#as kids visiting we just knew mom had (another) surgery

[lesenbyan]

Man it's been a whole ass like 5 or so hours but I'm still so annoyed at a coworker who was talking to me about someone and mentioned she figures if doctors decided surgery wasn't necessary she always counts it as good. And I think about visiting my mom in the hospital after they spent the night in the ER and ended up almost septic before they decided "okay fine I guess we should cut them open" so much so that their intestines swelled out of the incision when they were doing the surgery and they were told that like. If it was like 10m later it'd've been too late. And I think about people like my coworker. And I'm angry and terrified all over again.

[shion-yu]

Day 26: Cardiac Arrest

Another story surrounding Shu’s near death experience. 2,604 words, TW for severe domestic abuse, hospital setting. @sicktember

They said Shu’s heart had stopped while he was in surgery. Alex didn't quite know what that meant, because he always thought when someone’s heart stopped they were dead. Sure he knew CPR existed, but being told his adoptive father’s heart had stopped beating in surgery - that a machine was still responsible for keeping him breathing - felt so serious. “But... He's still alive?” He had clarified in confusion.

“Yes. We were able to get him back,” the surgeon explained to him. “However there was a lack of oxygen to his brain for several minutes. Between that and the brain injury, we’ll have to wait for him to wake up to see if there is any lasting damage.”

Alex’s hands were balled in fists at his side, shaking. “Can I see him?” 

“He’s in recovery now,” came the reply, “We’ll come get you as soon as we can move him back to the floor though.” 

“Thank you,” Alex said faintly, but the surgeon was already gone. Alex was left alone in the hallway, surrounded only by strangers who didn’t know Shu or him. Alex wondered if they were also having the worst day of their life - or maybe second worst. 

Alex had not felt this alone since he had been twelve. He remembered waking up in the hospital after the explosion and asking for his mom. He never forgot the look on the nurse’s face as she hurried away, pity in her eyes as she went to fetch the police woman and child life specialist who told him then that both his mom and his dad were dead. The neighbor who always used to babysit him was dead too, as was her pet cat that Alex loved. In the blink of an eye, everything was gone.

That's when he met Shu. Apparently Shu was his second cousin, maybe third. Whoever he was, Alex had never heard of him before. He just knew he didn't want to go home with anyone who wasn't his mom or dad and only glared at Shu when he showed up at the hospital. 

He didn't think Shu would stick around, but he did. He visited every day, even when Alex was withdrawing from the methamphetamines that had seeped into his system by way of his parents’ recreational activities, despite never having purposely exposed himself to anything but cigarettes. He continued to visit while Alex spent a week on the pediatric psych ward, making Alex one of the only kids there who actually had someone there waiting to see him every evening. Alex was so angry - at everyone and everything - that he hadn’t appreciated it at all back then. Shu’s stupid face appearing every day represented all of the loss he was suddenly faced with. Alex screamed at him, hit him, and told him some really horrible things. And yet, Shu never went away. Every day he simply took Alex’s anger, told him goodnight, and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” And he always was. 

They hadn’t really been apart for more than his sleepovers at Ryo’s house since Alex had moved into Shu’s house. Alex didn’t like to go far from the things he’d slowly grown to find comfortable, nor did he have a reason to. Between Shu, Ryo, and Fulu, Alex had what he needed in life. A family. People who he trusted to stand up for him, even if he didn’t like to think he ever needed any help. People who managed to make him smile and feel things after the long, waking nightmare that was the months following his parents’ deaths.

But now this reality was crumbling, too, and Alex didn’t know if he’d be able to survive losing it all again.

He blamed himself, to a certain extent. He and Shu had fought plenty over the years, but they had always been able to work it out. This time it seemed like such a different, difficult topic. There was no simply apologizing and getting over it, because Julian was still there and Alex was still at Ryo’s. They were both hurt, but Alex had never expected Shu’s reluctance to leave Julian was so much more than just an unhealthy attachment. He hadn’t known Shu was scared to leave, and that hit him the hardest. He felt like he should have figured it out when Shu had started hiding things from him.

It was true that in the beginning, Shu had asked him if it was alright to accept an offer for a date from one of his clients. Of course Alex had said sure, whatever, he didn’t care. In all the years Alex had lived with him, Shu had never gone out with anyone. Alex didn’t even know what kind of person Shu would even date. But it didn’t seem like a big deal. Alex would be going to college next year - he was going to move out, hopefully into an off-campus apartment with Ryo, and that stress of this impending change had seemed to rock Shu more than Alex felt was fair. He wasn’t going to stay a kid forever, no matter how much Shu had become his real father. So he even thought maybe it was good for Shu to get out there and find someone else to focus on.

The problem was, Julian didn’t care about Shu. Not in the right way, anyways. Alex had thought it was just obsession - that Shu was way too into his new boyfriend, and it made Alex feel jealous. It all made sense now: the hiding his texts, how Shu would scurry out of the room to take phone calls, and why he would miss dinner together because he was out with Julian. Why the time Alex had walked in on Shu changing his shirt, Shu had become so defensive about Alex knocking when he never had before. 

But hindsight was 20/20, and Alex just felt like he’d been replaced. He’d seen the texts Julian had sent Shu, telling him to come over and Shu agreeing, even though he and Alex had been watching a movie together. But more than that, texts where Julian berated Shu for choosing to stay home with his selfish teenage son. Most infuriating, the texts where Julian was angry because Shu had turned his location off for just a few hours. And Shu, despite Alex thinking Shu was a strong person, just apologized profusely for doing wrong. It was so pathetic, so weak. They argued hard, and when Alex finally worked up the nerve to ask Shu to break up with Julian and Shu said no, it damaged something inside of Alex. It felt like a blow to the intense trust they’d built up over years and years. And so, he ran away.

Ran away was a strong term. Alex was seventeen, and it wasn’t like he didn’t drop by to grab his stuff every so often. Shu knew exactly where he was and that he was safe. But for a few weeks, Alex refused to talk to Shu. He slept at Ryo’s house and didn’t answer Shu’s many, many phone calls. It stung too much. Ryo told him he should try and talk to Shu, but Alex thought they’d talked enough. If Shu wanted to choose someone over him, so be it. That was his choice.

“He loves you more than anyone,” Ryo said one night, holding Alex in bed. “There has to be more. If you just talk to him-“

“He made it clear that Julian’s more important to him,” Alex interrupted him. He pulled away from Ryo and faced the wall, the anger and hurt inside of him boiling. “I’m done talking.”

Alex wished he hadn’t been so hard headed now. Maybe if they’d talked about it, Shu would have admitted why he let Julian walk all over him. But Alex doubted it - after all, Shu had only admitted it in the end because Alex had seen the proof.

He’d come home to grab some more things and Shu had begged him to come home. It made Alex so angry, he pushed Shu away from him. It had been years since he’d been physical with Shu, but Shu had been crying, telling Alex he was sorry over and over again and that he wouldn’t let Julian get in the way anymore. Yet when Alex said, “So you’re leaving him?” Shu hadn’t been able to answer no. He tried to touch Alex and Alex snapped, shouting, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Shu crouched after being pushed, guarding his abdomen and clearly in pain. Alex knew he hadn’t pushed Shu that hard, and suddenly things clicked. He grabbed Shu’s shirt and pulled it up to reveal a huge, blossoming bruise. And it wasn’t just one, either. Suddenly all of those little accidents Shu had been having over the last few months made sense. Alex saw red.

“Tell me who did it,” Alex said. “It was Julian, wasn’t it?” 

“Alex, please. He - he’s not that bad. It’s my fault,” Shu said, and those words just filled Alex with more rage. He didn’t want to believe Shu was this weak - and he wanted to kill Julian. He should’ve killed him, Alex thought now, instead of letting Shu go in by himself to break up once and for all. He was stupid not to think there wouldn’t be consequences. When he’d given Shu an ultimatum - him or Julian - Shu had chosen Alex. But in the midst of such intense emotions, Alex hadn’t considered what Julian was really capable of. 

He couldn’t stop feeling Shu’s blood on his hands, hot and sticky, no matter how many times he scrubbed them in the bathroom. Alex sat on a chair in the waiting room, staring at them, shaking. He had to tell Fulu. He needed Ryo. But he couldn’t bring himself to call either of them. They’d blame him, he thought, and he’d deserve it.

Eventually he texted Ryo to just come to the hospital with no other explanation. Of course, Ryo tried to get more out of him, but Alex didn’t answer. Ryo got there within fifteen minutes, and as soon as Alex saw him he crumbled into Ryo’s arms.

“That bastard almost killed him,” he said, angry tears wetting Ryo’s shoulder. “He did. They said they had to shock him a bunch of times. I’m so stupid.” 

Ryo led Alex to a quiet corner and sat him down, holding Alex’s hands to prevent him from scratching his arms anxiously. “It’s not your fault,” he said gently.

“You don’t know that,” Alex said.

“I do,” Ryo said. “And now we’re going to be there for him.”

A nurse came and got Alex then, stating Shu was out of recovery and in the ICU. Alex could come see him, if he was ready. Alex didn’t feel ready, but he held onto Ryo’s hand and followed her upstairs.

He couldn’t recognize Shu in bed. Rather, he didn’t want to recognize him. His dad looked so tiny, engulfed by machines that were keeping his heart and lungs pumping. He had several IVs running god knew what through his veins, a tube down his throat, and huge metal cage around his leg. Worst of all was his face though. Even with bandages, the bruises and cuts Julian had caused while beating Shu were visible. Alex felt sick. Only Ryo’s hand on his back kept him from running.

“You can touch him,” the nurse said gently. “You just have to be careful.”

But Alex didn’t want to touch Shu. He was too scared to. Not only did Shu look already broken, but he felt guilty even standing here, intact. He sat on the vinyl couch against the wall and said nothing. Ryo was the one who ended up calling Fulu. It was the only time Alex had ever seen her cry, which just made things harder. 

She hugged Alex after a while, looking more like herself after she had wiped away her tears. “At least you’re okay,” she whispered to him.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, his voice breaking.

She pulled back and looked at him very seriously, her small hands on his shoulders. “No. Not your fault,” she said, as if she knew it was the only thing Alex could have needed to hear from her. 

They took turns waiting for Shu to wake up. It was three days before Shu responded at all, his fingers twitching when Alex finally held his hand. Another day before his eyes opened and the doctor examined his blown pupil and shook his head, telling them Shu would probably never see out of his right eye again. The police talked to Alex a lot, and he thought any time he’d end up locked up for what he’d done to Julian. Despite hours of questioning, it never happened. Apparently it was obvious enough that Alex had acted defensively on behalf of Shu. Maybe he went too far, they said, and Julian could press charges for battery, but it wasn’t comparable to what he’d done first. Alex wondered if Shu hadn’t woken up in time to stop him, if he really would have killed Julian. Even in defense, he didn’t think that would have been a total get out of jail free card.

Shu spent most of that first week too sedated to know what was going on. Alex felt relieved by that, knowing Shu could at least rest for a while before the pain of what had happened - both physical and the trauma of it - would inevitably hit him. The night before he was extubated, Alex fell asleep with his head on the side of Shu’s bed. He woke up to Shu’s hand resting on his back. Just like when Shu finally squeezed his hand, that one movement made Alex feel like things were just one small step closer to normal.

Things moved faster after Shu was able to breathe on his own again. He was having trouble speaking, and his memory of what had happened was scattered at best. But he was still him, and that was what mattered. He was more concerned with Alex’s small row of stitches above his eye than someone in his position had any right to be, and that made Alex laugh for the first time since before it had all happened. “I’m fine. It’s nearly healed,” he told Shu. 

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Shu asked him. “You promised me you weren’t skipping classes.”

“I’ve been a little busy here,” Alex said incredulously, but he went back to school the next day. He was still staying at Ryo’s house. Every day they would go straight from classes to the hospital, visit Shu for a while, then head back to the house to do homework. Shu was making progress, slowly but surely. Some days he seemed more confused than others, but for the most part it was an upward trajectory and for that, Alex was relieved. Fulu and Mathias were taking care of the legal matters with a lawyer.

“When can I go home?” Shu started asking. Apparently he had to go to rehab first, but Alex knew he meant their home. 

“Soon,” Alex told him. “We’re going home soon.”

Shu’s eyes flashed with recognition. “You too?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. He wanted it as much as Shu did. To just be the two of them again, in the place they called home. Maybe things would never be quite the same again, and Alex would still graduate and move out in a few months. But he knew for a fact that nothing like this would happen again, he’d make sure of it.

[oldfangirl81]

For anyone who hasn't seen me rant before about why the Buckley parents hit my sore spots here I go again...

Buckley parents were upper middle class from what we can tell. They buried a child and didn't allow anyone to grieve. They cared more about appearance and reputation than their kids. They gave therapy a try but quit one session (to be fair this might be a fanon one). They emotionally neglected and abused their kids. They put the blame on the kids for not making it easy on them.

Now my paternal grandparents were middle class and advancing to upper middle class when my dad and his sister came along. Money became their focus.

They had substance abuse issues but the socially acceptable kind. My dad avoided substances because of it. My aunt scored from their med cabinet and liquor cabinet. My Dad tried to be the perfect child to earn their love and respect. My aunt rebelled every chance.

In her very 20s she was starting to get her life together when she was killed crossing the street by a drunk driver. After her burial my grandparents shamed my father for expressing grief. They rarely would allow her to be spoken of. Dad became a traffic cop largely in part because of her death.

As I got older I had some of her mannerisms even though she was long dead before I was born, to their pain.

They would actually help when I was hospitalized but it was more about appearance then strictly helping my parents.

When I first got sick in preschool my grandparents offered my parents money to have plastic surgery on my ear. So that if I couldn't be perfect on the inside I'd be perfect on the outside.

My grandfather offered my mom a mink if she'd give him a second grandchild. Might have been one of the first times Mom saw Dad go off on them. My birth could easily have killed Mom and Dad never wanted to risk her life again like that. He even had a vasectomy, which eventually his parents learned of. (Probably because I told them Dad couldn't have puppies anymore. My folks had used the puppy getting spayed around that time to try to explain in kid friendly terms.)

My relationship with them started to deteriorate around the time I really started thinking for myself. It got so much worse after 11 1/2. I needed an ileostomy to save my life really. Or at least give me a good quality of life. My grandfather was there when they did the finale test. He heard me screaming through the lead door.

He still called me directly the night before surgery to say "Can't you just learn to handle the pain? I'd rather be dead than have an ostomy." I repeat I was 11 1/2 years old. I said I wanted the surgery and hung up on him. I have never once regretted my ileostomy, only that they didn't make it permanent on the first surgery, it took three total over 18 months or so.

Both my grandmother and grandfather died in Sept '22. I hadn't seen them in person since the early '00s. I rarely spoke on the phone to them either. Rarely exchanged cards or letters.

Another thing they hated was me having short hair. "too butch" and "you'll never find a husband" bullshit. As a kid I kept it short in part out of spite. But it was also easier with my health then.

I don't think they ever knew I was bisexual. I used to joke the only way I'd ever visit them was if I had someone pose as my tattooed lesbian biker girlfriend.

So yeah. The quickest way to make me hate a show is to pull that "family is blood and must always be forgiven" or "they tried their best, so the damage they caused is fine because blood" bs. I've stopped watching other shows over it.

[arrow-dodger]

My dad's mom died on Saturday. I called her Nanny.

I can't put what I feel into words. I can barely sit down and think about it at all. But I can try to write it just to get it out of my head.

I haven't seen her in years. I've been estranged from that side of my family since I was maybe 22 or 23. To paraphrase, they're bad people. They were emotionally abusive, purposefully cruel, manipulative, selfish and volatile my entire childhood. I don't think either of my grandparents loved me, or even knew how to feel or show love in a way that I would recognize. I don't think they know me or anything about me, nor have they ever tried. The concept of "family" on my dad's side is just an endless loop of people possessing other people.

My mom always told me that since Nanny wasn't a loving person and Pawpaw (her husband) was a serial philanderer, my dad grew up in a household where not only did he have emotionally absent parents, but parents who fucking hated each other. And that's true. My entire life they had separate bedrooms and seemed to loathe one another entirely, but were just together because they had already been together that long, so they might as well ride it out. I know my dad is an adult and a father himself so he should have some kind of blame in his own actions. I just think I resent my grandparents a bit for growing him to be as emotionally absent as they are. My dad is still a little boy hiding under a bed in many ways.

As a person, I would say Nanny was best described as "unhappy." She barely smiled and always had something to fret about. She was always affronted by everything other people did, even if it had nothing to do with her. My mom has many stories of her throwing fits about things as an adult woman. She was critical and high-strung. At the same time, I know she was good natured in some ways. She gave a lot of gifts. She was always there to offer food or do laundry with a particularly challenging stain on it. She watched us as kids often enough and I know she watched her great-grandson (my cousin's kid) a lot too. I wasn't afraid of her as a child and I didn't dislike her, I mostly felt such a distance from her, especially compared to my mom's mom who I have always been very close to.

Every good memory I have with Nanny or that was set in her house ties directly back to some other weird or bad one in my head. I remember decorating Easter eggs with her, using dyes and stickers with crosses and other religious symbols on them, and her snapping at me for putting the stickers on my body because it was sacrilegious. I remember that day we ate Dairy Queen. I assume my sister was there, but we might have been so small that my brother wasn't even born yet. That would be over 20 years ago now. That story is funny because she was by far the most religious person in my family. She collected ceramic angels and claimed that once after she had some kind of surgery, Jesus himself visited her room and she kissed his feet.

I remember breaking one of her glass birds and cutting my hand on it. I remember climbing through her bedroom window because we locked ourselves out. I remember my sister and I playing with our Palm Beach Barbies in the fishing boat in the backyard. I remember mixing "potions" in her second bathroom. I remember her big black dog Magic, who seemed like he was the size of a horse to me because I was so small. I remember watching The Last Unicorn on VHS countless times in her bedroom, with an out-of-order treadmill in front of the bed and images of Christian angels decorating every surface. At her house we had the most random collection of toys, and books about dinosaurs. I always played with the toys in the sink of the big bathroom, the one with the poem about the color purple on the wall, and rummaged the drawers for her lipstick. Her feet were so small I could wear her little gold lamé slippers.

I remember her walking with us to Dollar General and buying us random little toys sometimes. Once I went there with her by myself when I was probably about nine and I remember her going on about how I was prettier than my sister and not to tell her. When I got older and my brother decided he didn't want to come visit my dad anymore because my dad was always drunk and terrifying, I remember Nanny and my aunts talking about how selfish that was of him. My brother, not my dad. And my brother was eleven years old.

I remember getting catalogues and catalogues of childrens' toys to pick from for Christmas. My grandparents and aunts always viewed buying us things as their way of expressing love, and even then it was barely that because it was always held over our heads later. I don't remember my grandparents ever asking me questions about myself or getting to know me. I don't remember them ever hugging me or being physically affectionate besides when we'd say goodbye. I don't remember ever feeling close to them in any way other than by proximity. In fact, most of my memories of going to their house involve them being in other rooms (or Pawpaw being in his shed in the back yard) ignoring us while we made our own fun, playing in the sink or watching a movie in the bedroom alone or playing Harry Potter in the front yard. In those memories everything is extremely quiet and empty.

When I'd go to her house as an adult she'd always give me random bits of food. Once she gave me a whole bunch of bananas. Then she'd spend the entire time guilt tripping me about how I didn't chat or visit often enough (I can't think of one time my grandparents have ever called me on the phone or invited me to their house) and talking about what things in her house I'd inherit when she died. It was always a pretty grim time.

When I got old enough and realized I was allowed to not be around my family anymore, I just... wasn't. There's no talking to them or reasoning with them, so I just fucked off. Nanny wasn't ever the reason for my estrangement honestly, it was my aunts (her daughters) who have both said and done way nastier shit, though she did join in things like enabling my dad to be an abusive drunk and actively sabotaging my parents' relationship. If I told every story about my aunts being awful throughout my life, I would be stuck here for days. Nanny might not have been as bad but she didn't separate herself from them in my mind, as she was always quieter than them but definitely on their side. We were never close. I never felt like she cared much about me or whether I was around or not. If she did she certainly never said anything about it to me, nor did anyone ever convey the message.

Not very long after I distanced myself, both of my dad's parents got pretty deep into dementia. My sister still visited every now and again but they didn't really know who she was. So even if I had still been around it wouldn't have made a difference, I think.

I've been distancing myself from my dad a lot lately already, so her death comes at an extremely weird time. I also can't attend her funeral tomorrow because there's a massive winter storm headed this way and I would risk being stranded. I wanted to go, too. I wavered on it because I'd have to see my goddamn aunts and their families and I know I'd be accosted and chastised and harangued by many different people. It would have been an emotionally exhausting experience for everyone, but it would have at least functioned as some kind of closure for me.

I can barely mourn my Nanny. There wasn't a loving relationship there to mourn. But I'm mourning some other things instead, like how my dad lost a parent, and my other family lost a loved one, and as weird and self-centered as it sounds, how I never had a relationship with my grandparents. The only relationship I've had with that side of the family the majority of my life has been manipulation, verbal abuse, them viewing my siblings and I as possessions and bargaining chips and using us as weapons, never being truly loved or truly known but existing as a concept and told to fit into a specific mold and to sit down and shut up and pretend along with the rest of them that we like each other. And that sucks shit.

Other people talk about these great relationships they have with their families. Other people have stories about grandparents who have always been there for them and supported them. Support is the last thing I ever got from any of those people. They have always actively resented me. They all wish I was someone else. I was the first niece and granddaughter born on that side and I know they all wanted a do-over. Luckily for them they have my sister instead, who barely remembers our childhood and lived far away for most of hers and also has some kind of infinite bandwidth for people who are cruel to her.

I wish to god I could say I was sad and hurt and missing something important from my life. Instead I never had it to begin with, and that hurts in a different way.

Editing this to say: I know it may come across harsh to anyone who doesn't know the full story of my childhood, my parents' divorce, my dad's alcoholism, etc. etc. and the roles my family played in all of those things. I will never be telling the full story so just know the nothing I've said here is harsh.

[samayla]

My dad rescued a Pyr out on a construction site. An animal hoarder had been arrested on unrelated charges, and animal control had been called called to round up the dozens of dogs who had been accidentally set loose, and take them to the shelter. My dad knew it was likely a kill shelter, and big dogs are considered the least adoptable, so he asked the officer who had this absolutely massive Pyr cornered by his company van, if he could take him.

