think it's somewhat like the mirror flood, where different versions of ourselves, from different universes, take over the version we're used to. This happened a few floods ago, Scott and I changed but Stiles remained the same.

[She hesitates for one second.]

The version of you I know, is a girl.

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