The officer said, "If you can get him in your van, he's yours, and I never saw him."

Dad said, "Ok," and opened the door. "Up you get," he said, and up that dog got. Dad named him Maximum Dog, or Max, for short.

Around the same time, my grandmother, who lived with us and suffered from dementia, was recovering from a bad fall in which she'd broken her wrist. She hated Max. No time for him whatsoever. Except for the part where she'd sit by the window and watch him in the backyard for hours at a time, and then when I'd come home from college to visit on the weekends, she'd give me a blow-by-blow account of everything "that damn squirrel" had done all week.

She loved to garden, but after her fall, Dad and I moved her plants up into pots on the patio, so she didn't need to do the step down or manage the uneven ground in the backyard. Max would meet her at the patio door, nudge his head up under her hand, and escort her carefully from pot to pot, always keeping between her and the edge of the patio, always leaning down when she did, so she'd still have a handhold while weeding or watering. Then it was back to the door. No negotiations. He only let her out when one of us was home. Otherwise, he had no problems simply playing Wall, apparently indefinitely.

He was also our saving grace one night during some severe weather. I was babysitting the kids of one of my dad's contractors while their mother was having major surgery halfway across the state. These guys were little. Littlest was 4, maybe 5. Oldest was 8. So mom was having big scary things done far away, dad wouldn't be back until well after bedtime, and they'd only just met me like the day before, when we'd gone to the park to get to know one another.

Then the sirens started. Tornadoes in the area. And there are no basements. You go to an interior room and hope. Littlest dude started to cry inconsolably, and after a couple of minutes, Max let out this low "boof." First and only time he consented to coming inside the house. He made a beeline for the littlest dude, stared him down for about 10 solid seconds, and then the kid was hanging off his face, snotting into his fur and hanging onto his ears for dear life, and Max just laid down to be a pillow for these three scared little kids, and that's how we spent the evening, all cuddled up with my "polar bear" and waiting for their dad to get back from the hospital with news.

[ynscrazylife]

Something Always Happens in Seattle

Request: “Can I request being addisons daughter and you having to get surgery and she just so worried and scared”

Summary: Addison gets worried when her daughter has to have a surgery.

Authors Note: To involve more characters, this is set in the later seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. AU that Derek and Mark are alive. Reader was adopted by Addison as a kid and came to Seattle for a visit.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | Grey’s Anatomy Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“I’ve been riding motorcycles forever,” Y/N’s friend had said.

“We won’t go on the highway,” Y/N’s friend had said.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Y/N’s friend had said.

And yet he had angered another motorcyclist on the road who had intentionally bumped into them, sending her friend (who sat in front) flying. The motorcycle skidded to the side, into a ditch, and Y/N found herself half-underneath the motorcycle. Her right leg was crushed by it while the handle had snapped and was now stabbing Y/N square in the chest.

Looking up at the rich blue sky, Y/N’s first thought was: ‘Shit’. Not only was she in an immeasurable amount of pain, but she had no clue where her friend was and the guy who had hit them had sped away. Thankfully, her phone had been in her left pocket and hadn’t fallen very far. It was still within arms reach, and Y/N managed to grab it and dial 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” The responder on the other line asked.

Y/N explained that she was involved in a motorcycle accident with a friend and told them they needed an ambulance at the road they were at. Once the responder told her not to move, Y/N insisted that she knew that, seeing as her mom — the famous Dr. Addison Montgomery — was a world-class doctor. The responder offered to stay on the line with her, but Y/N said it was alright. She had to call her mom and tell her she was coming, after-all.

“Chris?!” Y/N yelled, calling for her friend. When he didn’t answer, she cursed under her breath.

Y/N dialed her mother’s number and, after a few rings, she picked up. “Hey, kiddo. I just finished a surgery. What’s up?” Addison said.

“Hey, mom. You know how Chris took me out on his motorcycle today?” Y/N began, figuring that there was no beating around the bush.

“Yes . . .” Addison answered, trailing off and sounding a little worried.

“We got into an accident. Another motorcyclist crashed into us. Don’t worry—I already called an ambulance,” Y/N was quick to explain.

“Oh my god,” Addison said, gasping. “Are you and your friend okay?”

At Y/N’s hesitation, Addison let out a sigh.

————————————

Minutes later, Addison got off the phone and headed towards the nurse’s station, rubbing her forehead.

“Everything alright?” Mark asked as he and Derek approached. Other attendings and surgeons (Richard, Bailey, Meredith, Amelia, Lincoln, Owen, Teddy, and Jo) were nearby.

Addison planted her hands on the counter and shook her head, looking down. “Y/N was riding on a motorcycle with her friend and they got into a crash,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Is she okay?” Amelia asked, walking over to Addison and trying to comfort her.

Addison shook her head. “She said she was hurt. A lot,” she answered, trying to control her tears.

Amelia hugged Addison tightly and the rest turned away, giving her some privacy.

“Let’s meet Y/N in the ER,” Bailey advised the group, before leading them there. Amelia and Addison followed behind.

When they got to the ER, Levi and Taryn were wheeling Y/N in but Owen soon toon over. “She has a penetrating wound to the chest from the motorcycle’s handle. Her right leg was also pinned underneath the motorcycle. Stats are okay,” Levi told Owen, before joining Taryn in rolling in the gurney that carried Chris.

“He was unconscious at the crash and has an open wound to the head. Stats are good,” Taryn reported about Chris.

Knowing that Addison needed Amelia and not her ex-husband, Derek jumped to take Chris.

“Schmitt and Helm are with Shepherd. Pierce and Lincoln are with me,” Owen ordered, before pushing Y/N into the Trauma 2 room.

The rest crowded outside Y/N’s room, Amelia, Addison, and Mark pressed up against the window. “She’ll be okay,” Amelia assured Addison, rubbing the redhead’s arm.

They watched as Maggie assessed her chest, Link assessed her leg, and Webber assessed any other injuries. After a few moments, Owen poked his head out of the room. “There’s a lac on her head. Not sure if it’s just a cut or if she hit her head. Shepherd, can you . . .?” He said.

Amelia glanced at Mark. “Stay with her,” she said, and it wasn’t a question, before following Owen back inside.

Addison’s eyes fixated on her ex-sister-in-law, nearly pressing her nose to the glass. She watched as Amelia shined a light in her daughter’s eyes and instructed her to follow simple commands. When Amelia looked up and smiled at her, Addison let herself relax.

After talking to Owen, Amelia came back out. “Maggie is going with Y/N into surgery to remove the bike handle and then Link will have to do a surgery to repair the broken bones in her leg,” she reported, placing her hands on Addison’s shoulders to brace the redhead.

Addison stiffened, shaking her head. Logically, she knew that Y/N would have had to have surgery for the bike handle, but she hadn’t been thinking like a doctor since the second she heard Y/N’s voice over the phone. “Surgery . . .” Addison echoed, trailing off into a slight daze until Y/N was being wheeled out in the hallway.

“Y/N,” she said, gravitating towards her daughter and brushing the hair out of her face.

Although in pain, Y/N managed a smile as she saw her mother was worrying. “‘M okay,” she slurred slightly, from the blood loss and shock.

Addison smiled warmly, masking her fear. “I know,” she said. “I’ll be right by your side the moment you wake up.”

Y/N nodded a bit, and then Owen resumed pushing her on the gurney.

Addison watched until they passed through the doors. Amelia put an arm around her. “I’ll sit with you in the waiting room,” she said.

Amelia guided her towards the seats, with Mark following. The other doctors either prepared to scrub in or, if they could, joined Addison in the waiting room. Amelia sat next to her and Mark sat across from them.

For a while, Addison was silent, too deep in her own thoughts to talk. Amelia, Mark, and a couple others made small talk, but Addison didn’t look up from the floor until Derek joined them.

“Chris is fine, he’s asking about Y/N. Did they take her into surgery already?” Derek asked as he went to sit next to Mark, who nodded.

Addison looked up at her ex-husband and squeezed Amelia’s hand, who squeezed back. “He’s alright?” She asked, just to confirm.

Derek nodded, giving her his usual charming smile. “Y/N will do great,” he assured her.

Addison glanced towards the doors, tapping her foot. “I know,” she murmured, but didn’t sound convinced and didn’t bother to try and fool anyone. “It’s just . . . Two major surgeries. God, she must have been so scared, in so much pain and all alone.” She started tearing up just imagining that, and Amelia gave her a hug.

“Y/N handled it greatly, though, even if she was in pain. She called an ambulance, she called you. She got herself and Chris to safety,” Amelia reminded her, smiling.

“I should call Jake. He and Henry should know what happened,” Addison said.

Knowing that Addison already had enough on her plate with an injured daughter in surgery, Amelia pulled out her phone. “I got it,” she said, before dialing Jake’s phone number.

After a lengthy conversation, Amelia hung up. “Everyone is wishing Y/N well and wants updates. Jake, Henry, Sam, Naomi, Violet, Charlotte . . . you name ‘em,” she said.

Addison smiled, remembering the family she built in L.A. By now, a couple hours had passed. Doctors came and went, Amelia stayed at her side, and Derek and Mark only left if they got paged on an emergency. “Can someone get an update?” Addison requested of the group.

Mark nodded and stood up. “You got it,” he said.

He returned a few minutes later, wearing his usual bright and proud smile. “Pierce successfully removed the handle and Lincoln has already started repairing her bones,” he said.

Addison nodded, smiling and wiping away some stray tears. She shifted a bit in her seat uncomfortably. “I think I’m going go wait in her room,” she said, before standing up.

Amelia, Mark, and Derek all stood up with her. “You guys don’t need to come with me, you have surgeries and work,” Addison said.

“Excuse you, I want to wait for my niece,” Amelia said, and they both shared a smile and a laugh, before walking to the Nurse’s station.

“I second that,” Mark added, following her.

That left Addison and Derek, who turned to face each other. “I’d like to wait for her,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets.

“Are you sure?” Addison asked, not wanting it to be awkward.

Derek nodded. Together, they followed Mark and Amelia to the room that Pierce and Lincoln would be taking Y/N to. When they got there, Addison and Amelia sat on the opposite sides of the currently empty bed and Mark and Derek sat next to them, For the next few hours,  the only movements where either Mark or Derek going on coffee runs, getting snacks, or answering pages. 

After what felt like eternity, they brightened up to Y/N being wheeled in. Addison watched anxiously as they transferred her to the bed and got her hooked up to the monitors. When they left, Link stayed behind. 

“The surgery went very well. She’s going to need lots of recovery and physical therapy, but I know you’ve been waiting a while, so we can go over that later,” Link said. 

“Thank you,” Addison said, before turning full attention to her daughter. 

As Link stepped outside, Amelia followed. She wanted to thank him personally for helping out her niece and then went to get an update on Chris, who was staying for overnight observation. 

It took a bit for Y/N to wake up from the general anesthesia, but Addison and Amelia were at her side the entire times. Mark and Derek came and went, Link and Maggie checked in, and the other doctors visited. Jake even flew down with Henry and get well soon wishes from the doctors back in L.A. 

As terrified as Addison had been, she was just glad that her daughter was alright and was recovering. Trips to Seattle never failed to be anything but interesting, and all Addison (or anyone, really) could do was hope that nothing would top this trip in the ones they were sure to go on in the future. 

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @snipyloulou @cc13723things @passionswift @drayshadow @amaryllis23 @storysimp @lamieshelmy @galacticstxrdust @a-lil-bit-nuts @marvel-to-infinity @maryseesthings @lovelyy-moonlight @dumb-fawkin-bitch @thewidowsghost @cowboybabyyy @rootbeerfaygo @immathinker @espressopatronum454 @ladyrebel29-blog @1694​ @trashyxxkawa​ 

[shy-violet-soul]

Left of Bang

Characters: Captain Syverson & female you, OC parents

Summary: You’re used to holding up the world for your family. But what happens when you need someone to hold up the world for you?

Warnings: angst, reference to terminal illness, dying parent, hospital scene

Word Count: 2,400 ish

A/N: this is marginally autobiographical; my dad was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. As the oldest daughter, unmarried/no kids, helping out my parents has frequently fallen to me - never more so than over the last year. And I’m happy to do it! I see it as my vocation. But there are days when the world is so. Damn. Heavy. If only I really did have Sy here to hold me on those days… Also - many hugs and thank yous to my bestie and beta @thesassywallflower for giving this a review for me.

~~~~~

There are people that being in hospitals doesn’t bother ‘em. I’m not one of those.

It’s always been crazy to me that all hospitals smell the same. Even out in the desert, that same smell came through while carrying stretchers in or visiting my boys. Antiseptic, heavy duty cleaner, and bandages. And something else - I call it the “stress scent”. Sleepless staff, worried families, they all got it. Almost smells like sweat, but not quite.

Being here…the smell, the sounds, keeps trying to drag my brain back to memories I don’t want to see. Standing in hallways dimmer and dustier than these, repeating to every medical person what happened to my soldier. Why can’t they just write it down? Save a dude from having to relive it over and over.

“And when did the symptoms begin?” The soft voice was kind, but I felt my guts flinch at the question. The same question she’d answered about a hundred fuckin’ times.

“About a month ago, we noticed him shuffling his feet when he walked. Last week, he started losing mobility on his left side. He went to see his doctor, they ordered tests. They called him last Tuesday and told him to go to the ER because they suspected he was having a stroke. And he’s been here for the last 4 days since they transferred him here after finding the brain tumor.”

The latest specialist nodded as he spoke, his pen scratching as he hustled his handwriting to keep up. Then there was another exam of her dad, more questions, what prescriptions does he take. Now, I’m sure that this doctor, a kidney specialist, is an observant pro. They gotta be, right? But he’s only lookin’ at her dad. Which is good and right; he’s the patient, after all. Sometimes, he turns and includes her mom in the talkin’. Pats mom’s shoulder when her chin starts to tremble.

Nobody’s lookin’ at my girl but me, though.

She’s got that look. If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a hundred times - that numb kinda fatigue soldiers learn to fight through. The kind of stress that lives up high in your chest, squeezin’ the top of your lungs and leaves your eyes burning. Puts you on a weird type of auto-pilot - you look and sound plugged in because you’re working so hard to look that way. But it’s survival mode, all the same.

She started to get up out of her chair - I knew she wanted to offer it to the doctor when he leaned against the wall - but I kept her sittin’ with a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t look up at me as she listened to the doc, but her cold fingers reached up to squeeze mine. I glanced around the room as I listened - a habit of too many years for me to quit now. Her mama sat sad and tragic-lookin’, wringing her hands. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a woman do that until everything went to shit with Papa C. Mama C crumpled like a paper bag - she couldn’t handle even the simplest task without looking to my girl.

My gaze moved to Papa C. The man had aged 20 years in a couple’a days. Cancer’s a bastard. He listened to the doctor, but with the brain tumor and diabetes messin’ him up, I don’t know how much he’s tracking on everything. More tests ordered, surgery comin’ soon, and then goodbyes got the new doc out the door.

Despite my snacking, my belly growled right in her ear from where I stood behind her. Shit.

“Dad, I think we’re going to head home. Are you set for now until morning?” Up and moving again. Swear to God, she’s like an exhausted Energizer Bunny on the last bit of a cocaine high. I couldn’t stop my jaw from clenching as I watched her gather up the ziploc bags from her mama’s lap. She glanced at me once as she pitched the uneaten sandwich and crackers into the trash - she’d made all of us a lunch to try and stop the spending. Hospital life for families ain’t cheap, and cafeteria food got old real fast. My sweet li’l Hummingbird even went to the trouble of toasting my sandwich bread ‘cause she knows I like it, and crammed so many crackers in my bag the corner of one poked a hole in it. She’d eaten her own like she was gettin’ paid for it, even managed a few crackers. But her water bottle sat barely touched, and she hadn’t even opened the candy bar I got her from the vending machine bandit down the hall.

That’s the thing about soldiers - they learn to do enough to survive. More than that is just damn hard to do.

There’s a concept we learn in officer training called “Baseline + Anomaly = Decision”. Basically, you learn the ‘usual’ about your environment or person you’re with - that becomes your baseline. Then, you watch for any changes - anomalies. If the anomalies are a big enough issue, then you gotta choose a course of action - decision. And this concept is critical ‘cause you wanna keep you and your soldiers left of bang - before a bad thing happens. After the bad thing happens, now you’re right of bang and fucked.

Anybody else would look at my Hummingbird and not see anomalies. She’s up and movin’, walkin’, talkin’, doing her thing. Looking all kinds of like ‘baseline’. But I’m not anybody. And she’s given off anomalies fit to sink an Abrams “Beast” tank.

As Mama C started fluttering around the bed, I gathered up all her paraphernalia - the woman didn’t travel light. Hummingbird’s cheery voice reached me as I turned to watch her smack a kiss to Papa C’s forehead, rubbing his bristly bald head gently before she started trying to herd her mama towards the door.

“Well, Papa C, I’m gonna get your girls home. What contraband you want me to smuggle you in tomorrow?”

The older man smiled like I hoped as he told me, “a medium-well steak, Sy. Make it a sirloin strip.”

“10-4, sir.” I patted his shoulder and started to stand straight when he tapped my belly with the back of his hand. He glanced once towards the door where his daughter stood steamrolling his wife into her walker-wheelchair combo thing before he looked up at me.

“You take good care of her, alright?”

I leaned in close, wanting to reassure him. “You don’t worry about your wife, sir. I’m happy to watch out for her.”

He nodded once, glancing again at the women. “Thank you. But I don’t mean her.” His gaze was serious - almost a little sad - when he looked back up at me. “Beth has always leaned too hard on our oldest, and my little cupcake hasn’t always said no to her mama the way she should. I know she’s doing too much. She needs somebody to look after her.”

Seems a brain tumor and kidney failure couldn’t stop the former military man’s eagle eyes. I squeezed his shoulder, lowering my voice to just us.

“It will be my honor, sir.”

He rested back against the pillow, like I took a load off his mind. “You’re a good man, Sy.”

Mama C cried the whole drive back to her house. Thank the Lord that Hummingbird’s 7 year old brother was staying with a friend. She gave Mama C stern marching orders to eat, take her meds, go to sleep, and be ready to roll at 8:30am tomorrow morning. The minute we got in my truck, she went loose and quiet like somebody’d cut her strings. My lungs squeezed my chest tight as I realized - my little bird felt safe with me. Safe enough to stop fightin’ to survive.

The bright lights of the kitchen couldn’t hide her pallor. I helped her ditch her shoes onto the “HazMat mat” we’d relegated our germy soles to for decon each day, then urged her onto a barstool. In minutes, I had a pan of scrambled eggs and ham going. As an afterthought, I chucked in a couple handfuls of spinach. Vitamin A or potassium or some shit, but it was green and good for her. I wrapped up a hearty serving in a tortilla with a healthy dose of cheddar and handed her a plate.

“Hummingbird, why don’t you go take a shower? Or a good soak?” I watched her eat mechanically, that numb fatigued survival mode trying to kickstart up again.

“I will. Just gotta do the shoes and call Louise.” Her sister kept up a regular stream of texts and FaceTimes, but living 250 miles away with four kids and a husband working two jobs, she just couldn’t be here.

“Shoe duty is mine. Why don’t you text Lou the latest deets and tell her you’ll call in the morning?” There it was - that smile I loved. Just a hint of it, but I’ll take it.

“Did you actually use the word ‘deets’?”

I let my own smile stretch wide, pleased as punch when hers got bigger. “Damn straight, I did. ‘Cause I’m a cool ass grown up.”

She snorted around a mouthful of eggs, rolling her eyes as she scooped up her phone and hopped to the floor. “Alright, Captain, I hear you loud and clear.”

Even the simplest kiss she smacked on my face made my skin tingle. She didn’t see me smiling at her as she turned the corner for the master bath.

The minutes ticked by faster than I realized, and a quarter hour later, the shoe soles were Lysol’d and my emails were caught up. I could hear the shower as I made the hall, but when I sat on the bed and my shirt hit the floor, my heart went right along with it. Hummingbird wasn’t in the shower. She was sat on the bathroom floor, head back against the cabinet, just starin’.

That survival mode, all that endurance, had quit on her.

I squatted down in front of her, givin’ her space but lettin’ her feel my presence as I reached down and took her hands. Those fingers lay limp in mine - not even a squeeze.

“Talk to me, Hummingbird.”

Deep breath in and out - her movements so slow and heavy, it was like watching her underwater.

“I’m ok.”

I slid my hands into her hair, cupping the base of her skull, and rubbed the bones the way she loved. She sagged even looser into my grasp.

“You don’t have to be.”

Anomalies. Her swallow suddenly all tight. The way the left corner of her mouth quirked down a bit. Her bottom lip trembled. So, I decided on a course of action. I sat down cross-legged on the floor, pulled her into my lap, and hugged her up tight to me.

Left of bang.

She broke to pieces in my arms. Face in my neck, hands squeezing my shoulders fit to pinch, and cryin’ so hard my own eyes burned. And I couldn’t do a damn thing but hold her.

The shower kept on runnin’, but the water bill could go to hell. I ignored the steam as I rocked my girl, stroking her over and over. I wasn’t gonna tell her ‘everything will be fine, it’s ok’ when it sure as shit was not. So I just told her the truth for the now.

“I’m here, Hummingbird. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” At first, I wasn’t sure she could hear me, she was cryin’ so hard. It didn’t matter. I just kept on saying it - her heart was gonna hear it.

Coulda been 5 minutes, coulda been an hour, but those cries finally started to slow. Her hands stroked up my shoulders to my head, and she started gently rubbing my buzz cut. She told me once how soothing that was to her, and I never teased her about it again. She sighed all shuddery against me, and when she spoke, her little voice damn near broke me.

“I’m so tired, Sy.”

“I know.”

“My dad is dying.”

“I know.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I settled her in snug against me. We just sat and breathed for a minute as I rubbed her back up and down. I wanted to reach into her and take all that pain, and carry it for her. Seventeen years in the Army taught me - it just can’t be done. But I can damn sure clear a path and lighten that load.

I got her on her feet, then into the shower to get the hospital off both of us. That flowery lotion bar butter crap kept slippin’ out of my hands and she chuckled when I cussed at the damn stuff before I could massage it in her skin. Her eyes were tired but she smiled sweet at me when I kissed her belly. I rested my head there for a second, letting the water rain on me and feeling the warmth of my woman against me. We both needed this.

“I’m sorry I cried all over you.” Her voice hummed against me where I rested on her, and I couldn’t stop the frown as I looked up at her. She dodged my look and reached for my beard soap, but I wasn’t lettin’ this go. I stood up so I could get her full attention, cupping her face to look up at me.

“You don’t say ‘sorry’ for cryin’ with me, Hummingbird.” She didn’t say anything for a bit. My chin raised up a hair as the Ranger Captain in me couldn’t let go of it until I got the answer I wanted, and she needed.

Her hair moved against my hands as she nodded. “Ok, Sy.” Mission accomplished.

Later, I got her bundled into her favorite shirt she stole from me and a pair of those fuzz floppy socks she likes so much. I turned on her favorite piano music station on Pandora, then opened my arms for all the cuddles she wanted.

“Sy?”

“Yeah, little bird?”

She didn’t say anything right away. The dark room and quiet music were pulling both of us to sleep.

“It’s not gonna be ok. It’s gonna suck.”

“That’s true.”

“But we’re gonna get through it”

“Yeah, we are.”

She didn’t say anything else, and a few minutes passed with us squirming a little into more comfortable positions.

“Sy?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“I’m gonna get through it because I’ve got you.”

My throat closed up so tight, my swallow hurt. “You sure as hell do. And I’ve got you.”

So, yeah - hospital visits suck ass. But this is my new tour. My hummingbird needs someone to keep her left of bang. And I’ll report for duty every damn day.

[wishuhadstayed]

It Takes a Village

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: about 3000

Summary: when the Hotchner fam is in need, it’s a good thing to have many helping hands. Part 9 to Begin Again.

Warnings: mentions of blood and pregnancy complications

Author’s Note: I really am sorry for that cliffhanger y’all. 😬 I’m just glad you still love me after being gone for like, a literal year. Shoutout to @agent-laufeyson you’re the best 💜 (PS, please ignore Haley in the below gif, also please picture Hotch in the hospital in casual clothes.) 😌

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

For a moment, Aaron’s whole world stopped turning. A cold, familiar sense of dread settled into his chest at the words, “You all may want to sit down for this.”

“Not again,” he thought. “I can’t do this again, we can’t do this again.”

“God please,” he begged internally, slumping into a chair, “if you’re listening, please don’t take her. We need her.”

Suddenly, the voice of a surgeon cut through the silent room like a knife.

“Sir, your wife lost a significant amount of blood. We had no choice but to perform an emergency c-section. Although your daughter is slightly pre-term, she seems to be in good health. However, we would like to keep her a while for monitoring.”

“And my wife?” He inquires, voice trembling with fear.

“It was touch and go there for a while, but we were able to locate the source of bleeding and get it under control. Your wife is out of surgery. She’s stable, but she is very weak and currently asleep. She will also be hospitalized for recovery. At least a week most likely, maybe longer.”

“Mama’s gonna be okay?” Jack pipes up.

“Yes, she is buddy,” Aaron replies, ruffling his hair. “Thanks to that doctor.”

“Thanks for making my mama feel better.”

“You’re most welcome,” the surgeon replied. “You and your dad can go visit her now. The rest of you will have to wait. She needs her rest. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you doctor,” Aaron says, shaking his hand with a sigh of relief.

“You go Aaron,” Rossi encourages, clapping him on the shoulders before he even had a chance to turn around. “Go see your wife and baby. We’ll wait.”

——————————————————————————

Entering your hospital room, Aaron thought your sleeping face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sitting on the side of your hospital bed, he grabbed hand as you stirred awake.

“Hello Angel,” he murmurs as you take everything in. “You gave us quite a scare,” he mentions, softly caressing your face.

“The baby,” you whisper, touching his hand.

“Ssssshhhh,” he soothes. “The baby is fine. She’s in the nursery. You just rest okay?”

Instant relief washes over your face. “Jack?”

“I’m right here mama!” he exclaims, scrambling into Aaron’s lap.

“I want to see the baby,” you tell Aaron.

“I know darling, but you really need your rest.”

“I NEED to see her, Aaron.” You plead.

Taking the hint, he begins to rise. “Jack why don’t you stay with mama, while I go talk to the nurse, okay?”

“Okay Daddy,” he agrees, climbing in the bed next to you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better mama,” Jack says, looking up at you with the sweetest face.

“Me too, baby,” you reply. “Are you ready to meet your sister?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims with a look of excitement. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course you can buddy, as long as you’re careful,” Aaron replies as he re-enters the room. “The nurses are bringing her down.”

A few minutes later a nurse arrives holding a tiny pink blanket. “Who wants to hold her first?” She inquires.

“You should hold her first, Aaron,” you suggest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists. “You’ve been the strongest, bravest mom I know already. You should hold her first.”

As the nurse places the tiny, squirming bundle with her father’s dark hair in your arms, all the stress and chaos of the day seems to just melt away.

As you free a tiny hand from the swaddle so she can grasp your finger, her eyes flutter open.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you wonder aloud.

“Absolutely lovely,” Aaron muses, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Just like her mother.”

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, cooped up in the waiting area, the BAU team began to grow restless.

“Maybe we should get out of the hospital and go shopping while we wait,” Garcia suggests. “I think Y/N deserves all the gifts and pretty things today.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” JJ questions.

“TARGET RUN!” all three women exclaim in unison.

They all wandered the aisles like kids in a candy store.

“I’m getting her balloons,” Penelope says. “Like so many pink balloons. Nobody can feel bad with that many balloons.”

“Flowers,” Rossi chimes in. “We should get her plenty of flowers to make the room cheerful.”

“We’ll have to get those from hospital gift shop,” JJ comments.

“I’d want chocolate,” Emily suggests. “Chocolate helps everything.”

“Look,” Morgan says, showing a pink stuffed bunny to Garcia. “It’s cute right? For the baby?”

“It’s perfect, Derek,” she assures, grabbing his hand. “Very cute.”

“Oh, a memory book,” Reid mentions. “So they can write down details every day.”

“Leave it to the genius to pick out a book,” Morgan jokes with a playful shove.

“Settle down, boys.” JJ cuts in. “As much as I’m sure she’ll appreciate the pretty gifts, she did just have a baby,” she reminds the group. “She needs some practical things too, trust me.” As she picks out a blanket and a pacifier, Henry begins to grow restless. As she picked up a snack for him, another idea crossed her mind.

“We should get something for Jack, too,” she thought aloud. “LEGOs. He loves LEGOs. And some gummy bears.”

A sudden ringing startles everyone.

“Ssssshhhhhhh,” Garcia commands as she puts the phone on speaker. “It’s Y/N! Quiet!”

“Hello my angel dear,” she lilts, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m very tired, but otherwise happy and healthy,” you report. “Is everyone with you?”

“We’re all here,” JJ chimes in.

“Hi everyone!” You reply. “In that case, I have news. The nurses have said that we’re allowed to have visitors first thing in the morning, if you’d like to see our newest addition.”

“Oh, wild horses could not keep us away, ma’am.” Penelope assures. “We’ll see you all bright and early.”

“Not too early, Penny,” you remind her. “You gotta give me a chance to wake up first.”

“Right, sooooo 10am then?”

“It’s a date.”

——————————————————————————

That evening, you soaked up as much family time as possible before the wave of visitors began. Aaron was a natural, as you’d known he would be from seeing him with Jack.

Watching him with the baby was quickly becoming your favorite pastime. The look of sheer enchantment on his face as he held her close and rocked her made you fall a little more in love with him every moment.

“Daddy loves you so much,” he coos to the tiny bundle in his arms.

“What?” he questions as he catches you watching.

“Oh nothing,” you reply, ruffling Jack’s hair as he slept by your side. “Just wondering how I got so lucky.”

“I think it’s me who got lucky. I thought I’d never love again. I was so closed off. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life as a single dad, doing everything on my own. Now,” he chokes out, “now I’d fall apart without you.”

“Good thing you’ve got two of us now to keep you boys in line then,” you return with a wicked grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already.”

——————————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning, you were greeted by the most beautiful sight. Aaron still asleep in the recliner next your bed, his arm cradling the sleeping baby on his chest. While you hated to disturb the peaceful scene, you knew the team would be arriving as soon as the clock struck 10.

“Aaron,” you whisper. “Aaron, wake up,” slightly louder this time. He stirs awake, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping child.

“What is it babe?”

“The team will be here soon,” you inform him.

“Ah. I should go get ready,” he replies.

“Mama, can I hold her while dad gets ready?” Jack asks, startling the both of you.

“Oh buddy, I didn’t realize you were awake,” you say to him. “Of course you can hold her if you want.”

Jack scrambled into your lap as Aaron rounded the bed.

“Just be really careful with her bud,” Aaron reminds him as he settles the baby on his lap.

“I will dad,” he replies.

As Aaron walked away, the baby’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a small cry.

“Here, why don’t you give her a pacifier?” you suggest.

“Sssshhhh, don’t cry,” he says, giving her the pacifier, and then softly stroking her head.

“What do you think about your baby sister, Jack?”

“She’s pretty, Mama, just like you.”

“Thank you baby,” you reply. “That’s very sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.”

“And I love you all,” Aaron adds.

——————————————————————————

A short while later, a knock at the door alerts you that your visitors have arrived.

“You ready for this?” Aaron asks as he walks to the door.

“I’ve never been more ready. I just know they’re gonna be so in love with her.”

Aaron opens the door and the team flows in with their myriad of gifts.

Penelope hands off her bouquet of balloons to Derek and rushes over to hug you.

“Oh Y/N,” she gushes, cupping your face. “You look beautiful. It’s so good to see you, we were all worried sick.”

“Thank you Penny,” you reply, eyeing the room. “I’m assuming the shopping spree was your idea.”

“Oh shush woman,” she scolds. “You deserve it. We wanted your room to cozy and pretty because we heard you’re going to be here for a while. Sue us.”

“Thank you all for the gifts, you really didn’t have to do any of that,” you reply, tearing up as you address the whole room. “Just being there for us when we needed you the most was all we could ask for and you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“This is the least we could do, really,” JJ assures, softly rubbing your hand.

“Oh fine, be modest if you insist,” you reply with an eye roll. “I’d open all the gifts now, but I imagine you’re all much more interested in our slightly earlier than anticipated arrival.”

Seemingly for the first time since they came in, everyone notices Aaron’s presence and the little pink bundle in his arms.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you continue, “the announcement you’ve all been waiting for. Introducing Miss Savannah Rose.”

“What a lovely name,” Emily chimes in.

“Thank you,” Aaron cuts in. “We would have told you all sooner but we actually just decided on it while we were here,” he says beaming down at his perfectly content infant daughter. “You can all hold her if you like.”

“I’m sure we’d all love to,” JJ replies, “but i think we should leave that you for now. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to spoil her rotten just as soon as she gets home.”

“Right! We just wanted to check on everyone and make sure you have everything you need,” Garcia adds.

“Well thanks to you guys, I think our hospital room is pretty well stocked. I just wish I could say the same for the nursery,” you say with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with the nursery?” Rossi inquires.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Aaron admits. “Between me traveling so much for work and Y/N being pregnant and taking care of Jack, it got pushed to the wayside. I thought we had a bit more time.”

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you it’s not your fault?” you soothe, reaching for his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“I know, I just wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“It already is dear,” you assure him with a smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, you look exhausted.”

“Good idea babe,” he says, settling the baby into your arms.

“I could use a cup myself,” Morgan adds.

——————————————————————————

“Derek, I need your help,” Aaron pleads, once out of earshot of the room.

“Of course man, anything you need.”

“We’re going to be in the hospital for about a week while Y/N recovers and I’m desperate to have a nice nursery for her when we get home, but I obviously can’t leave her alone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there anything you could do to help?”

“Sure thing man, don’t worry about it. That’s the best gift I could hope to give you.”

“You’re the best,” Aaron replies, slapping him on the shoulder. “Just don’t let Y/N find out, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed,” Derek promises.

——————————————————————————

That afternoon Derek had the whole team assembled in the nursery to get started.

“Alright everyone,” he begins, “We’ve got one week to make this the best surprise gift possible. Let’s make it happen.”

“What color should we paint it?” Penelope inquires.

“Got that covered already,” Derek replies while opening a paint can. “Purple. Hotch said it’s Y/N’s favorite color.”

“Oh Derek, it’s perfect!” she squealed, squeezing him tight. “She’s gonna adore it.”

“While the two of us are painting,” Penny addresses the group, “why don’t the rest of you do some some shopping?”

“Great idea, baby girl.” Morgan chimes in. “I think they’ve got the basics from the baby shower and I saw a crib and changing table in the garage, but I’m sure you guys can find things they’re missing.”

“Oh I think we’ve got this,” JJ states confidently. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she commands, herding Emily, Rossi, and Reid out the door.

When the group arrived back at the Hotchner house several hours later, the nursery walls were covered in a soft shade of lavender; as were Morgan and Garcia.

“I don’t know how you two managed to get any paint on the walls,” JJ said with a grin.

“Smile for the camera, you two,” Emily cuts in, snapping a picture on her phone as the couple hug and smile in their paint splattered clothes.

——————————————————————————

The next day conversation flowed as team was busily assembling furniture. Rossi, Reid, and Morgan worked on the crib while Penny, Emily, and JJ tackled the changing table.

“Let me know if you ladies need any help,” Morgan mentions casually.

“Oh right,” Emily grumbles, “because OBVIOUSLY the women need a big, strong man’s help, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek counters. “I was just offering.”

“Oh not only will we get ours done without your help, we’ll get it done faster,” Emily challenges.

“Oh yeah?”

“YEAH!” all three women reply in unison.

“You’re on,” Morgan accepts.

“Oh you’re so going down,” Penny taunts, throwing pieces of plastic wrapping at Derek.

“Losers buy sushi for lunch?” Rossi suggests.

“Oh that could be pretty expensive for you Dave,” JJ comments. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Rossi says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, as JJ and Emily were finishing up the crib, the men came dragging in, arms full of takeout bags.

“Say cheese!” Penelope squeals as she takes their picture. “For the bragging rights.”

——————————————————————————

The next days were spent putting the finishing touches on the room.

A purple gradient butterfly mobile above the crib from JJ.

A bookshelf with a fully stocked library, specially selected by Reid. Emily places her floral covered photo album on top.

Lavender curtains with a shimmery overlay, Penelope’s contribution.

Derek’s stuffed bunny, carefully laid in a white gliding chair with purple cushions, which was generously paid for by Dave.

Derek lays a soft shag rug over the hardwood floor and drapes a plush floral blanket over the edge of the crib.

“I think that about does it, guys,” he says with a look of pride.

“You know, I bought them that photo album,” Emily comments, “it would be a shame if we didn’t put a few in there as a gift.”

“Yeah, but how do we get a picture of the whole group?” JJ wonders out loud.

“We could set a timer,” Penelope suggests.

“Yeah, but who sets the timer?” Reid asks, as he turns to see the whole group looking at him.

“Seriously guys?”

Between the camera falling over, closed eyes, and Spence not making it back before the timer, it took a few tries before there was a good group shot.

“And now a funny one,” Penny insists.

Once the photos, including the bloopers, have been printed and arranged in the album, JJ makes sure to write descriptions for each in the margins before setting it back on the shelf.

“Good job team,” Derek announces. “Our work here is done.”

————————————���—————————————

After all the chaos surrounding the birth and a full week in the hospital, nothing felt better than standing at the door of your house with the love of your life and your two beautiful children.

“You ready to finally get some rest, baby?” Aaron asks as he ushers you inside the house, one solid arm arm around the small of your back and Savannah in her carrier on the other.

“Yeah,” you sigh, dropping your purse on the coffee table and slipping off your shoes. “I just wish we didn’t still have to worry about the nursery,” you groan, plopping down onto the sofa.

“About that,” Aaron says with a mischievous grin, offering you his free hand.

“What are you up to, Aaron Hotchner?” You muse as he leads you down the hallway.

“Just trust me,” he assures, coming to a halt in front of the nursery door. “Close your eyes,” he requests.

“What is going on here?” you inquire again.

“Just close your eyes please, darling,” he asks. “For me.”

“Alright, alright,” you comply, “this better be good.”

“Don’t open them until I say so, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

With eyes closed and Jack close by your side, you hear the door open and the rustling of paper inside the room.

“Alright,” he whispers, sliding his arm around your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist: @ange-must-die @agent-laufeyson @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @pedropascalian @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @kleff03

[milenadaniels]

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter three: "So happy together"

Words count: 16 K

My gif ✨

Warnings: All the Criminal Minds case dark shit we love. Cursing, as always. Spoilers of Criminal Minds season 2. Mention of cases: The Fisher King (Season 1, E22 - Season 2, E01). Alcohol consumption. Mention of drug use. Spencer acting his age, finally!

Summary: Reader is slowly showing a little bit of herself to the team. Spencer meets (Y/N)'s friends and starts acting his age, which is something maybe Gideon wouldn't like as much as you might imagine.

A/N: Hi!! Thank you for reading! I love this chapter 'cos baby Spencer gives me joy 💜 Also, what do you think of Paul?

Series Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

(Y/N)'s point of view

When did I become closer to the rest of my colleagues? When Elle got shot, and we were stuck with a case we couldn't solve.

It was the first time an unsub had all of our information. He knew our addresses, hobbies, and phone numbers. We were all scared something terrible would happen to anyone else on the team like it had occurred with Elle.

It was June 2006. The guys had finally taken their vacations when it all started. It was just Garcia, JJ, and me in the bullpen. I had been only seven months on the team, not long enough to have some time off, but I didn't really bother. It was fun being there with the girls, catching up with the paperwork, talking, and eating cookies. We didn't have much time to have fun at work, and we enjoyed it.

That until a psycho killer targeted the team as their victims.

After nearly one day off, everybody was back in Quantico, and the quest to catch that asshole began. The whole team was involved somehow: Gideon had gotten a human head delivered to his secret cabin as a warning. Aaron got a call to his house with a riddle, and then a packet was delivered to his wife. JJ got a weird butterfly with a clue. Reid received a key in Las Vegas when he was visiting his mom, 'cos the unsub knew where he would be that day. I got my favorite book with another riddle on it. And Elle was nearly framed for murder in Jamaica, where she was spending a few days off with Derek. The weirdest part of it was that the head Gideon got came from the dead body found in Elle's room.

It was sick.

I think Penelope had it worst. The unsub hacked her. That's how he got all of our personal information. When she explained what had happened, Gideon insulted her in front of everybody. For the first time since I got to the BAU, he really lost it with one of us, and she was his target. It was brutal. He blamed her for failing to keep his privacy, for putting the team at risk. He made her cry in front of everybody in the briefing room, and I had to close my eyes and bite my tongue so I wouldn't snap in front of him and ask him to be, at least for once, a little bit more human.

Garcia was apologizing, and he was sweeping the floor with her. I felt Morgan's eyes on me and looked at him. He was infuriated but still managed not to hit Gideon. However, I could read him easily: he was about to jump on him and break his jaw any minute. We both looked at each other for a few seconds until Gideon shut up, and we were able to refocus on the unsub.

I made the most significant effort to deliver my best in that case. We had a crazy unsub trying to kill us, a missing kid, Elle in surgery, and the rest of the team freaked out. Reid and I worked decoding the riddles and found a book that gave us more clues. At least I felt useful. The stress we were under was so big; I was sure Gideon would yell at all of us if we made any mistake. And the way he looked at Penelope each time they were in front of each other made it worse.

But what was a game-changer was meeting Mrs. Reid. She was crucial for finding the unsub, and though Spencer hated the idea of everybody meeting her, he had no choice. All the leads had taken us to her. The unsub knew Diana Reid, and she was the one that had given him a lot of personal information from all of us. It was clear she might be in danger.

- "Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, at the behavioral analysis unit at Quantico. I need my mother picked up and brought to Virginia in protective custody as soon as possible."

I turned to him with a dazed look as soon as I heard him talking on the phone. He looked worried, even paler than usual. Spencer never spoke about his mom at work. He didn't want anyone to know about her mom. But if she was in danger, he was going to do everything it took to protect her.

I knew Mrs. Reid had schizophrenia because Spencer had told me all about her one Saturday afternoon we spent together. We were out to get coffee and stopped by a bookstore. He dragged me in and got what seemed to be a million books. That was just his weekly reading.

That's when he told me about his mother. She was an XV century literature teacher, so he obviously inherited her love for books.

- "I tell her everything... I write her a letter."

- "Everyday"- I finished his words as we walked around the aisle of the store- "I know, you told me, and I thought it was the most lovely thing on earth."

He chuckled and blushed. I loved to make Spencer blush

- "Does she know we are friends?"

- "Yes, she knows, and she thinks you are an excellent friend for always listening to me."

- "Does she write back every day too?"- he shook his head and turned to a shelf. He grabbed any random book and hid his face in it, pretending he wasn't nervous or comfortable.

Reid is very discreet about his personal life and problems. I don't think he feels comfortable sharing them with people, though he loves helping everybody fix their messes. I can relate to that if I have to be honest. It's one of the many things we've shared in the latest years.

- "Do you visit often?"- he shook his head again and kept avoiding my eyes. I grabbed a book and started reading one random chapter. I knew I didn't have to push him, 'cos there was something he didn't want to talk about.

- "I think I write because I feel guilty I don't visit."- he whispered after a few minutes.

- "Don't worry, honey... we all have problems with our mothers"- and I meant it- "My mom hates my job, and we don't really talk much."

- "Really?"- somehow, he was shocked- "I thought she was proud of your accomplishments."

- "She hates this job. She divorced my dad because of the long crazy hours. She keeps saying I am never going to get a real relationship or a normal life if I am in the FBI."

- "We don't have an everyday life; she is a little right about it."- Reid smiled at me- "My mom hates my job too."

- "Why?"

- "She hates... the FBI and the government."

- "No shit!"- I heard him chuckle from his book, and finally, he looked at me.

- "Yes... so I guess she ain't thrilled I'm in the bureau."

- "I am sure she is proud of you. You are her only child, right?"- he nodded, and I grabbed another book. He did the same. He gave each word we shared a lot of thinking. That wasn't weird at all, but that day I felt he was struggling with something.

- "Mom taught me to love books. She used to read to me every day since I was born. I loved to hear her bringing each story to life. Margery Kempe, Thomas Malory, or Henry Bradshaw."- he made a pause and smiled sweetly- "I have unforgettable memories with her growing up..."

And there it was, the sad look in his eyes that kept telling me there was something else there he wasn't sharing.

- "What is it, honey?"- I whispered and rubbed his arm softly. He gulped and looked around. When he noticed no one was near us in the aisle, he took a step closer to me and whispered.

- "She has schizophrenia... she is a patient at the Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas."

His voice was such a whisper, I barely heard him. But I did, and my heart shrank. He stayed still, just moving his eyes from the book to mine. I felt the urge to hug him. So I did.

- "Sorry,"- I whispered as soon as I realized he wasn't moving 'cos he hated being touched, and I had just forgotten it.

- "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."- but he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I guess he needed a hug after that revelation.

We had a coffee, and he told me everything about her. How she had left his medication when she found out she was pregnant. How the illness advanced quicker every year as he grew up, until his father left them when he was nine 'cos, he couldn't (or wouldn't) deal with Diana anymore. And Reid was the one in charge of everything.

I couldn't imagine ten years old Spencer dealing with a schizophrenic mother, bullies in school, and all the responsibilities of being a genius. I would have collapsed with half of that burden. He had told me how bad things had been for him in school. But when you add his mother's illness, the equation is hard to solve. I don't know how my friend had managed to become such a functional grown-up.

- "Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?"

We were sipping our third cup of coffee when Spencer delivered those words. I raised my eyes and looked at him, not knowing what to say.

- "Symptoms usually start between ages 16 and 30- he added with the saddest eyes I have ever seen."

- "And you haven't shown any, so far you are going great"- I know I didn't choose my words wisely, but I honestly was struggling to find the best way to answer.

- "Yes, well, men tend to experience symptoms earlier than women."

- "You are going to be ok, honey."

I looked at his hand and nearly held it but stopped myself, knowing it would freak him out. I had already hugged him. I didn't want to overwhelm him.

- "Thank you"- he whispered and sighed- "And thank you for..."

- "We should stop thanking each other for being friends"- I grinned and watched his eyes shine- "Just promise me one day you will introduce me to your mom. She has to be the best person to talk about literature on earth"- and finally, he smiled.

- "I promise I will."

When Mrs. Reid walked into the bullpen area, Spencer and I were making coffee. It was pretty late, and we were all tired. We still had no idea where Rebecca was, our missing kid. We didn't know who the unsub was yet. Elle was still in surgery, and Gideon was with her at the hospital. JJ and Morgan were in Virginia looking for information about the unsub. Hotch was on his way back to Quantico. And yet still, none of us ever complained about being exhausted. We had to keep going.

- "That's why you are so skinny, too much coffee."

Reid heard Diana's voice and nearly jumped. He turned around, dismissed the officials, and smiled at his mother. I stayed still, waiting for my coffee and making my best not to make a big deal out of the fact I was about to meet my best friend's mother.

At that point, I think I had already faced the fact Spencer was my best friend. He was the person I was with almost 24/7, and it didn't really bother me. If we had met outside the BAU, I'm sure we would have been friends as well.

- "You know I hate flying"- Diana was severe. She looked awkward and uncomfortable around the officials. I remembered Reid said she hated his job, and I remembered hallucinations are prevalent in schizophrenia. If she thought she was arrested, maybe Diana had a delusion of persecution. After all, Reid had said she hated the government.

- "I know, I'm sorry."

- "Then why did you get those fascists to arrest me?"- Spencer chuckled, and I bit my lips as I turned around and finished making my coffee.

- "Mom, they are not fascist, and you are not arrested. I'm trying to protect you."

- "By forcing me to do the thing that frightens me more than anything else?"- he stayed quiet and took a deep breath. I guess he wasn't ready to deal with having his mom there. I noticed Diana's eyes on me and cut her a short smile, waving, making my best effort to look friendly. She waved back, looking scared.

- "Come here. There's someone I want you to meet."

Spencer point of view

The day the whole team found out about my mom's disease was one of the hardest I had ever lived in the BAU. We were working in probably the most complicated case we had had so far, and we were under an unbearable amount of pressure. Knowing mom could be a target made it all even worse, if possible.

I couldn't concentrate the whole time I knew agents were taking mom from Las Vegas to Quantico. I kept walking around the conference room, staring at the board, trying to be useful for the team, but all I got was... nothing.

- "Come on, honey, let's get a coffee."- (Y/N) whispered and led the way to the kitchenette, knowing I was struggling. She was making her best to find a way to help me under those circumstances. There we were when mom arrived. I nearly jumped when I saw her, guilt, relief, fear, and happiness mixed inside of me at the very same time.

I walked to her and tried to calm her down. We didn't hug, and she didn't kiss me. She just held her purse tight, like it was the only thing that could keep her safe and sane at the minute, and stared at me, not getting what was going on. Mom looked around, trying to absorb the surroundings and trying to find a threat. And that's when she waved. I turned around and saw (Y/N) waving at her with a shy and warm smile.

- "Come here. There's someone I want you to meet."

I walked to my friend and took a deep breath. Yes, I was scared, 'cos those were two sides of my world that never, ever before, had collided. And I didn't know what was going to happen, mostly because my mother's behavior was always unstable.

- "Mom, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is my best friend. We work together."

They shook hands. That was already a good sign for me.

- "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Reid."

- "Spencer has told me a lot about you"- oh shit!- "Try to make him eat real food from time to time- I closed my eyes and stood in the middle of the two."

- "We'll have time to talk later. Right now, mom, I need you to see something."

Having my mother in the BAU is by far the weirdest thing that had happened to me until that day. The fact she knew the unsub made me feel worse. She could have been a target just because I had told her too much about my job.

I had never felt more guilty about anything in my entire life. And all because I had written her letters to attenuate the blame for not spending time with her.

I showed her a tape with the unsub's voice, and she nearly fainted. She knew the guy, and she realized she had told him everything he knew.

- "He spoke of a Rebecca."

Mom was in shock as she kept telling us all about Randall Garner, the man she recognized as our unsub, who had kidnapped his own daughter, Rebecca.

- "More in the abstract, I really thought she was a metaphor, not an actual human being."

- "A grail"- I was thinking out loud. Mom looked at me and nodded- "He believes he is the fisher king."

Morgan and JJ walked into the room that second. (Y/N) and Garcia were already there with me. And they had been the nicest with my mom. Penelope had given her all the cookies she had, and (Y/N) had been at her most soothing behavior.

Mom trusted her from the first moment, and somehow, she found comfort and safety with her. Was it because she was a girl? or because I had told her all about her? I had written about the rest of the team in my letters, but she didn't have the same reaction around Penelope.

- "Who thinks he is the fisher king?"- Morgan asked and looked at us, confused.

- "Randall Garner, our unsub."- I explained and avoided looking at them. I turned to (Y/N), and she cut me a short reassuring smile. She knew I was still too tense to think straight.

- "He believes you are all modern-day knights of the round table,"- mother pointed out, as Derek and JJ frowned, baffled. Right... they didn't know who she was.

- "Uh... Derek Morgan, Jenifer Jareau, this is my mother, Diana Reid."

I walked over and stood next to her. I could feel her body tensing as the rest of the team walked in.

- "Your mother?"- Morgan asked, surprised, as I nodded- "Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."

- "So, where are we on finding this son of a bitch?"- Hotch walked into the room so upset. I don't think it helped my mom to feel safer. (Y/N) turned to her and moved a chair closer, inviting her to sit with her. I thought mom was going to refuse, 'cos she was being wide alert and over vigilant, in case of any danger. But surprisingly, she accepted, sat next to my best friend, and I stood behind them to keep her close.

It was dark when I walked into the unsubs house with Morgan and Hotch, along with a SWAT team. But my head wasn't entirely there. It was back at the bullpen, with mom and (Y/N), who stayed back taking care of her. Mom was writing her journal when I left, and (Y/N) was sitting near, checking some databases with Penelope. It was a strange scene to behold. But somehow, heartwarming.

Garner was on the second floor, hidden in his studio. Morgan wanted to get in, but considering the unsub knew my mother, I thought maybe I could intercede to find Rebecca before anyone was hurt.

- "Mr. Garner, my name is Spencer Reid. You were at the hospital with my mother... I think she might have confused you. All we want to do is help Rebecca; that's precisely what you want, that's why you sent us the puzzles."

Morgan and Hotch looked at me like I was crazy. It hurt to know after all the time I had been on the team, they still didn't trust me.

- "Ask the question,"- Garner said from his studio, and everybody turned to me with a confused gaze.

- "There is no magical question, Mr. Garner."- I answered and whispered to everybody- "He believes if I ask him the right question, it'll heal all of his wounds."

- "Do you know the question?"- Hotch was honestly hoping I could say yes, but no.

- "I know what he wants. I'm gonna move to where he can see me."

- "Reid! No!"- my teammates commanded, but I ignored them, left my gun, and slowly walked down the hall.

- "Fall back!"

Garner kept commanding me to ask the question, and I kept telling him I was an FBI agent, the son of Diana Reid. Of course, the man was so insane he didn't understand it, he didn't believe me.

- "If you want the grail, you have to ask the question."

- "She is not a grail! She is your daughter. Her name is Rebecca."

- "My daughters died in a fire, and my son, and my wife."

- "Rebecca lived."

- "No, your mother, she explained it all to me."

- "My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic who'd forget to eat if she wasn't properly medicated and supervised!"

I shouted the truth and felt some sort of relief on my chest. I don't know if I did it so Garner could hear me or if I was just sick and tired of hiding it. I know neither Derek nor Hotch knew, but it was about time. I know it's hard for me to share many things about my life with people, but I spent my whole day, weeks, months, and years with them. I think it was the right thing to do.

When I finally reached Garner, I saw him sitting by his desk, holding the trigger of a bomb that was wrapped all around his body. I asked Derek and Hotch to wait downstairs with the rest of the SWAT team, but they refused to move from their spot. I didn't want to upset Garner by announcing the bomb, though things didn't end up so well with him.

- "Ask the question."

- "There's only one question that matters, Mr. Gardener, can you forgive yourself?"- I swear, I thought it was going to work.

- "I couldn't save them"- he whispered with pain and remorse.

- "If you tell me where she is, you can save Rebecca now, tell me here Rebecca is."

- "You already know, I sent your mother the map."

- "What map?"

That's when I realized things weren't going to end well and started to take a few steps back.

- "Can I forgive myself?"- Mr. Gardener whispered and looked right into my eyes- "No, I can't."

And as soon as I heard those words, I started running. A few seconds later, he triggered the bomb, and the explosion pushed me to the ground. Derek extinguished the fire that had reached my pants, and he and Hotch dragged me to the first floor.

- "What the hell was that?"- and he was mad.

- "He had a bomb"- not my brightest answer, I must say.

- "You didn't think we needed to know that?"- Morgan shouted in my ear.

- "I told you to go downstairs,"- I argued, knowing there was no way I was going to win that fight.

- "Well, you never said bomb!!"

The whole house was on fire, smoke choking us, but still, we managed to find Rebecca hidden in the basement and took her out on time. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. In this job, saving an innocent victim is what matters.

When we reached the BAU again, and JJ assured us Elle would be ok, I sighed, relieved. But soon, I noticed neither mom nor (Y/N) was anywhere to be seen.

- "Thank you all,"- Hotch said as he walked away.

- "Well, we could have only gone so far without Mrs. Reid,"- Garcia whispered and smiled at me.

Yes, that felt good. Somehow, the fact my teammates knew a little more about me and that they were supportive about it made me feel like I belonged there.

When I walked into the conference room, mom wrote her journal, and (Y/N) was reading next to her. There was a comfortable silence between them, and they both smiled when they saw me, making my heart beat faster. I tried to explain to mom we had solved the case and that she had helped save a young girl's life, but she didn't get it. Instead, she asked if it was lunchtime. She wasn't there; she thought she had to teach a class. (Y/N) looked at me and tried to comfort me with a short smile.

After the day we had, I couldn't feel anything but happy to see my mom was safe, even when her head wasn't in the right place. So I played along with her, asked her to attend her class, and earned one of her biggest smiles. She hadn't smiled like that to me in ages. I guess because I haven't been with her in a long, long time.

Mom was freaking out about flying again, but I had to take her back to the hospital, and the fastest way to go was flying. Strauss had been nice enough to let us borrow the jet, considering mom had been essential assistance in the case.

- "I don't want to do this, Spencer."- she groaned as we stood outside the plane- "You want to kill me, don't you?"

- "Mom, come on, it's just five hours, and we'll be together. Nothing is going to happen."

- "I can't believe this, I refuse to do it!"- and man, she was mad.

- "Mrs. Reid!"- (Y/N) ran to us and waved- "Mrs. Reid! You forgot this!"- she held one of her journals, and mom quickly grabbed it from her hands.

- "Where did you find it?"

- "You left it in the conference room. I'm glad I got to you on time! I thought you had already left."

- "No, mom doesn't want to..."- I made a pause, trying not to make her even madder at me- "She doesn't feel comfortable flying."

- "That apparatus is a coffin with wings."- mom argued, and (Y/N) chuckled.

- "Did you know driving is more dangerous than flying?"- my best friend tried to soothe my mom's nerves- "There are more than 5 million car accidents compared to 20 aviation accidents."

I looked at (Y/N) in awe. There she was talking statistics. She just smiled at me, excited to be of any kind of help.

- "Yes"- I added- "Per 100 million miles pits driving's 1.27 fatalities and 80 injuries against flying's lack of deaths and almost no injuries. Which again shows air travel to be safer."

Mom stared at us in silence and shook her head frenetically. I tried to hold her hand, but she grabbed her bag and journal tightly and refused to even look at me.

- "You come with us"- it wasn't a request, mother commanded (Y/N) to join our trip.

- "No, mom"- I felt embarrassed by her behavior, even if (Y/N) coming along wasn't a bad idea. It could help to have her around. Mom seemed to like her.

(Y/N) looked at me with an interrogative look in her eyes. I smiled at her and shook my head.

- "It's ok, I can go alone."

- "I wouldn't mind... really"- she whispered and kept her eyes in mine. I know my heart skipped a beat that second, and I held my breath. Honestly, I don't think anyone had cared about me that much before.

- "Really?"- I whispered and stayed still. I couldn't move. She just nodded and looked around.

- "I just have to grab my go back from my car. Are you coming back right away, or are you staying over?"

- "We would go back right away. But it would be ten hours on a plane. Are you sure you want to do this?"

- "If you don't mind sharing books, sure."

And that's when I realized I had never had anyone like her in my life and that I would do whatever I could to keep her in it. I couldn't lose her. Ever. That was scary because most of the people I had cared about so far had left me, one way or another.

Her phone rang, and her whole face changed.

- "It's Hotch"- she announced- "Hello... yes... no, I'm still here, I'm with Reid and his mom... really? now?"

I frowned and looked down, overhearing her conversation with our boss. It was clear something had happened, and she had to go.

- "What is it?"- I asked her, biting my lips.

- "Hotch wants me to drive Elle home and put an eye on her tonight"- I nodded and sighed.

- "That's ok. She needs you."

- "I'm sorry, Mrs. Reid, I can't go with you today,"- she apologized to my mom, showing an honest concern about her, which melted me and made my stomach flutter.

- "But I can drag Spencer to visit you as soon as we've got some free time, and you can continue the lecture we had to pause earlier today."

- "That sounds lovely, dear."- she answered, and I wide opened my eyes at her words. Was mom adorable with someone? Yes, she was.

- "Thank you so much for coming to help us with the case"- they held hands and smiled at each other- "Have a nice trip."

- "I can assure you, it won't be nice, not if I have to get into that thing."

- "Just a few hours, mom, then you'll be back in the... hospital."

I felt so guilty just to say those words, but a part of me knew that was the best for the two of us. I waved at (Y/N), and she smiled at me.

- "Please call me when you land, honey"- I could only nod at her and started walking.

- "I like her,"- mom whispered and winked at me- "Don't let her go."

(Y/N)'s point of view

My friends hated my job. All of them. Lu was the only one who supported me completely. Not even Paul liked the idea of me being at the BAU. He didn't even ask about my day at work, and slowly, our relationship started to fade. We didn't look like a couple anymore. We didn't even have sex anymore. But neither of us took the first step to end it all. So, we just continued to roll the same way for a few more months. It really wasn't that bad. We didn't even see each other so often either. My job never let me.

- "Are you kidding me?!"- Mikey was mad. He was yelling at the other side of the phone- "I've seen you twice in the last eight months! Ever since you are a Fed, you don't have time for us! It's fucking July already! And we didn't even have our annual barbecue this year!"

I was in Denver with the rest of the team, trying to find, yet again, a serial killer. And my best friend couldn't believe I wasn't going to be there for his show.

- "I'm so sorry, I'm still at work, and until we don't get the guy who is killing all these women, I won't go home."

- "I never see you anymore!"

- "I know."

Spencer turned to me and frowned. We were at the police station, it was almost midnight, and I refused to leave until we had at least little more progress on the unsub's profile, but so far, we had nothing.

- "I hate your job."

- "Please don't do this,"- I whispered and walked outside the room- "I really need your support, Mikey."

- "But I miss you. The guys miss you. Frank thinks you are mad at us."

- "Emo as fuck, as always"- I tried to joke, but I know Mikey didn't find it funny, he was upset, and when he got angry, it was hard to change his mind.

- "It's the third show you miss since you got this job."

- "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

- "How?"

I had no idea how to do it, but I knew my friend had to understand I wasn't there, not because I didn't want to, but because now I had a job that requires my full time and mind. I wasn't playing in a band and riding my longboard anymore. Now I was saving lives.

- "As soon as I get back home, I'll make you Frank and Lu a delicious dinner in my place. We can stay watching movies all night long if you want, and I'll have so much beer in the freeze, you are going to need another stomach to fill."

Finally, Mikey chuckled.

- "You better deliver, 'cos you have a lot of weeks of hanging out to make up for."

- "I swear, Michael James, you are gonna love me again."

Spencer furrowed his brows and kept his eyes on me when I walked back into the meeting room.

- "Everything ok?"

- "Yes"- I nodded and smiled- "Just an upset friend annoying me 'cos I can't be home"- Hotch raised his eyes to me but didn't say a word.

- "Paul?"- Reid's voice was like a whisper. It made me think maybe he was scared to bring him up.

- "No, he is already tired of asking, so... more coffee?"- everybody nodded, and I turned around and walked to the kitchen.

- "Do you need a hand, pretty girl?"- Morgan asked and tapped carefully on my back.

- "Sure do, start making coffee while I get more clean cups"- I opened a shelf and grabbed the sugar- "I hope there's enough here to keep Spencer awake."- Derek chuckled and looked at it.

- "I surely doubt it."

- "I'll steal a donut from the fridge then"- I opened it and looked for any sweet that might make him happy.

- "How's everything with your boyfriend?"- I heard Morgan ask, and I just shrugged in response, not giving the question much importance- "Guessing it's not ok."

- "I don't know what it is anymore. I get now why everybody in this team is alone... I wonder how Hotch manages his personal life with this job"- Morgan chuckled and turned to me. I grinned and started pouring coffee on the cups.

- "You've handled it very well, pretty girl."

- "Thank you."

- "I've seen you grow a lot these last months"- I bit my lips and tried not to make my smile too evident. I was happy to hear those words. Morgan has always been someone I admire and look up to, even when he can sometimes be an asshole. He is my friend, one of my closest friends, and one of the best SSA I've ever known.

- "I've tried to do my best."

- "Keep doing it then, and maybe when we are back home, we can go and get some drinks with the team to celebrate your good work."- he smiled, and I reciprocated, excited with the idea.

- "Derek Morgan, I won't forget it. We have a team date now. I'll tell the guys."

- "If you manage to drag Reid along with you, I'll pay for all of your drinks."

- "Why wouldn't he come along?"

- "'Cos he is not the bar kind of guy."

I frowned, thinking maybe Morgan wasn't someone Reid would like to go to a club with. I mean, Derek was always going to leave with a girl, and Spencer was always going to be shy.

Was he? Yes, of course, he was. I couldn't picture my friend picking up girls in a bar with cheesy lines like Morgan always did. He wasn't that kind of guy, and I loved that.

- "Coffee for all my dears, plus a stolen donut for my honey bunny,"- I announced as I reached the table, and Spencer's cheeks burned right away. Everybody looked at us with widened eyes, shocked by the nickname. And all I did was to chuckle.

- "Did I hear that right?"- Garcia asked. She was on speaker talking with the team.

- "Yes, you did. You are not the only one using loving, weird nicknames in this team anymore."- I sipped my coffee and looked at everybody- "So, where are we on the geographic profile?"

- "Right!"- Spencer nearly jumped at my questions and started talking- "The unsub's hunting area is entirely untraceable. So far, he has picked his victims in three different city points that aren't connected."

I could feel Gideon's eyes burning my scalp as Reid kept talking. I turned to him and tilted my head. He fixed his eyes on mine and didn't say a word until I sighed and turned around, back to Spencer. I was sure Gideon didn't like me much. Why? I had no idea. He was too hard to read, or I was such a bad profiling him.

- "You are really sweet with Spence."- JJ said from her bed. We were sharing rooms that night. It wasn't always like that, but our budget was sometimes a little tight, or most of the rooms were booked. That was the case that trip.

- "Yeah, he is a good friend."- I answered and didn't look from my book.

- "The kid is adorable,"- she added, and that forced me to look at her. I could feel there was something else she wanted to say. So she continued.

- "I mean, he is like my kid brother, and he is a very complex human being..."

- "Aren't we all?"- I tried to continue reading, but I knew she was going to keep on talking.

- "Yes, but Spence, he doesn't open up with most people, and it seems it was easy for the two of you to get close."

I closed my book and looked at her. She was going through some files, trying not to make eye contact. I waited a few seconds in silence in case she wanted to add something else. But she didn't.

- "JJ, are you jealous?"

- "What? No!"- she sounded honestly surprised, but at the same time, her voice told she was full of it.

- "Then? what is it? 'cos that tone of voice is telling me something is bothering you."

- "No, no!"- she shook her head- "Don't say that! I'm not jealous. I just... think it's great that you are so close. Spence is never so intimate with people."

- "Were you his best friend before I got here? Is that why you are jealous? 'cos I am not trying to get in the middle of anything"- I remembered Morgan had told me something about it a few weeks into the job, how Reid and JJ were real close until I got there, and we became inseparable.

- "(Y/N), I am not jealous. I'm just surprised he has opened up to you so fast. I mean, you even got along with his mom."

I swear to god 'till this day, I am sure Jennifer Jareau was jealous.

I left my book aside and sat straight on the bed. JJ looked at me and smiled, probably trying to ease the mood. I wasn't mad or anything, but she was uncomfortable. Bad news: she didn't manage it so well for a liaison, I must say.

- "Well, Reid and I have a lot in common. You know we are both nerds."

I wasn't lying, and she chuckled at my words 'cos she had seen us being a couple of geeks together, talking hours about science-fic movies and series.

- "That's why I'm happy you came along, I mean, he was kind of lonely, and you are really like him... "

JJ made a pause, and after a few seconds of getting her ideas together, she said.

- "I still can't believe he can do this job. I mean, he is too nice, too innocent..."

- "Are you serious?"- I hated every word she had spoken.

- "I mean, I'm not even in the field with you, but I can't understand how Spencer does it. He is so sensitive and at the same time so shy."

That comment made my blood boil in a second, 'cos it was precisely what Reid feared the most: that people thought he wasn't good enough, tough enough, that everybody thought he was a kid. I hated when the team treated Spencer like a child. I hated it because I knew it hurt him, and he was never going to face it.

- "Reid kicks ass"- I interrupted her, and my voice may have been a little harsh. - "Sure, he is young. Still, he is my age, and he has proven to be a fantastic agent. He is not just the brain. He can manage to catch a killer, get confessions, kill an unsub!"

- "I know, (Y/N), calm down"- JJ opened her eyes, surprised by my reaction. I hadn't been severe or mean, but I guess my words came out a little more passionate than I meant to.

- "I'm just trying to say he is not your typical FBI agent."

I guess he was not, but the team always made it sound like they thought Spencer was weak. And he was so much stronger than they thought. You can't be soft growing up with a schizophrenic mother, an absent dad, dealing with bullies every day, or being the only 14 years old in college. People never thought about that, they just believed what they saw, and they saw a young, skinny man with still some innocence left in his eyes. That wasn't bad, but it wasn't all.

- "I just think people treat him like a kid, and he is not."- I tried to explain in a calm tone of voice. And I could have continued talking if it hadn't been for my phone. It was Paul.

- "Excuse me"- I put on a hoodie and picked up, walking out of the room, leaving JJ a little nervous and confused with our conversation.

- "Hey,"- I whispered as I walked down the hall- "How are you?"

- "I'm ok, you? How's the case?"

- "Hard... we barely have any lead and three bodies already... it's sad to think that guy has to get another victim to catch him..."

- "You are gonna get him, babe, I'm sure"- I know I smiled, surprised. It's not that Paul hated my job; he just wasn't usually so supportive of it.

- "And when you come back home, we could go out on a date"- that was even more surprising.

- "Really? What do you have in mind?"

- "I don't know, maybe skateboard to the park, look for that burger truck you loved... whatever you want to do, babe."

I know he was trying, but somehow I felt I didn't want to try so much. However, I was moved by the gesture, so I giggled (an honest expression of happiness) and agreed.

- "It's a plan."

When I walked back into the room, I made my best to be friendly, and cut JJ a short smile - similar to Spencer's frog face - and got back into my bed. I didn't want to argue with her or anything like it. And I knew I had gotten way too agitated with our conversation earlier. So it was better to take a deep breath and play it cool.

- "Boyfriend?"- she asked with a short smile

- "Yeah, he wanted to plan a date when we are back home"- I played my "nice (Y/N)" card and even tried to speak in a softer tone of voice.

- "So, how long have you been dating?"

- "Eight months, no wait, nine months, we started going out a few weeks I joined the BAU"- I sighed and looked at her- "It's no easy though, this job is so demanding."

- "But it's not impossible. You can date and be a good profiler if you want to; look at Hotch."

- "That guy never sleeps"- I smiled and added- "And he doesn't blink either now that I think about it, I mean, I can get that he has to be the serious one 'cos he is the unit chief, but damn! a few facial movements wouldn't hurt!"

JJ laughed at my comment, and somehow I felt a little more comfortable. A little bit of the real me slipped out in those words. And though we had a tense argument, I felt slightly closer to JJ that night.

Spencer's point of view

- "Ok, pretty boy, what's the deal?"

Morgan stepped out of the bathroom after what seemed to be the longest shower in the history of humanity. That guy takes his time in there, shaving his head, his face, and whatever it is that he does.

I saw the question coming but still didn't feel prepared to answer it. It's not that I didn't know what to say. I just knew Morgan wasn't going to let it go so quickly.

- "What do you mean?"- I kept staring at the pages of my book but could see clearly, with the corner of my eye, how Derek shook his head and sat on his bed.

- "(Y/N) called you honey bunny.  What was that all about?"

- "We have a few private jokes. That's all."

- "Private jokes"- the tone of his voice let me know I had chosen the wrong words- "Since when do you have private jokes?"- I thought about it for a few seconds.

- "For the last 210 days"- I looked at my wristwatch and counted- "Actually, 210 days, 23 hours, and forty-six minutes."- my friend groaned and laid back on his bed.

- "So she has been calling you Honey Bunny for almost 211 days, and we had never heard of it?"

- "No, she has been calling me that for 93 days actually... you asked when we started having private jokes."- Morgan chuckled.

- "So you two are getting closer."

- "We are friends, Derek"- I closed the book and looked at him, annoyed- "And I don't want you to start implying things that aren't right."

- "I'm not saying anything. I'm just asking you what's going on."

- "I told you, we are friends."

- "And I'm happy for you"- Morgan was sincere. I knew he was. But that didn't mean he was done teasing- "So, you and JJ? are you going to ask her out again?"

- "No, JJ is my friend."

- "You do have a lot of friends now. Maybe you should try to get a girlfriend"- I rolled my eyes and grabbed my book again, refusing to look his way- "Fine, don't have girlfriends, suit yourself!"

- "Just because you are unable to have a close female friend doesn't mean the rest of us can't."

- "What do you mean I can't?! I have excellent female friends!"

- "Name one."

- "Garcia!"- I chuckled and shook my head, staring at the same page of War and Peace I had been trying to read for a few minutes.

- "Sure, Morgan, there is nothing wrong with your friendship."

- "Hey! just because we give each other nicknames and tease doesn't mean something is going on between us"- I looked at him and sighed.

- "My words exactly. So we are clear (Y/N), and I are just friends, and I have no feelings for JJ but friendship whatsoever"- Derek gave me an annoyed face and nodded.

- "Fine, pretty boy, you win."

I gave him a pleased smile and continued reading. At least for once, I was free from his teasing.

I felt I was full of it, anyway. You don't have a friend calling you "honey bunny" and not overthink the whole situation a little. Or a lot, in my case. I couldn't help it. She was the sweetest, the nicest, the cutest girl I had ever been friends with. And it was starting to be confusing. She treated me like a friend, but sometimes I sensed the vibe of something else, something more significant. Deeper. But I was sure I was wrong. So I let it pass.

- "Hey! honey! want a ride?"

(Y/N) caught me waiting for the elevator on my way out of the BAU. We were back from our case in Denver, the paperwork was ready, and we were free to go. I was eager to get home, make myself a nice cup of coffee, and do absolutely nothing but reading until I fell asleep.

I looked at her big smile and nodded. I was getting used to her rides back home. It was becoming my favorite way to end the day, actually.

- "Great, but I have a little detour"- her eyes sparkled at those words in excitement as if she was taking me out on an adventure.

- "Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?"- ok, not actually an adventure. Still, it was different from my original plan.

- "Do I have to?"- I pouted and closed my eyes, 'cos the idea wasn't really appealing.

- "Of course not, I can drop you off near your apartment and then go all alone... alone... so alone"- her chin quivered and gave me the saddest face she could.

- "Knock it"- I laughed at her as the elevator door opened, and we both walked in. We were the last ones to leave, except for Hotch, who - we were sure - lived in his office most of the time.

- "Pretty, pretty please, honey! I need your help."

- "Grocery shopping?"

- "Yes, I need you to help me pick ice cream flavors. You are an expert."- she smiled innocently, and I gave her the most incredulous face I could find, tilting my head to a side as I stared at her in silence.

- "I just don't want to go alone."

And that broke me. I slumped my shoulders, defeated, and walked with (Y/N) to her car. If there was something I knew very well, it was the feeling of not wanting to do something alone.

- "Besides, I want to make you a proposition, and I would be delighted if you said yes."- she added before we got into the car.

- "Other than picking ice cream flavors? I don't think I'm prepared for anything more important"- she stuck out her tongue to me and laughed.

- "My sarcastic honey bunny, I don't know how my days would be without your jokes"- and as I got into her car and sighed, tired after another long day at the BAU, I heard her say:

- "I actually want to invite you tomorrow for dinner at my house."

- "Really?"- I looked at her, eyes wide open, and she just kept smiling at me, like a kid on Christmas morning.

We had done a lot of things together in the eight months we had shared since she joined the BAU: we had been out for coffee together on the weekend 34 times already, and we had gone to the movies eight times, brunch six, book shopping ten, hanging out in her or my place watching tv and eating pizza, twelve times.... but dinner? in her house, like with a proper invitation, never.

- "Yeah, I don't want to freak you out, but I was thinking, maybe you would like to meet my friends."

- "Your friends?"- shit, I didn't know if I wanted to do that, actually.

- "Yes, they have been pretty annoying in the last couple of days, 'cos I haven't really seen them that much since I joined the BAU, so I invited them tomorrow for dinner at my house. I would love for you to join us."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if I wanted to meet (Y/N)'s friends. Not that I hated the idea, I just... hated the idea of being awkward in a room of strangers.

- "Why... Why would you like me to meet them?"- I nearly stuttered as I spoke.

- "Well, you are my friend, and they are my friends, and you are all special to me, and..."

(Y/N) made a pause and started driving. I don't know if she was trying to look for the right words to say what she wanted to say or too focused on the traffic.

- "And?"

- "Well, you have become my closest friend in the last months, and it would mean a lot to me if you met the other half of my world. I mean... you already met my dad."

- "We talked about a case"- I huffed, and she shook her head.

- "That's more than most people I know has ever spoken to him,"- she said with a sad smile- "And my friends have all heard a lot about you."

- "Why?"- I asked, confused.

- "Why did your mom hear a lot about me before she met me?"- she replied and turned to me for a second -"'Cos you are my friend, and though I can't see them often, I do talk to them, and I tell them what I do. And you are in everything I do."

I couldn't say no after those words, even when my social anxiety was already attacking every inch of my body. "You are in everything I do." I could relate to that.

And that's how that Saturday afternoon, I found myself walking out of my apartment with a bottle of (Y/N)'s favorite wine, 'cos I didn't want to get there empty-handed. And even when everything told me what I was doing was a bad idea, 'cos it would be awkward and weird, I just couldn't stop walking. It was beyond my own will.

- "Honey Bunny!! you are here!"- (Y/N) opened the door and invited me in. I took a few steps into her apartment and looked around- "You are just on time to help me cook."

- "And you friends?"

- "Running late as they usually do, come on!"- she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the kitchen- "Are you a good griller?"

- "Nope."

- "Have you ever actually tried to do it?"- I shook my head, confused- "Today, you are doing it for the first time then, honey, I need you to start grilling those burgers while I chop these jalapeños."

I nodded and looked around, confused.

- "Are you sure you wanna trust me with the food?"

- "As sure as I know you'll do an amazing job"- she smiled and handed me a tray with fresh homemade patties.

I looked at the kitchen island and noticed she had already done pretty much everything: tomatoes, pickles, sauces. She just needed to chop a few jalapeños.

- "So, tell me about your day, what did you do?"- she asked me and started looking for something on the shelves.

- "I talked with Ethan."

- "Your friend from college?"

- "Yeah, he has a big gig in New Orleans in a few weeks, and he wanted me to go see him."

- "That would be awesome! You should totally do it!"- I turned on the stove and did my best to remember anything about grilling I might have seen or read in my entire life. But I couldn't find anything.

- "I told him I would go if we didn't have a case."

- "You should. You haven't seen him in years!"- I nodded and kept looking at the pan as I heard her announce.

- "I'm gonna go change, 'cos I'm a mess. You are in charge of the kitchen now."

- "Are you sure you wanna do that?"- I shouted, already scared of messing it up, as she sprinted to her room.

- "I trust you with my life!"- she yelled back. And I know she meant it, 'cos she had done it.

Not every job makes you literally trust someone with your life. You are forced to do it being an FBI agent. That's why having a good team and people you trust it's fundamental. You need to have someone you rely on to do a good job. Someone you know won't get you killed, basically.

The bell took me from my thoughts a few minutes later. I had already managed to turn on the pan and placed four burgers on it. That was as far on grilling as I had ever gotten to.

- "Spencer! can you answer please?"- (Y/N) yelled from her room, and I stayed in shock for a couple of seconds. But again, though everything in my body told me it was a bad idea, my foot just walked to the door and opened it.

- "Hi"- I waved at the two guys and one girl that were standing in the hall

- "Hey! you must be Spencer!"- the girl shouted, excited- "I am Lucy, you can call me Lu, where's (Y/N)?"

- "She is changing"- I held onto the doorknob tight as the two guys walked in.

- "Hi, I'm Mikey,"- the tallest one said and waved as well- "(Y/N) said you don't shake hands."

- "And I'm Frank"- he was shorter and looked funny. He had a million tattoos and kept laughing out of everything the other guys said.

I have to remember I don't have to profile people when I'm not at work. But each time I meet someone new, I can't help but start analyzing their behavior.

- "Hey, nugget!"- Mikey yelled over (Y/N)'s room- "Stop getting pretty! It's just us!"

I had never heard anyone calling her names but Morgan. And Morgan called everybody names at work. This was her friend, so there was probably a story behind the nickname.

- "Are you cooking something?"- Lucy asked, and I ran back to the kitchen, scared I had ruined the patties (Y/N) had made. But no, they were still perfect. I looked around for something to flip them, a spatula... where would (Y/N) put a spatula? I opened a drawer and found one immediately.

- "Do you need help, man?"- Frank walked in and asked, but I shook my head.

- "Thanks, I just need to flip these"- and so, I did, and felt incredibly proud of myself, though it was the easiest task you could have in the kitchen. Frank nodded and opened the fridge.

- "What are you drinking? Do you want a beer?"- I was about to say no, but he stood next to me and gave me one. So I had no other choice but to thank him with an awkward smile.

- "So, you work with (Y/N)."

- "Yeah..."

- "You are the smart one. You are a Doctor, right?"- I started wondering what had (Y/N) said to her friends about me- "She talks a lot about you, I'm glad you are not the kind of awful boring fed I think she is surrounded with."

- "Frank, where the fuck is my beer?"- Mikey walked in and opened the fridge as the other guy had done before. They were clearly close to (Y/N), 'cos they walked around her house with complete familiarity.

- "Sorry, I forgot, I was talking with (Y/N)'s friend."

I could hardly consider what we were doing "talking" 'cos I had barely said anything, but I was ok with it.

- "Hey, what's up"- Mikey smiled at me, and I did my best to find anything to say, but all I managed to do was to sip my beer and nod.

- "He is the smart kid,"- Frank clarified and made me chuckle.

- "You can call me Spencer"- I managed to whisper and made my best effort not to be awkward- "(Y/N) told me a lot about you too. You are the only friends she had growing up."

Their faces lit with my words, they were proud of her, and you could see it coming from each of their gestures.

- "Yes, we met the kid when she was a mess,"- Frank said, chuckling- "We lived in the same neighborhood, the four of us,"- he added, implying Lucy, who I guessed was with (Y/N) in her room.

- "So you all went to school together?"

- "No, (Y/N)'s dad got her into an uptight private school, 'cos teachers told them she was too smart for public education"- that was new. She had never mentioned it before.

- "Be fair"- Mikey smiled at his friend and sipped his beer. I did the same and looked at the burgers. Everything was still good. Maybe I could handle grilling burgers on a pan after all.

- "She was actually smarter, I mean... we should finish college"- I snickered at those words, and both of them stared at me.

- "We are not her loser friends"- Frank tried to explain- "She just has a loser boyfriend."

- "Paul, right?"- I asked, and the two of them shook their heads.

- "You met the asshole, I presume?"

- "Yeah, I saw him once."

- "Did he talk to you?"- it was as clear Frank hated Paul, his whole body tensed just talking about him.

- "Not really, he just..."- I made a pause and realized (Y/N)'s boyfriend had never actually spoken to me the day I met him- "He just asked her who I was.... and that's it."

- "Well, we hate him,"- Frank said and looked around- We have a celebration ready for their break up, and you are invited.

Though the idea of her friends waiting for her relationship to end was a little rough, I can't say I disagreed with them. Paul was a jerk.

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "He is cute!"- Lu walked into the closet and leaned on the door- "I can see why you like hanging out with him."

- "It's not like that"- I know I blushed, but I couldn't help it- "We get along, we work together, he is my friend"- she looked at me with incredulous eyes- "Think what you want, he is just my friend."

- "Then why are you changing your shirt for the fourth time?"- I stayed still and looked at her, narrowing my eyebrows.

- "'Cos apparently, all my shirts are dirty."

- "Yeah, I can see..."- Lu pointed at all the clean clothing hanging around us.

- "Ok, ok, I'm ready. Let's go before Mikey drinks all the beer."

- "Wait! Hug me! I haven't seen you in three weeks!"- Lu wrapped her arms around me tight, so tight I nearly choke.

- "Shit, you really missed me!"

- "I did"- she let me go and smiled with such happiness I couldn't help but giggle.

- "I missed you too. I can't believe it's been three weeks!"

- "You've been busy catching psychopaths."

- "Yeah... I've got two in the living room right now."

Nothing prepared me for what I found when I walked into my kitchen. Frank, Mikey, and Spencer were laughing and drinking beer, like long-lost friends.

- "It's good to know you already got along,"- I managed to say before Frank and Mikey tackled me at the very same time.

- "You are a real person!!"- Frank yelled in my ear.

- "I am, Frank! and you are killing me!!"

- "Shut up!"

- "Shit! I thought I was never going to see you again!"- Mikey let me go and chuckled- "You look taller."

- "I wish!"

The two of them stood in front of me with silly grins, and I'm pretty sure I looked the same. I missed my friends. I had never missed my friends as much as I had done when I first joined the BAU. I was used to being with them whenever I wanted to.

- "Ok, come here, one more hug,"- I said, wrapping my arms around them tight- "Thank you, Mikey."

- "Why?"

- "You took a shower"- he chuckled and pinched my cheeks

- "That's how much I missed you, nugget."

I hated that nickname. It stuck with my friends ever since I won a nugget eating competition when I was fifteen. And I prayed Spencer wouldn't ask about it.

- "Doc, did she tell you about that nugget eating competition she won when she was a kid?"- but Frank opened his big pierced mouth.

- "He doesn't want to know that!"- I hit his arm and walked to Spencer, who smiled and nodded.

- "I actually want to know about that"- Reid wide opened his eyes and chuckled- "Did that really happen?"

- "If you tell that story, you won't eat tonight,"- I threatened Frank, and he just smiled.

- "That's ok, I won't tell him we went to a local fair when we were like fourteen, fifteen?"- he turned to Mikey to reassure our age.

- "Fifteen"- and, Frank continued.

- "Right! And we bet she couldn't win the nugget eating competition they had... and so she signed in, and not only won the whole thing, but also managed to puke the judge's table. Somehow, even the people in the first row."

I covered my face in embarrassment as I heard Spencer laughing.

- "Please tell me this is true!"

- "It is!"- Mikey nodded- "We don't know how the hell she did it, but she was like a hose of vomit, like The Exorcist, it was the most disgusting show I've ever seen... but she won"

All my friends were laughing, and I was mortified.

- "Oh, come on, nugget, it's a good story"- Frank wrapped an arm around my shoulder and placed a wet kiss on my cheek- "You've given us joy for the last.... what? almost ten years."

- "Shut up."

Suddenly I remembered why I didn't want my BAU colleges to meet my friends. Just Spencer, 'cos he actually knew the real me.

We sat to eat. Mikey, Lu, and Frank kept updating me on everything that had happened to them in the latest weeks. Texting is ok, but nothing beats talking. And shit, me and my friends talked a lot.

I was worried Spencer would get bored, but he looked like he was having fun, probably 'cos he kept laughing at every single story the guys and I kept telling.

- "Once, she came from school with her hands covered in bandages. She got home, and her hands were fucked up."- Frank was especially proud of that particular story- "Long story short, some random guy had grabbed her ass in school, and she beat up the shit out of him."

- "I've seen her fight psychopaths. She is tough"- Reid added and took a sip of coke- "Considering now she has a license to carry a gun, I wouldn't make her mad."

- "Yeah, she's scarier now,"- Lu added and stuck her tongue out to me.

- "Why don't you tell embarrassing stories about yourselves now? What do you say?"- I stood up and started piling the dirty dishes. Spencer quickly followed me, but I stopped him.

- "No, honey bunny, you are a guess tonight, so you don't have to do anything."

It was sweet how he blushed and sat down again.

- "Doc already has a nickname of his own?"- Frank asked and lit a cigarette- "Man, you really are close."

- "Shut up, Frankie,"- I yelled on my way to the kitchen- "You already got him a nickname too!"

- "She can't call people by their real names,"- Lu whispered, and Spencer chuckled- "She keeps calling me "Baby cheeks" since we were ten."

- "We call her weird names too, as a payback"- Michael James added- "I'm gonna go get another beer. Anyone wants anything else?"

He didn't actually wait for a reply; he walked with me to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

- "So, are you ready to break up with Paul?"- Mikey has always been straight forwards, but that day he was on fire- "We hate that guy. We like Doc now."

I turned to look at him, but his face was buried in my fridge looking for beer.

- "You'll tell me the fuck I have to do the day hell freezes, and I come crying at your door for help."

- "I'm just saying what the audience is thinking."

- "The audience being you, Lu and Frank?"

- "Basically"- Mikey closed the fridge and walked back to the table. I sighed and left the dishes in the sink.

I have always loved Mikey like a brother. Even when I actually have a brother. I met the little brat when we were five years old, and his family moved to the house next door. He was always my best friend. He, Frank, Lu, and I were always together growing up.

Living outside the city gave us the American dream of childhood, I guess. Lots of trees to climb, gardens to play in, bugs to catch, lemonades to drink. I don't know how many people out there manage to stay in touch with their childhood buddies as we did. It took a lot of work, it was a relationship, and you had to make an effort. But it was all worthy, especially in moments like those, when I heard them laughing in my dining room, probably telling Spencer another embarrassing joke.

- "Ok, Doc, your turn,"- Lu said and sipped her tea. We were sitting around the coffee table, drinking beer, just talking. Frank kept changing the music, excited with every song that came from the radio.

- "What about me?"- Reid blushed and looked at his hands, holding a cup of coffee.

- "Tell us more about yourself. So far, you know pretty much everything about us."

- "I still don't know what you do, actually"- Reid managed to avoid the question.

- "Engineer"- Lu raised her hands and then pointed at Frank- "Finishing his major in Psychology, believe it or not"- and finally, Mikey- "The best architect we've ever seen, as soon as he graduates"- all my friend bowed, and Reid chuckled.

- "Ok... well, there's no much to know about me."

- "How old are you?"- Frank started quizzing

- "Twenty-four."

- "How long have you been a Fed?"

- "Two years."

- "Where are you from?"- Frankie loves questioning people.

- "Las Vegas"

- "Awesome, do you gamble?"- Mikey finished his hundredth beer and tapped on my leg, smiling. He was happy we were there; I could tell by his glassy drunken eyes.

- "Actually, I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump because of my card counting ability."

I chuckled, thinking so would I if I had his ability.

- "Can we go to Atlantic City? you are not banned there"- Frank's eyes were now wide opened as he heard Reid's words- "I swear I'm gonna get you all the booze in the world, and the shrimps... and the whores if that's what you need, you just gotta gamble and make us rich."

Spencer blinked, staring at my friend, as I smacked Frank's head.

- "(Y/N)! Fuck! that hurt!"

- "You can't use Spencer's talents for evil! The guy is a hero, for Christ's sake!"- Reid looked at me, blushing, and I winked- "Besides, he's FBI; he can't do that!"

- "You are FBI too, SSA (Y/L/N)"- Lu threw me a napkin.

- "Shut up, baby cheeks."

- "And why don't you drink?"- Mikey asked Spencer, ignoring me and Lu's argument.

I guess that's something that has always shocked Mikey about people. I don't know why. Maybe 'cos we all drink a lot, except Lu, but she is a fervent supporter. She always stops us from doing crazy shit when we are drunk, like only a good friend does.

- "I don't... I have never really drunk a lot,"- Spencer tried to explain.

- "Really? Not even in high school?"- I noticed somehow Frank's question made Spencer nervous. He was fidgety and turned to me for a second. I tried to give him my warmest smile to make him feel comfortable.

- "I finished high school when I was twelve, so..."

My three friends stared at him in silence. Sure, I had told them Spencer was a genius, but I don't think they understood the kind of genius he was until then.

- "Ok, Doc, we are changing that tonight"- Frank tapped in his back and stood up quickly- "We are getting you drunk."

- "I don't think you need to do that,"- I argued, knowing Reid was uncomfortable with the idea, or with the pressure, as a matter of fact.

- "Oh! Come on, what if we play a drinking game? I'm not gonna force him to drink! I'm just saying Doc is missing one hell of an experience. Don't you want to know what kind of drunk you are? Happy? Sad? Funny? Emo?"

- "Are you sure he is majoring in psychology?"- Spencer turned to me and said, making Mikey and Lu laugh immediately.

- "I'm so sorry, you don't have to do anything,"- I reassured and moved a little closer to him- "Frank gets excited... well... with everything."

I giggled, thinking there was no way to explain the bubbly personality of my friend. Sometimes, he tries to overcompensate with excitement and joy in any kind of situation when he thinks someone is sad or awkward. I think it's a coping mechanism he has since his parents got divorced, and he saw how sad his mother was.

- "Ok, kids, we are playing "Never Have I Ever." You all know the rules"- Frank put a whisky bottle in the middle of the table, shot glasses, and another round of beer.

- "I'm out,"- Lu said right away.

- "You can play with beer sips instead of shots"- Mikey tried to convince her- "Come on, it will be fun"- and with those words, Lu accepted.

Mikey always had his ways around her. I don't know if there was a secret crush I didn't know about hidden there or what, but those two... I don't know.

- "Are you sure you want to do this?"- I asked Reid, and he nodded with a sweet smile.

- "Yeah, why not?"

- "Ok, Doc, ready?"- Frank smiled from across the table, poured the shots, and looked at us with an evil grin- "Never have I ever pee from the roof of a house."

We all looked at each other, frowning, confused. That, until Mikey grabbed the shot and drank it.

- "Fucker!!"- he punched Frank's arm as we laughed.

- "I don't wanna know!"- Lu covered her ears as Spencer and I kept laughing.

- "When? Why?"- he asked and sipped his beer. Spencer Reid was drinking beer and having fun. My job was done for the night.

- "Two weeks ago at Frank's... we were a little..."- he made a pause and looked at me- "Are you a Fed or my best friend right now?"

- "I'm always going to be your best friend. Why?"

- "'Cos I don't know if I can talk about smoking weed around you anymore"- I closed my eyes and held my head with both hands.

- "Milky, that's the silliest thing you've ever said in front of me, and you've said some stupid shit before. I don't care about your weed smoking, as long as you don't do it around me or in my house."

Frank stopped moving that second. He was about to lit a joint.

- "Oh, man! really?"- he asked in shock.

- "Sorry buddy, new rules, not my rules, but the government's... so... smoke it where I can't see you, ok?"

- "In the bathroom?"

- "Fine... but next time, make it a brownie, ok?"

We continued playing for a while. It turned out to be a fun game, after all. Until I realized Spencer had barely drunk. And my drunk self decided to change that.

- "Ok... so... never have I ever... finished high school at twelve years old"- the look in his eyes when I said that was priceless. I think he was petrified.

- "Burn!!"- Frankie yelled and poured him a shot- "Now drink it, Doc!"

- "Ok, my turn,"- Lu said and smiled innocently- "Never have I ever... killed someone."

I'm sure she had no idea. I hadn't told her other guys about it. Actually, only Spencer knew. And so, we grabbed out shots and drank them at the same time.

A heavy silence hung in the room for a few seconds. My friends looked at me in silence, scared and confused. I just nodded and cut them an awkward smile.

- "Yeah, so... it was going to happen eventually,"- I whispered and looked at my empty glass- "Maybe an extra one for the murderers on the table."

I grabbed the bottle, pouring another shot for Reid and me. I looked at him and sighed

- "Thank you, by the way"- he just nodded and drank with me.

- "Ok, this got too heavy and serious all of a sudden"- Frank can't handle sobriety that well either, so he clapped his hands and shouted- "Never have I ever kissed my best friend!"

There was dead silence around that coffee table. We all looked at each other, waiting for the one who was going to drink. But no one did.

- "Really?"- Mikey frowned, confused- "We haven't kissed?"

- "No!!"- Lu nearly yelled- "Unless you and Frank..."- they looked at each other and shrugged, to then peck their lips. I chuckled, thinking I couldn't get better friends even if I tried.

- "Oh! that reminds me: never have I ever kissed Lila Archer."

- "I hate you!"- Spencer whispered and narrowed his eyes at me as I just laughed.

- "No fucking way!!"- Frank kneeled next to Reid and starter bowing- "Dude, you are a god, I god I have said!!"

- "Drink, heartbreaker"- I poured his shot and watched him frown as the alcohol went down his throat.

- "Ok, really, I need details."- Frank said and grabbed his beer.

- "I'm not gonna give you details!!"- Spencer chuckled and shook his head- "A gentleman never kiss and tell."

- "But friends watch them kiss and can tell everything!"- I interrupted him and grinned evilly- "Let me tell you the whole story."

Spencer's point of view

I thought I was about to die when I felt someone shake my arm. I didn't know where I was, what time it was. What had happened?

- "Honey, wake up, we've got a case"- (Y/N) was in her pajamas, standing next to me. Her make-up all smeared on her face, and her hair was a mess.

- "What?"

- "JJ called, we need to..."- she stopped talking and yawned- "We need to sober up, we've got a case."

What the fuck had happened?

I sat down slowly, 'cos everything was still spinning around me, and looked at the mess we had made. I was sleeping on the couch, beer bottles all around me, and some leftover pizza we asked at two in the morning.

- "Where's everybody?"- I whispered and brushed my hands against my face in a poor and miserable attempt to wake up.

- "They left after you passed out."

- "I passed out?"

I really had no idea what had happened.

- "Listen, I'm gonna take a quick shower, then I'll take you to your apartment so you can shower, then we'll drive to Quantico, deal?"- I nodded and rested my head on the couch again.

- "Ok, just let me here for a moment."

Apparently, I had been on fire the night before, 'cos after getting drunk, Frank and Mikey tried to teach me how to ride a skate and took me downstairs. My scraped knees were enough evidence of my failure.

I had fun that night. Like I hadn't had in a long while. (Y/N)'s friends were probably the coolest guys I had ever known. Obviously, they would have bullied me in school. I guess. I don't know. That kind of thought always comes to mind when I meet someone, probably 'cos it was one of the first things I thought of every time anyone talked to me in high school and then in college.

- "My man!"- Derek tapped on my back as he walked into the meeting room- "What were you reading when you got the call tonight?"

- "Not now, Morgan"- he frowned and looked at me, sipping my coffee and then at (Y/N), right next to me, doing the same thing.

- "Are you guys drunk?"

- "What?"- JJ and Penelope almost shouted, and I closed my eyes in pain. I could feel her voice drilling my ears until it reached my brain. (Y/N) touched my arm gently and gave me one ibuprofen. Yes, she could read my mind, I'm sure.

- "The two stooges came straight from the party! Look at them!"

- "First of all, Morgan, we are not drunk"- (Y/N)'s voice was serious. She would always get like that when someone questioned her work- "Second of all, we didn't come straight from the party. We were sleeping, took a shower, drank coffee..."

- "Wait, wait, wait, little mama"- I knew precisely when (Y/N)'s mistake had been- "You two were sleeping together?"

The silence in the room was epic. JJ, Garcia, and Morgan kept looking at us in shock. I know I was blushing, but my best friend didn't even flinch.

- "You could say so, but no..."

- "I slept on the couch,"- I explained and noticed the proud smile on Derek's face.

- "We've got a double murder and a child abduction in Wichita,"- Hotch said, walking into the room with Gideon. His voice was as loud as painful. Everybody sat around the table and looked at him, but I knew exactly what would happen later.

I had never been so hungover in my entire life. Ok, I'm gonna reformulate that: I had never been hungover in my whole life, and I wasn't loving it, not when the team had to deal with a pretty hard case.

(Y/N) got me a Gatorade and stood by my side, staring at the board in silence. Hotch had been considerate enough to leave us at the police station working on the profile instead of letting us basically interact with people. Smart move, I must say.

- "I'm sorry,"- she whispered, still looking in front. I turned to her, confused. What was she apologizing for?

- "I should have let the guys go so wild last night..."

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You shouldn't be hungover..."

- "I'm not following you"- she finally looked at me and cut me one tiny guilty smile.

- "You are the most important profiler in this team, and you are struggling to stay awake because we partied too hard last night..."

- "As far as I remember, I was there, and you didn't force me to drink."

- "Yeah, but... I was the one saying things I knew were going to make you drunk."

And she was right about that. "Never have I ever gotten a Ph.D. in chemistry." "Never have I ever been banned from casinos." "Never have I ever read War and Peace over breakfast." She knew I would have to drink.

- "I was having fun, (Y/N), otherwise I would have left"- I knew she didn't believe me, so I tried harder to look convincing.

- "And your friends were incredible. They are pretty funny and welcoming. I usually don't get along with strangers... and usually, they don't get along with me."

- "They loved you! I swear! They are never so nice to any of my friends."

She was excited about it 'cos her eyes were shining and grabbed her phone from her pocket.

- "Look! Frankie texted, "Bring Doc to our show next week! I gotta pay the bet he won."

- "What bet?"- I didn't remember anything about any bet.

- "I have no idea... you two are now officially best friends."

Each time I remember that day, I can't stop thinking about how many ways (Y/N) had changed my life.

- "Reid"- on the way back home, Gideon called me and asked me to sit with him on the jet. I thought he was going to invite me to play chess, but no. Instead, he wanted to scold me.

- "I heard you were at a party the other night"- I chuckled and nodded.

- "Yeah, (Y/N) invited me over to meet her friends,"- I explained and was about to give him more details when I saw his face. He looked upset and disappointed. I didn't know why.

- "I thought you said she wasn't affecting your work."

- "She isn't."

- "Clearly, she is. You had never come drunk to work before."

- "It was a one-time thing, and to be fair, we were called at three in the morning. I have the right to party in my free time."

- "You should be focused on our job, we are saving lives, and if you continue this path, you'll be wasting everything you've accomplished."- he made a pause. I think he tried to be nicer or more paternal. Or, like (Y/N) would say, a little human.

- "I just need you to keep your priorities straight."

I was speechless. There was so much I wanted to say to Gideon, but I couldn't. Not only because I was so upset I knew I wasn't going to filter a word, but also because I felt petrified. He was actually treating me like a son, and that felt weird. It was heartwarming and nerve-wracking at the same time. I knew I could do whatever I wanted to do in my free time. And I knew if it had been Morgan who came straight from the party, Gideon wouldn't make it a big deal. Why me?

It didn't get better when we reached the bullpen the morning after. Five minutes after we had started doing all the paperwork we were supposed to finish by the end of the day, Gideon called (Y/N) to his office.

My heart dropped. I knew what was going to happen. And she knew it too. I could read it on her face. But yet, she smiled at me, so sweetly, telling me with her eyes, I had nothing to worry about. But I had a lot to worry about, I knew she would blame herself for anything Gideon might tell her, and the worst part was knowing she would think she deserved it. But she didn't. God! She didn't.

I stood up and tried to walk to her, but she winked and told me not to with a sweet smile. She sprinted to Gideon's and closed the door behind her back.

- "What's going on?"- Penelope whispered as she appeared behind my back with a box of cookies. It was like she could feel when something was wrong, 'cos she always showed when she was needed the most.

- "I don't know"- I lied and kept looking at the window in Gideon's office. I couldn't see anything, but yet, I couldn't move my eyes.

- "Is Gideon mad at her?"- I shrugged, lying again- "Is it because you were drunk at work?"

- "I wasn't drunk! I was hungover!"- she turned to me and smiled

- "Poteito, potato Reid"- she sat next to me and stared at the window with me for a second. I tried not to tell a thing and look as neutral as possible, but I knew it was impossible. Garcia always knew better.

- "She won't get in trouble. It's not her fault you can't handle drinks"- I wanted to smile, but I just couldn't.

- "I can manage my drinks"- I could feel her frowning at me, holding the laughter- "It was just... a lot."

- "Did you have fun?"- I nodded and smiled- "That's good. You deserve to have fun."

- "I learned how to skateboard"- I was actually proud of it, so I even showed her my scrapped hands and elbows.

- "Wow! that's awesome! who taught you?"

- "Frank, one of (Y/N)'s friends"- I answered casually and turned to Gideon's office again.

- "You met them? I need to know everything! She is way too private! What are they like? Were they nice?"- did (Y/N) want the team to find out more about them? I knew it was about time, but I didn't know if she wanted me to say anything.

- "They are nice."

- "And skaters? wow! are they hot?"

- "How would I know?"- I looked at Garcia, confused, and I could tell she wanted me to continue talking.

- "They were two guys and a girl. The three of them are her childhood friends, Lu, Mikey, and Frank. They were all very friendly to me. (Y/N) cooked dinner, we had way too many beers, played drinking games... it was fun."

I kept trying to make it sound real casual, but it had been one of the best nights of my life. What a loser, right?

When (Y/N) finally left Gideon's office, her face was red, but she walked casually back to her desk, sat behind it, grabbed a file, and started working. She didn't even make eye contact with me.

I looked at Gideon's office. His door was closed. You didn't need to be a genius or a profiler to know that conversation hadn't been pleasant. I opened one of my drawers and looked for my emergency candy stack. Yes, I had one. I still have one. It helps to go through the bad days, especially (Y/N)'s bad days.

- "I thought you might need one of these, "- I whispered and left a Snickers on her desk. She chuckled and sniffed.

- "Thank you, honey... I mean, thank you, Reid"- I frowned, confused, and kneeled next to her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and I could tell she was making her best not to cry.

- "What happened? are you ok?"

- "Yeah, I'm ok... you should go back to work"- she wiped off the one single tear that ran down her cheek and smiled at me.

- "We have a lot to do before we go home"- she was right, but that wasn't enough reason to make me move from her side.

- "What did he say?"

- "Nothing, nothing, don't worry. I'm just silly and emotional over nothing, really."

(Y/N) is an incredible liar. Still, that day, she was doing a lousy job. I frowned and held her hand, rubbing my thumb against her skin. I didn't do it often; actually, I don't think I had done it more than twice before. I could feel Morgan and Penelope looking over us from his desk, but I didn't care.

- "It doesn't matter what he said, you are my best friend, and I'm not gonna let anything get between us, not even this work, ok?"- she bit her lips and nodded.

I wanted to hold her and kiss the top of her head, but I only managed to rub her hand with my thumb for a few more minutes, looking at her eyes, doing my best to comfort her. There were a lot of things I wanted to tell her that minute, but none of them seemed to leave my lips. So I just stayed quiet, and she stared at me in silence as well.

- "Come on, Reid. It's time to work"- she finally whispered. I just nodded and stood up.

- "Hey, do you think you can give me a ride home tonight?"- she smiled back at me, and I held her hand for a second longer before I moved from her side. Gideon was looking at me, and I didn't care. He said I had to keep my priorities straight, and so I did.

Everything started happening too quickly suddenly. It was like the time in my life had passed so slowly until then. And after (Y/N) came along, life was on fast forwards.

Four-month came and passed ever since Elle's attack, and she was back into the team, though she didn't look ok at all. I could read it on her face every second of every day. But for some reason, everybody pretended like it wasn't happening at all.

For a team of profilers, sometimes the guys acted like they couldn't read anyone. I know we weren't supposed to profile each other, but this was common sense. I knew Gideon could see it, but he acted like everything was just fine.

Meanwhile, things with the team got a little... closer. I knew they were my friends, but I think I could start feeling a little more understood around them. Still, it was hard. (Y/N) made me feel more comfortable, though. She was letting herself loose around them too, little by little. And you could tell the team loved her. The real (Y/N).

But everything with Gideon was getting worse for her. It was odd. The closer we got, the more Gideon tried to push her away from me. We didn't let it affect our work, and let me tell you; we were all making the best we could every day in every case. But the second we caught the unsub, Jason would act like (Y/N) didn't exist.

I knew Hotch tried to talk to him out of his behavior, but we all knew that was nearly impossible. Once an idea was conceived in his brain, it would be his law and obsession. Gideon was brilliant but not flawless. I wanted to be like him, and at the very same time, I didn't want to end up like him. He wasn't a bad person, and I knew he was trying to help me, but he was utterly wronged in his personal ways.

Everything got weirder when Elle left. It was out of the blue, though once you think about it, every sign was there; we were all just too blind to see them. Sometimes you only focus on the killer and not on the victims, I guess. And at a certain point, we are all victims, sooner or later.

So Elle vanished, she hunted and killed an unsub on her own, lied about it, Hotch knew it, tried to help her. But it was useless. I think she was far gone before she actually left. She never came back the same Elle that left home before she was attacked.

More things happened those months, believe it or not, I managed to organize (Y/N)'s birthday at the BAU, and it was a hit. Yes, me, Spencer Walter Reid, threw a birthday party at the BAU. Garcia helped with the cake, JJ with some decorations, and I got her so many presents she had to ask Morgan for help to carry them to her car. It was a fantastic day. Even Gideon was nice to her.

She invited us all to her big celebration at a local bar that night. JJ, Morgan, Garcia, and I went. It was fun, 'cos Lu, Mikey, and Frank were there, and they were the friendliest people in the whole bar... mostly because Paul was also there and you could read it in his eyes, he hated me. Not just me, he hated all of (Y/N)'s friends. No wonder why Mikey and Frank wanted them to break up.

It didn't get better when Hotch called, and we were forced to leave and go back to the BAU for a case in the middle of the celebration.

- "Keep her safe, ok?"- Frankie said and tapped on my back as we said goodbye.

- "Always."

But that day was the first time I failed on my task. I wish I could say it was the only time it happened, but sadly, it wasn't.

We were after the unsub who had kidnapped three young women and forced them to kill each other to survive. He was hidden in his house, in a wine cellar, keeping one hostage. Morgan walked in first. (Y/N) followed him, and I was right behind her, covering her back. It was all clear until we reached the basement.

The unsub was holding a gun against the girl's forehead, and from there, everything escalated very quickly. Morgan tried to stop him, but the unsub was too violent too fast, like a bomb seconds before detonating. I distinctly remember asking (Y/N) to stay back, but of course, she didn't. Instead, she stood too close to the killer, trying to talk to him, and rescue the girl.

And though she unarmed him, he managed to hit her, trying to get her gun. She fought back, but neither Derek nor I had a clear shot. I was able to take the victim away from the killer, but (Y/N) ended up beat up. Of course, Morgan was the hero. He finally pushed the unsub away from her, and I just ran to hold her while he cuffed that asshole.

- "Are you ok?"- I was nearly hyperventilating and kept checking her quickly. No broken bone, a possible concussion, bruises all over her face...

- "I'm ok, honey, really,"- she whispered and stood up. I grabbed her waist and helped her walk out until we reached the ambulance.

- "How are you feeling?"- Hotch asked and looked at (Y/N), honestly worried.

- "I hope he is feeling worse"- I took off my jacket and put it on her back. She smiled at me, and the paramedic did a check-up.

- "Honey, really, I'm ok"- she turned to me and tried to calm me down, but I wasn't going to do so until a professional told me so.

- "Can you check her for concussion and internal organ damage? I don't mean to be rude, I don't wanna tell you how to do your job, but she got a few punches on the lower stomach, and I am concerned she could..."

- "Spencer Walter Reid, I am ok, it's just a few bruises, that's all"- I've always loved it when she calls me by my full name. I don't know why.

- "Well, that's not the point, I am taking care of you today for a change, and it's not a question."

The way she smiled at me that moment was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She held my hand and rested her head on my shoulder.

- "You always take care of me, honey... thank you."

- "I could have done better today,"- I whispered, feeling guilty for each one of her bruises.

- "No, I was stupid, you told me to stay back, and I didn't listen."

- "Are you ok?"- Gideon appeared suddenly and looked at (Y/N).

- "Yes, sir. Nothing that a few ibuprofens and a bag of ice can't fix"- she smiled at him nicely, and he... he chuckled.

You don't understand. Gideon chuckled at something (Y/N) said. That was more challenging than making Hotch laugh. I decided to take that as a good sign. Maybe they could get along after all. Maybe. I hoped so.

I guess Elle's departure did something to the team. It brought us closer. No matter what everyone else said. The fact one of us could literally vanish from the face of Earth from one day to another made us all think. Think of what we were doing and why. The fact we could all get hurt each time we were out in the field. I guess at a certain point at the BAU, you realize you could die on a case. That's it. You might never come back from an assignment.

--

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @svveet-peas @muffin-cup @shilohpug

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: April 28th, 2021

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Loboto’s parents

Warnings: Surgery, lobotomy, hallucinations, child abuse, EVERYTHING IS HORRIBLE AND NOTHING IS OKAY WITH THIS (but there’s nothing graphic)

Description: Just be still, and you'll be fine.

Beta Readers: @jaywings​ and Rocket (who I’m not sure is on Tumblr?)

Notes: who let me write Psychonauts fanfic. also some of the phrases in this fic were taken from this site.

---~~~---

“Scattering sparks of thought energy

Deliver me and carry me away”

“Here in my kingdom, I am your lord

I order you to cower and præy”

- The Mind Electric, by Tally Hall

 ---

Sometimes it was nice to just lay down in the park and watch the clouds float overhead.

He often had a lot of energy, both normal and... well... unnatural, but sometimes it was nice to relax, especially when he didn't feel like himself. His energy was ebbing, and there was something… something...

"Can you tell us another?"

He glanced up. Several of his usual playmates were standing around him, their faces lit up in interest. He grinned a wide, toothy grin.

"The boy babbled blatantly but was blessed with a brilliant brain!"

"Good!"

The compliment made his brow furrow. Normally they might cheer "cool!" or "awesome!" but he shrugged—he'd take it. It gave him a warm feeling inside, unlike the frequent chill of his own home. Plus, he couldn’t help but light up as he watched the smiles on his friends’ faces—some of them were still losing baby teeth, he noted, and the progression was fascinating. He knew what he could do to see more of those grins, too...

Without raising his head too much—it hurt a little, and he could see well enough from where he was—he glanced around to make sure his mother wasn't too close by. Luckily she was way off in the pavilion, talking to several other adults. Good; she wouldn't see, and neither would the other prying parents.

"How about this?" he asked, and with a tiny bit of concentration lifted a few rocks off the ground, spinning them in circles. Instead of cheering, however, the children backed away, their smiles fading.

"Look, he's trying to—!" one girl whispered frantically.

"Don't worry, he's fine for now."

He frowned, dropping the rocks. "O-oh, I'm sorry! I didn't think they would see..."

"That's okay. Can you tell us another?"

"Disappointed dogs don't do dangerous deeds." Wincing, he closed his eyes—there was a breeze that seemed to pass over his head only, running through his hair.

His scalp felt cold.

---

"Go on, Caligosto. Show the doctor how you can pick it up."

"Like this...?"

"No, the other way."

"But... mother doesn't like it when I do it that way."

"Do as you're told, Caligosto."

"...Okay..."

The fish swam all about the pond, but came closer to the surface when they realized he was watching from his usual spot on the shore. As they nearned him, he settled over the grass, staring down at his scaly friends. The fish seemed to like his company, and they wouldn't snitch to his parents if he did anything they wouldn't like.

On top of that, he felt a connection with them, almost like the sort of connection he could feel with people. They couldn't talk, and they didn't have facial expressions… but he could almost read them somehow, more and more as he continued visiting. Now he could sense what foods they wanted, or when they were scared of a nearby predator. It was nice to help them out.

It was also interesting to see the different kinds of teeth the fish had—some had sharp fangs, some had tiny flat teeth, and some had teeth in weird places, like their tongue or throat!

"Can you hear us?"

He would have jumped, but that would have scared the fish. As it was, he leaned forward, his eyes wide beneath their glasses. "Yes! I can hear you!" He could hardly contain his excitement. "I'd always thought I could hear you before, but never this clear! Do you think—"

"Good! Can you tell us another?"

He blinked. "Another what?"

"Another phrase."

Oh, right. In his excitement he'd nearly forgotten that he'd occasionally show off for the fish as well, though he'd never been sure if they could understand. "Friendly fish flip-flop fast when facing fearsome foes!"

"Very good!"

Giggling, he settled himself back down on the soft grass. "I'm glad you think so... my parents always tell me to be quiet."

Apparently, the fish had nothing to say to this, for they remained quiet, swimming just under the surface and watching him. So he kept watching them too, observing the light that reflected off their scales. But one creature caught his eye: a small turtle swimming in place. It was odd to see to begin with, but the paddling of its little feet seemed strangely frantic, its front legs moving in big sweeping arcs. It didn't speak, but he swore he could hear it—

Away, away—

---

"Is that... all he's capable of?"

"I'm afraid not."

"D—Father, are we done? I don't like it here..."

"Only speak when spoken to, Caligosto."

"Can we see anything else?"

"Yes."

"I-I don't want to—"

"Caligosto."

"Okay, okay! Let me—"

---

The seas were calm, and he had worked hard today as a navigator (or was he first mate? he couldn't quite remember, but that was okay), keeping a close eye on the compass and making sure they were staying on course. They were nearing the shore, but for now, he was taking a break, resting against a coil of rope with his eyes closed, enjoying the smell of the ocean air and the feeling of sunshine.

And also trying to forget his headache—he was pretty sure he bumped his head coming down from the crow's nest.

"You're doin' good today, mate! Squawk!"

He opened one eye, noting the parrot sitting just behind him. "Thanks, Crackers!"

Birds hadn’t been something that interested him too much at first; what kind of silly animal didn’t have teeth? That is, until he’d learned that birds have a weird organ that acted as their teeth. Fascinating!

The parrot cocked her head at him. "Do you know any more?"

Oh right, of course the parrot enjoyed those phrases. "The pretty parrot perched upon the putrid pirate's peacoat!"

Crackers gave a pleased chirp, ruffling her feathers.

Wincing, he found his headache was starting to get worse, like a bad toothache, and closed his eyes again. "Do you think we'll reach shore soon?"

We won't if you don't get out.

He opened his eyes. Crackers was gone.

---

"STOP! STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

"What are you doing?!"

"I-I just did what you asked—"

"I didn't tell you to—!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Put him out, hurry—"

"We've seen enough, doctor. We'll schedule an appointment for your son next week."

"N-next week?!"

"Very well. He'll be there promptly."

---

The kids’ expressions had changed from bright smiles to tightly-drawn lips and wide eyes, and it made him shudder. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, it's fine. Tell us another."

"The store..." He paused, concentrating. Strange, he didn't usually have trouble remembering these things, but it must have just been his headache. "The store clerk stood and... stared at me in stupor."

"I would too after what I've seen," one kid muttered, only to be shushed by another.

His heart gave a pained jolt. "Wh-what?"

"Nothing!"

He didn't like the way they were talking—it reminded him of... something else. Someone else. Another child stepped closer to him, looking down at him with a furrowed brow and frightened eyes. He felt the sudden urge to scoot away.

You're in danger.

---

"Wh...where am I supposed to go?"

"Just in through these doors."

"Okay... Why do I have to come back here to the doctor, though? I feel fine."

"Nevermind that. Do you remember what your father told you to do?"

"Yeah! The fun phrases. I know a million of those!"

"Good."

"Would you like to hear... w-wait, who are all these people watching? Wh... what are those?"

---

The fish were swimming in circles and starting to make him dizzy. He rested his head down in the cool grass, but it did little to help. "Oh... sorry. I'm not feeling so good. I should be going home..."

"You can go home soon. Tell us another first."

"Ugh... My mom... m-my... mother makes a... marvelous... meat... mincemeat pie." Recalling these phrases was starting to feel like what he imagined pulling teeth felt like, but a lot less fun. Was his mother missing him now? How long had he been gone? "I... really need to go home now."

"No you don't."

His eyes shot open, and he shivered as he stared down at the fish. "Wh... what did you... say?"

"Don't try to move. You'll be all right."

All of the fish watched him eagerly... but the turtle was still waving its front feet even more frantically.

---

"Don't worry about that."

"N-no! I know what those tools are—I've read my dad's books. You're gonna hurt me!"

"Nonsense. Just lay on the bed and you'll be fine."

"No, I don't want to! You can't make me!"

---

The ship heaved up and down with the swell of the waves. His insides rolled with it, and he remained lying on the coil of rope, waiting for his stomach to stop lurching and his head to stop aching.

"You stopped. Keep going."

"Ugh... The newt... nuzzled in a... n-narrow... nook."

"Good."

"No, it's not, Crackers! I don't feel good..."

"You're fine, squawk! Try to distract yourself."

"Okay..." Opening one eye, he raised a shaky hand, lifting the end of the rope and making it snake through the air, though it shuddered all the while. It was a lot more difficult than usual... Normally he could lift several objects at once, and delighted the crew by juggling them. He felt like he should be able to do other things too, but what?

---

"Oh mercy! He's going to kill someone!"

"Caligosto, if you don't stop this at once, I will call your father!"

"So call him! I want him here! Why didn't he come with me?!"

"Oh no, he's trying to light the chair on fire—"

"Go get the earmuffs, now."

"MOM! DAD! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"GET THEM NOW!"

---

The sun was covered in clouds, and the humid air brought a promise of rain. Why were the other kids still here? Surely their parents would have called them home by now. He wished they would. Surely his mom would have called him, too, wouldn't she?

"Tell us another," one girl asked urgently, taking a hesitant step forward.

His head was swimming. "I-I don't wanna..."

"Tell us now."

Focusing, he managed to force his mind to concentrate. "She sniffed... and s-smelled... the stirring storm."

"Good, tell us another," one fish bubbled from the water.

A sharp pain like a broken tooth filled his skull, his insides felt sick, and the rain was beginning to fall. "I... I can't..."

"Tell us, Caligosto."

"B... Bernie read a book... b-by the... ba—babbling brook." He wanted to wipe the rain from his face, but he felt too exhausted to move his arms. "C-can I go... home..."

"Squawk! We're not to shore yet. Give me another."

He stared up at the blurred vision of the bird. "Why...?"

"Do as you're told."

"Th-the... hummingbirds... hovered... a-and hummed in... heavenly..." His voice broke off into a choked sob. "I wanna... no... I wanna... go home..."

"Caligosto?"

---

"I WANT TO GO HOME!"

"Get it on him, get it on—"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Where did he go?!"

"The monster's turned invisible!"

"I WANNA GO HOME!"

"There! Put it on right—there!"

"STOP, I WANNA—"

---

"...go home!"

He blinked.

"You are home, Cali," his mother said, beaming down at him with a wide, pearly-white grin.

"I am?" Blinking again, he looked around. Indeed, he was in front of his house, with his parents both standing on the front porch, as they had been when he'd left. On top of that, his head didn't hurt and he didn't feel sick. "I... I am!"

"You're all done with the doctors now," his father said, smiling. "We're so proud of you!"

"You... you are?" He stared open-mouthed; his father had never told him that before. "I'm all done?"

"Yes you are, dear." His mother knelt down, but he didn't come closer—something was making his hair stand on end. "Almost."

His stomach twisted.

"Just tell us another, son."

"N... no..."

The smile on his father's face faded. "Do as you're told, Caligosto."

"N-no... no, no..." He tried to shake his head, but couldn't. "I... I want to go home..."

The pain was coming back, spiking through his head, and he cried out.

"We're going to lose him—"

"No, just a little more."

"No," he sobbed. "No, no! Mom! Dad!"

The park was flooding. The fish were swirling around his head. Waves crashed over the boat.

He had to do something. Anything.

Focusing with everything he had left, he tried to think, tried to move something, tried to make something burn, tried to call for help—

Did—did you hear that?

Cali?

The agony peaked, and his vision turned orange.

---

"Ooooh... ugh..."

"Is this safe?"

"It's safe for us. The psilirium will keep him under control during the procedure."

"But can he still hear us?"

"Son, can you tell us one of your funny phrases?"

"Sure... grass grows greener in the graveyard."

"You see? He'll be fine."

---

There was no park.

There was no pond.

There was no ocean.

There were several doctors staring down at him, a great many more people seated in the theater behind them, and an empty feeling within him.

Something was gone. Something important.

"How do you feel, Caligosto?"

His brain was slow to work, and he could not form the words, but if he could have, he would have answered:

Like... a cavity.

[murderslugs]

Slasher Bf/Gf Scenarios/Imagines! || Meeting Them

Jason Voorhees (Friday The 13th)

You were out with friends, and it was getting awfully late. But still, there you were, with a flashlight and a backpack with a first-aid kit, some snacks, and water in it, just in case, walking through the abandoned camping trail with your friends. You guys had grown up in a town not too far away from the little old camp, and you’d heard all the stories that surrounded the place. For years you had just dismissed it, you all had passed it off as a local legend or rumor, but still there was a little spark of curiosity. Of course, this is what led you to where you reside now, exploring the camp in search of something peculiar, maybe a story to tell.

“Maybe we should go home...It’s late and I’m not feeling well..” your friend, Ruby, said wearily. It was true, you could see the illness in her dark, drooping eyelids. “Oh, bullshit! You’re fine, just drink some water and go throw up on a tree or something!” another friend yelled out. You just rolled your eyes. “Shut up! She doesn’t look too good, Otis! I think I should bring her back to the car to sit down.” You said with concern. To the dismay and groaning of the group, they let you and Ruby on your way back down the trail and to the car while they continued down the path. 

As you made your way to the car, Ruby fell close behind in your steps. Your flashlight flickered continually, and then suddenly gave out; leaving you two in the dark, and the pale moon barely illuminating through the trees above you. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, hitting the battery pack to the light repeatedly. “Stop, quiet,” Ruby whisper-shouted. That’s when you heard the rustling of the branches getting closer. Closer. Closer. “Maybe we shou…” You turn around, to see Ruby gone. 

“Ruby? Ruby?!” You shouted out, to no response. You turned frantically, searching for any sign of her presence. A large man in a ski mask and an old, ruined jacket stood before you, silent. Before you could turn to run or get around him, you felt a sudden pressure on the side of your head, and then you saw black.

Michael Myers (Halloween)

It was Halloween night, and you were home from college for fall break. Your mom insisted that you took your younger sister trick-or-treating, even though you refuted that she was 12 years old, and could handle herself. So, you just took her block to block instead and sat on the corner of the street for her to walk down to the other end and get to all the houses. It was a small town, so there were never really concerns about kidnapping and such. It was just never a problem, you guess. 

“Go, Riley. You’re a big kid, you can go down the street.” You groaned, tired of her constant whining. “But (y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn), It’s dark down there!! There’s not a street light at the end!!” she whined insistently. You sighed heavily and pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Here. You can use the flashlight on my phone, just don’t snoop through my info.” You told her, handing over the old smartphone, and pulling a pumpkin-shaped sucker from her trick-or-treat bag. “You owe me this.” 

You unwrapped the cheap candy and popped it into your mouth, leaning on the house fence as your sister skipped down the sidewalk. The leaves rustled in the trees, and suddenly you heard footsteps behind you, and whipped around to see who it was. It was on the quieter side of town, and it was getting late. This meant that there shouldn’t be many people out, so there shouldn’t be someone behind you. But still, you came face-to-chest with a tall man in a dark blue jump-suit type outfit, and a white mask. You panicked, and thought quickly about how to fight back. Unfortunately, he seemed to be faster than you, and your mouth was covered as you were picked up and carried off into the darkness, legs kicking uselessly. 

Carrie White (Carrie)

You were at the library when you saw a pale girl browsing through the young adult fantasy section. You observed her actions, as she readjusted her dress and collar. She carefully picked a book from the shelf and flipped it to the back to read the description. You saw a flash of the cover, and realized it was one of your favorite series, Chronicles of Narnia. You hesitated but stepped forward in a bit of excitement.

“That’s a good one, I, um, really recommend checking it out.” You told her with a smile, and she looked up, seemingly a bit taken aback. You realized this, and took a step back to give her space. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you...I’m (y/n).” You stuck out your hand, and she just looked down at it, book in hand. “Carrie...Sorry, mama never liked me talking to strangers…” “No, no, it’s okay, I underst-” “No, it’s okay...She’s been gone a while now.” She looked down. 

You stood awkwardly, feeling a bit bad now. “You seem kind enough. I’ve got to go, but we can talk again another time. I come here every Sunday, around noon.” Carrie said quietly, smiling softly and turning, taking Narnia with her. You sat to yourself, a bit confused about the interaction. You shook your head and carried on. “Next Sunday it is,” You thought to yourself.

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

There was a new girl at school, as you had heard. How could you not have when everyone was talking about it? She had moved here recently after some sort of tragedy occured, or so you’d heard. It was rumored that she had to have surgery cause someone tried to kill her, she was all stabbed up and shit and nearly bled out. You can’t imagine how awful that would be, and you kept thinking about how she probably came here for a new start, and wouldn’t want people asking about it, but you knew it would happen anyways.

It was 3rd period, Anatomy, when a girl you’d never seen before walked into the classroom. This, of course, must have been the new girl. She was absolutely glowing, even from afar. Her hair was voluminous, rich, and dark, her skin was clear and shiny, her eyes were sharp and bright. It took your breath away trying to take in the sight. The girl’s heels clicked as she trailed to the back of the classroom, to where you were. She sat beside you, at the lab table. 

You tried not to look at her, after all, you didn’t want to seem weird. You looked at the floor and over to her shoes. A few drips of a thick, crimson substance were on the floor beneath her, seemingly originating from her shoe. You wondered for a moment if she was hurt. Or, could she have hurt someone else..? It scared you a bit to think about the second option. God knows this school didn’t need another bully, or anything worse than it.

You were tranced, stuck in your own looming dark thoughts, when a velvet voice came to your ears. You snapped your glance up from the floor, to see the girl looking at you, specifically. To your dismay, blood rushed to your face out of embarrassment. “I’m Jennifer. Do you have a pen I can use?”

Billy Loomis (Scream)

You were in your brand new house, you had moved out and into the next town over from your parents. You wanted to be further away, but you knew that your mom would be upset, she was always so protective. She even said that she expected you to come visit her on the weekends. The relationship was a bit exhausting sometimes. But now, you were in your own house, and it was great. You could decorate it however you wanted, you could have whoever you wanted over, you could do basically whatever.

Though, for now, you decided to just make some off-brand pizza rolls and blare some music, maybe even dance around a little bit. Season Of The Witch by Donovan was playing on your stereo when suddenly your phone rang. You paused the music, and quickly answered. Normally, you would check the caller ID, but you were in a good mood and it completely slipped your mind. I mean, who cares if it's a scam caller? You can just hang up. To your surprise, it wasn’t a familiar voice, but didn’t seem to be a scam-caller. Maybe a wrong number? 

“Do you like scary movies?” The other line said. You were suspicious, and for a second you considered that maybe it was a survey. It didn’t seem to be a harmful question, so you replied, “Yeah, duh. If you don't, you're pretty lame.” You turned the music back on, but turned the volume down. He asked a few follow-up questions, and you gave your honest answers. You just strolled around the kitchen, occasionally checking the timer on your food so that it doesn’t burn. 

You had your phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder, and you had on oven mitts as you grabbed your pizza rolls from the oven. “What’s your name?” The caller suddenly asked. You paused for a second as you put the cooking sheet on the counter. “Why do you wanna know..” You asked cautiously. “Well, I wanna know the name of the cutie I’m looking at.” He said, and your heart damn near stopped. “Excuse me..?” You hung up and quickly ran to the doors, double-checking the locks and locking the windows and shutting the curtains. You grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer and locked yourself in your room, where you eventually fell asleep in the dark silence.

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

You had just moved out to the country-side to start anew, planning to start a small farm and just live in peace on the quiet little land. Little did you know, you had neighbors across the field that weren’t exactly the type of neighbors that you could ask for a cup of sugar. You were hanging the new drapes for the windows after having taken the old ones down. They were old, dirty, ragged. Honestly, the old farmhouse was sort of let to rot for a while, and you knew it. It was cheap though, and you were up to the challenge. You decided that you would decorate it, clean it up, and make it like brand new, even with the little money that you had. 

As you were hanging the drapes, you kept looking out into the distance of the rolling fields outside the window, littered with patches of wild flowers in the grass. You fantasized about making gardens, maybe even building a little stable for a horse or two. It was a lovely thought; there was a small village a little while away from the farm that you could ride a horse to if you wanted. 

Though, some distance away in the field, you saw the figure of what looked to be a man wandering in the field. You weren’t too worried, as you had all the locks in place, it was the middle of the day, and he looked peaceful. So, you just forgot about it and went on fixing up your house, unpacking, and getting the rest of the things in place. Although you had been there about a week, you still understandably weren’t completely unpacked. 

A few hours later, you were doing a bit of drawing on the couch and taking some time to relax. That’s when you heard a thud on your door. Just a single thud, that’s all. Still, you had reason to be concerned, as you were sort of in the middle of the country and it was starting to set into the evening. You quietly walked to your bedroom and grabbed a shotgun from the closet that you kept for protection, a tradition in your family. You carried it with you as you checked the door. You looked through the thin peephole, but saw nothing. You opened the door to find a paper stuck to the door by a rusty hatchet, buried deep into the oak. Your heart rate spiked as you tore the note from the door and read it. “Welcome to the neighborhood, pretty person” was spelled in crude handwriting.

[spacegoatart]

i haven’t officially posted my own treasure planet headcanons, so that's what this is! some of this might be ooc but i don't really care because they are fun to think about, so yeah, enjoy!

this is gonna be long so i’m gonna put it under a keep reading

it makes me so sad that they supposedly don’t keep in touch at the end of the movie, so that's where headcanons come in. Jim and Silver went thru WAY too much to not keep in touch, Silver couldn’t leave Morph without being able to see him again either (Silver literally refers to himself as Morphs ‘dad’ in one scene!!) they at least send letters or have some sort of burner phone, with Silver being a wanted criminal and all. for a while they probably just sent letters, Jim talking about the academy and Silver sending little gifts from his escapades such as a lava rock or an especially interesting coin. Jim keeps all the gifts in a box, along with the letters but if he feels especially attached to a gift, he’ll set it on his window sill of on the rim of his mirror. as much as I like the idea of Jim getting Silver a jitterbug/ladybug, realistically Silver would be the one to set the idea into motion. Jim gets a larger gift and its a little phone, made of parts that Silver could scrap together (or on he found in a shop on a traders planet), he immediately sets it up and texts Silver. it was really nice for them to talk in real time and were probably already discussing the idea, even though Silver could get caught, so Jim was really excited about it. Jim now keeps Silver updated on life events and Silver calls every now and then to tell Jim about his travels. Silver hasn’t quite figured out how to send photos but once he does, he starts sending some everyday (including some hilarious selfies, akin to what a dad would post on Facebook).

Silver absolutely visits, for a while it was very, very scarce because he was still wanted but was sneaky enough to come and see Jim every few months. he comes and hangs out at the inn for a few days while his crew is out at bars or stocking up on items for their next adventure, as well as they know better than to fight their captain on his decisions. during these visits, Silver tells Jim (and anyone brave enough to sit near them) stories about what he had seen, creatures he had encountered and wonders they had discovered. Jim tells Silver about his time at the academy, new friends he’s made and what he’s learning, including some complicated stuff. sometimes Jim even get so into it, he brings out a textbook to express his point. while Silver is pretty smart, he has no idea what Jim is talking about (because its usually math and obscure facts) and usually just smiles and nods as Jim rambles. (lol this may be me projecting my ADHD onto Jim but i have the feeling he info dumps to people hes comfortable with)

speaking of the academy, i think despite all the combat training and captaining that Jim is learning, i think Jim would be really interested in math. like a surprising amount. it would probably be difficult to start off but once he did, hoo boy he could not stop. there were some hurdles he had to face but eventually he landed in a pretty advanced math course (not the highest but still pretty up there, maybe like calculus or applied mathematics). knowing some math was important as a captain, having to deal with probability on a ship in the Etherium, but Jim was fascinated by numbers and the way they made up the world. i think he would be really interested in physics or theoretical stuff, which is difficult but i think he could do it. he probably uses his previous experiences in space to help him visualize the math, which helps a lot.

the first time Silver came to the inn, Jim practically tackled him. which was no big deal since he’s almost double Jim’s size, Silver was more worried about Sarah and what she thought of him being a pirate and all. Jim assured him that everything was ok and he asked her but Silver still felt a bit nervous. he felt like he was intruding on her territory. but while Jim had run upstairs for something and Silver stood sheepishly in the doorway, Sarah came over with a smile on her face and shook his hand. he wasn’t expecting that at all, he was more ready for a glare from the kitchen or even a talk about ground rules. Sarah talked to him about how excited Jim was (she was also kind of excited, she had met plenty of pirates and was almost as fascinated as Jim was) and how she was grateful for Silver staying in her sons life. Silver felt much more comfortable after that and they started talking too, (not sure if it would be romantic or not, it would be cute but i love them just being friends as well) they became pretty good friends. Jim loved it, even if they weren’t married or Silver wasn’t biologically related to him, he felt like he had a full family again. when Jim was busy or sleeping, Sarah and Silver would chat over coffee or in the kitchen while Sarah cooked, Silver helping. Sarah would probably rope Silver into helping her at the inn once she learns he can cook and he kind of falls into a routine. come see Jim, hang out, when Jim is busy/out, go put on an apron.

(this one is 100% projecting lol) this is a pretty loose hc, especially since it started as a joke but now i really like it. i think Jim, as well as Silver, is transgender. Jim wasn’t really expecting Silver to be trans, as are most (he passes super well lmao). i mean, many pirates were gay, why can’t space faring ones be trans? hell, Silvers crew probably has a slew of queer folk among them, if not all of them being some sort of LGBT. body modification looks like a regular thing in their world, so i think Silver has already had top surgery, whether he was planning to or not. by that i mean that i think Silver could have been injured, woke up and found that something was missing. worried he may have become more cyborg, he checked, winced and found that bandages had been bound around his chest. ‘well that's out of the way’. despite not wanting to be vulnerable around his crew, most of them if not all of them know he’s trans since most of them didn’t see it as some sort of weakness, it was just who you were. (if ya’ll are interested, i have some crew hcs like gender and sexuality but this post is mainly about Jim, Silver and Sarah)

(continuation of the trans hc) when Jim came out to Silver, there’s a moment of silence between them. in Jim’s head it was awkward, but in Silver’s, things started clicking. Jim was worried Silver didn’t understand and quickly explain but Silver comforted him, and explained that he understood. Jim was the confused one now and Silver quickly cleared that up, explaining that he too was trans. Jim was relieved, confused and surprised. he hadn’t expected that outcome but that wasn’t bad, if anything he thought it was cool. he had more in common with his adoptee-dad than he had thought. Silver now makes sure to emphasis his compliments when Jim is working, hoping to boost Jim’s ego and make him feel better. it works and Jim feels even more comfortable in his own skin. (i have another part about Silver taking Jim to get top surgery but they would need Sarah’s permission first, not that she’d say no but Silver doesn’t want to encounter her wrath xD)

i’d like to think that Silver takes Jim up on his ship, not for plundering but just to sail around. the new crew had already seen Silver in action and decided nobody wanted to question him about Jim, especially since he was causing any trouble. eventually Jim couldn’t really visit Silvers ship anymore, being a Navy officer and all but that was ok, Silver still came to the inn and Jim had his own ship/s.

Silver knows all the drama around town, mostly because Sarah hears it fro customers and then gossips to Silver about it. Silver will come in, say hello and she’ll start, he’ll probably respond with something like ‘no way, they did that?’ and then he’d listen as she worked.

when talking to Jim, Silver refers to Sarah as ‘ma’ and Sarah starts referring to Silver as ‘dad’ since they have become Jim’s collective parents, and it doesn’t bother either of them.

after Jim lets Silver get away at the end of the movie, Silver stays on his own for a while, though no one knew that. he got a larger boat, just big enough for him and he wandered planets, drifted through space, just thinking. he wasn’t sure what to do next, he was a wanted man but he also had no crew. the thought of settling down passed in his mind but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he was comfortable in the Etherium, he would get cabin fever after a week. so he continued being a pirate, it was rough work but he loved being among the stars, exploring the galaxy. Jim knew this and didn’t want to push Silver to stay at the inn for a long amount of time but they still made it work.

Silver has little experience with children, having none of his own until Jim (i’ve seen people give Silver children as his backstory but he doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy, not that he wouldn’t want kids but he’d have to choose between family life or pirates life. that's too much for him.) the most experience Silver had was with helping people at port and with his crew, anyone young enough to need guidance and smart enough to listen.

Silver loves music but really only know sea shanties, drinking songs and some old folk music, but he can still be found singing with his crew and humming while he’s working. Jim on the other hand listens to a lot of music, especially after treasure planet. (this is assuming they have all the music we have xD) he listened to brooding teenage music before, like Teenage Dirtbag or bands likes Greenday, but now he has a few shanties on his list as well, plus some classical music for when he’s studying or relaxing. he also listens to ABBA, either because he just likes them or because his mom plays them in the inn.

Jim, Sarah and Silver have way more pictures of each other now. the inn now has multiple family photos with Silver included, Jim has a framed image of the three of them and Silver has a little scrapbook. it’s the only thing he’s ok with having on his ship, still worried about being seen as ‘soft’ (even if he is a big softie and everyone knows it).

Silver usually wears a pretty simple working outfit with his nice coat and hat but when he does want to look nice, holy shit does he do it well. sometimes when he’s dressed up he wonders why he doesn’t do it more often just for fun but then he thinks of the countless times he’s had to throw out shirts stained with blood. he would never let that happen to his nice clothes.

i really like the idea that if things had been different, Sarah Hawkins would have been a pirate, and a damn good one at that. maybe she wasn’t in this life but that doesn’t stop the occasional daydream and questions to Silver about his lifestyle. he offers to take her on his boat when he takes Jim and she hesitates but says yes in the end. Jim definitely didn’t get his wanderlust spirit from Leland. (this is a little ooc for Silver but not for Sarah, i 100% believe she would be a pirate) maybe after Jim joins the Navy, he buys a small boat, big enough for him and his mom and they go on trips where they just enjoy the Etherium.

you cannot tell me that the second Silver was out of earshot on the long boat that he didn’t cry his eyes out. motherfucker may know how to hide his feelings but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them, he’s a sucker and he knows it. when he gets more comfortable around Jim and Sarah, he finds himself getting way more tearful from touchy feely stuff. Morph being cute? sobbing. Jim called him dad? waterworks. literally anything that tugs on his heartstrings? has to go to his cabin to cry his eyes out. the first time Jim and Silver met up again, they both just started sobbing.

Silver, Jim too probably, has PTSD (sorry if i get anything wrong, i’m not sure what else to call it) to an extent. it isn’t intense to the point that he gets overwhelmed with emotions and has flashbacks (unless it has to do with his missing limbs) but he does have some nightmares and prepares for the worst in most scenarios. Jim has to remind him that the bang at the door wasn’t pirates, it was just a unruly customer and that the silhouette he saw outside was just a passing ship, not canon fire. Silver apologizes every time, despite not doing anything but switch to his sword and brace but he can’t help but feel bad for worrying them. i can’t imagine the kind of terrors he has about loosing his limbs.

Silver, when he detaches his arm, will forget he only has one hand. sort of like that video with the astronaut back on Earth, but instead of gravity, he keeps handing stuff to his cyborg hand, dropping the item and they being confused when he can’t find whatever he had. he’s just so used to it by now, he’ll even gesture with his missing hand and not realize he can’t convey what he’s doing. Jim has been asked to hand his stuff, Silver will try to grab it without look and ask Jim why he didn’t hand it to him. Jim has to remind him that he doesn’t have his cyborg arm, leaving Silver apologizing. its always lighthearted between them and they joke about it but Jim knows Silver is still bothered by it a little.

[fan4196]

Happiness

Evermore

"- Ok, bye." Alex hangs up his phone after the probably weirdest call he ever had to take. This call makes him feel every kind of emotion mixed together into one big snowball of emotions - joy, happiness, excitement, but also regret, sadness, even anger and shame. Out of all of them shame is probably the strongest - shame that he again is the reason that another person has to suffer. He hates himself for always dragging other people down with him. That he's the reason they go crazy, get cancer, leave him or end up hurt. The last person he dragged down with him was the one person he never ever wanted to entangle into all of his problems, but she turned out to be the only person that was always more than willing to help him through all of his crap and loved him unconditionally with all his flaws.

He keeps looking down on his phone for a few more seconds, before he puts it down on the coffee table and buries his face in his hands.

"Who was that?" Izzie asks as she walks into the living room, a plate in her hand from the snack the twins just had in the kitchen.

"Jo." He answeres quietly, as he looks up again but avoiding Izzies look.

"As in your Ex-wife, Jo?" Izzie askes surprised, fiddling with the plate in her hand.

He nodds before he watches Izzie standing in the door between the kitchen and the living room.

"You should sit down." He suggests quietly, stroking his hand through his hair.

"Ok?!" She walks into the living room and sits down opposite of Alex, waiting for him to start.

"She- she's pregnant." Alex begins, not knowing how to continue, while a million thoughts run through his head.

"Ahm. Ok? Well good for her. That means she moved on rather quickly. That's good, right?" Izzie answeres, pretending to be happy for Alex's ex-wife, even though she has no idea why his ex felt the need to call him and rub this under his nose.

"No, Izzie. It's mine. I'm the father." He explains to the woman on the other side of the coffee table, "She said she had all the symptoms, so she took a test this morning and it was positiv. She also did a blood test at the hospital during her lunch break and it came back positive too. She also saw Doctor DeLuca, the OB/Gyn at Grey-Sloan, when she was done with her shift and had her first ultrasound - she's already thirteen weeks. She said she wasn't sure if she should call me but she wanted me to know - she wanted me to know that she's having my baby. And that it was up me if I want to be in their life or not. She has a whole damn village taking care of her, but she would never keep me away from my kid. She's due at the end of June and if I want to be there she would be ok with it. Her voice was so happy, you should have heard her. I always knew that she would be a great mom. She never believed me considering her past but I knew that her past only made her stronger and prepared her to be the best mom possible for our kids. And her laugh, I missed her laugh-" He stops after the last sentence he said.

He really tries to be as happy as he could for his kids - which he is, he's happy to be in their lives but nevertheless there's something missing. He knows that but he doesn't want to admit it. His kids should be enough to make him completely happy, right? But he's not, not entirely and he hates it. He hates that a piece of his heart is still in Seattle. He feels so selfish for wishing that she was here. That she was here with him. That she could meet his kids and that he could see his kid growing inside of her.

Just the thought of Jo with a cute little bump, that she hides under his shirts lets his heart flutter. Since the day he knew he wanted to spent the rest of his life with her he often found himself day dreaming about their future - about her lying next to him in bed, snuggled into his side while he paints circles on her big baby belly, calming the little one inside of her down so she could sleep after a long day of work. Something he was also almost one hundred percent sure of - that she would work until the day of her due date. He could see himself getting pulled out of a surgery because she went into labor while she was in an OR herself. He had already painted everything out but now everything is different - completely different.

It's silent in the living room. Izzie's not saying a word. Noticeably shocked, not knowing what to say right now.

"Are you sure?" She asks the first thing that comes to her mind.

"What?"

"Are you really sure it's yours?" She clarifies her question, a little annoyed because he wasn't listening.

"Are you serious?" He can't believe that she really asks this right now. "Of course I'm sure. She's thirteen weeks along, I'm here since ten weeks. Even if it wouldn't add up, I believe Jo if she says that I'm the father-"

"What if she's lying? Maybe she's further or fewer along than she says. Maybe she cheated on you and now tries to tell you that it's yours just to get you back into her life. Or she's not pregnant at all. What if this is just a trick to get you back?" Izzie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Ok stop right there. What the hell, Izzie?" He replies angrily, ruffly pushing himself up from the couch. "I will not listen to all of this crap. What the hell? I will also not accept you talking bad about Jo. Hell no!" He's about to walk out of the living room, not wanting to hear any more of the crap Izzie has to say.

"But-"

"NO, IZZIE THERE IS NO BUT. FOR ONCE THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU. THIS IS ABOUT ME. MY LIFE. MY JO. MY KID. THIS HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, SO YOU HAVE NO SAYING IN THIS." He screams angrily, letting everything out that he had bottled up inside of himself for so long.

"Of course it has something to do with me. It means I'm losing you to her."

"Oh my God. It's exactly like that one time I thought Rebecca was pregnant with my child. Back then you also tried to talk everything bad. And even though Rebecca's pregnancy was fake, Jo's isn't. Jo's pregnancy is real and if you like it or not I will support her. I will be there for my kid, no matter what you say. Because she's pregnant with my child and I will be the father that kid deserves, because Jo made me that kind of guy. Also Jo would never lie to me about something like that. She's not like that; she knows how much I would give for every single one of my children." He pauses for a moment, when he realizes something.

"Alex- It's just- I'm afraid that I'm losing you now that I just have you back." She answers with tears in her eyes.

"Izzie you are not losing me, because you never had me. I came here for one reason and one reason only - my kids. If it would have only been you I would have never left my wife because you told me so many times that I'm not good enough for you. I tried so hard to be good enough for you - I changed so much and pretend to be someone I'm not, but it was never enough for you. And now that you had my kids you want me back? Now all of my flaws don't bother you? No. You only want me because you have no one else and that's no one's fault but your own. Jo on the other side always wanted me exactly how I was. She never changed me, she never tried to, she never told me that I'm not good enough for her. No, she always told me that I'm too good for her. She accepted me like I am. She respects me so much that she puts my needs before hers. God, she told me to stay here to be with my kids, other than begging me to come back home to her. She's freaking pregnant with my child, she would have every right to tell me to get my ass back home, but she doesn't. She wants me to do what's best for me. She loved me enough to let me go and live with my kids instead or her and my baby."

It's silent again. No one's saying a word for a minute.

"So you are staying?" Izzie asks, breaking through the awkward silence.

Alex is not answering, everything he would say now wouldn’t be nice. So he storms out of the house into the frontyard, where his kids are playing. He sits down on the porch step and watches his kids, when he hears the notification noise of his phone, he pulls it out of his back pocket and looks down on it. It's a message from Jo, which he immediately opens and his heart skips a beat as soon as he sees the picture in front of him - an ultrasound picture with Jos neatly handwriting underneath: Someone wants to say 'hi'.

He can't but smile.

"Daddy, what are you smiling about?" His daughter asks as she sits down beside Alex on the steps, a little out of breath from running around in the frontyard.

"Nothing, Alexis." He answers with a smile, locking his phone while he puts a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"But I want to know, daddy. I wanna smile too." She begs, looking at him with her big puppy dog eyes.

"Well- I told you about Jo once, right?" He asks, getting a nod from his daughter.

"Yes, she looks just like Bell from Beauty and the Beast." She answeres.

"She called me today and told me that she is having a baby. And that makes me really happy." He explains, unlocking his phone and turning it towards Alexis. "Look she send me this picture of the baby. It's still very little, you almost can't see it. It's still in her tummy, that's why the picture looks like this, it's an ultrasound picture." He tells his daughter child appropriate so she understands everything.

"We should visit her, daddy." Alexis tells him simply still looking at the picture on his phone.

"But the baby isn't born yet. It will be in Jo's tummy for another six months." He replies.

"I don't mean the baby, daddy. I mean Jo. She makes you happy and I like that." His five year old says, smiling at her dad.

"If it would be that easy, Alexis." He sighs, putting one arm around his daughter, holding her tight while she tips on his handy.

"It is easy, daddy. We go to the airport, get into the right plane and fly to her. And then you are as happy as you were here." She points towards Alex phone, the picture of their ferry boat wedding showing.

-

@thejolexgroupchat

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[moonbeambucky]

Turn Back Time

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2617 Warnings: fluff, embarrassing moments

Summary: Theo's embarrassing mistake makes his parents wish they could turn back time.

A/N: We're skipping ahead to the future! This takes place in October 2039 and yes this is another Theo-centric drabble but it's fine because we love him. There are more mentions of The Price of Astrophile universe collab with Allie so don't forget to read Astrophile if you haven't already. Thank you to my love @all1e23​ for beta reading 🍕❤️

It’s quiet in the house, silent mostly apart from the gentle hum of the washing machine that fills the background as your eyes gaze over the pages of the sturdy book that rests in your lap. Your focus is interrupted every now and then when Cashew lets out a deep snore you’re surprised hasn’t woken him.

He’s curled up beside you on the couch with his head resting against your thigh. The book can wait so you’ve set it off to the side, rubbing your palm in long, gentle strokes along his body. It’s hard not to notice how he doesn’t climb up as easily as he used to. You vividly recall the day you adopted him and it’s hard to believe that was thirteen years ago but just like Cashew isn’t a puppy anymore, your kids aren’t children. 

Ariel is living in New York and though you knew this was coming for a long time you still miss her every day. It made sense for her to be there with more opportunities in dance. She was loving every moment training at the American Ballet Theatre.

New York had offered more than just dance, Ariel’s heart had been there ever since she met Ollie. You understood the difficulties of a long distance relationship, having done so with Lance for a while. It still amazed you though how dedicated they were to each other despite their age. Their friends enjoyed the convenience of being face to face while Ariel and Ollie spent more time having “dates” over FaceTime until they were able to see each other in person again.

Now you’re the one that has to FaceTime her, thankful that no matter how exhausted she was after a long day of dancing she always has time to speak to her parents. Lance knew the rigorous training she was going through, reminiscent of his own Olympic training. “You don’t have to call us every night,” he would tell her and while Ariel knew she didn’t have to, she could see passed the smile on his face knowing how much her Dad misses his Starfish. If a few minutes a day made her parents happy she would give that and more without question.

Seeing her over the phone was good but in person was even better and last weekend you were able to do that. It was her twentieth birthday and you and Lance flew up to celebrate. It didn’t matter that you last saw her two months ago, both of you hugged her like it’s been forever.

She was more than settled in at the Barnes’ house and you couldn’t thank them enough as they offered to have Ariel stay with them. You were certain Cassie had a lot of influence on their decision, emphatically telling them all the reasons why Ariel should live there.

Truthfully she didn’t have a lot of convincing to do. You and Lance were as close to the Barnes’ as Ariel and Cassie. You had a long discussion with them and they kindly offered Orion’s old bedroom. She had been living in the apartment above their bookstore for the last few years so they did have the space. Plus they considered Ariel family and they wanted to make sure she was safe as she navigated life in a new city. 

It was sad that Theo couldn’t make it and no one was more disappointed than him. He would use any opportunity to see his friends in New York and it killed him to have to miss this trip. Theo was training to become a lifeguard and his classes were every Saturday; missing even one would disqualify him from the program. 

He was able to FaceTime as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Ariel, watching her blow out the candles on the cake Cassie made for her. The phone was passed around so Theo could say goodbye to everyone, heat forming on his cheeks when Ori told him how much he was missed. His smile curbed just a bit when Leo grabbed the phone and teased that he wasn’t missed that much.

Theo was only alone for a few days and while some seventeen year olds with a house to themself might throw a party Theo was focused on practicing. He stayed long after class was over to continue swimming laps in the Olympic size pool. With his test coming up he needed to practice as much as he could.

The sound of the door shutting puts a smile on your face. Before he even announces himself you know it’s Theo, you can tell by the way he shuffles inside, dropping off his bag near the front closet like he always does.

Cashew slowly lifts his head up as Theo plops down on the couch. “Hey mom,” he said quickly, smiling at Cashew who slowly got up to turn and face Theo.

“You’re home early. I thought you’d be practicing some more.” 

He looked up from Cashew to answer you, still giving the good old dog scratches behind his ears. “They had some private lessons so I couldn’t stay. Did you have lunch yet? I’m gonna make something before I get into our pool, unless you needed it?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face knowing Theo had grown into a kind and considerate young man; not that you expected anything else. You and Lance worked hard raising him and Ariel with manners and to treat everyone with respect

“I ate already, thank you Pumpkin.” Theo dropped his head to Cashew as fond embarrassment came over him at the sound of his nickname. “And the pool is all yours though I do wish you would take it easy. You’re sure you haven’t been pushing your knee too much?”

His shorts are bunched just above the scar from the ACL surgery he had earlier this year and the injury, although common, was devastating to Theo. He loved being active so bringing all of his activities to an immediate halt hurt more than the pop felt in his knee. He was eager to get back into everything which made you worry. Then again, as his mother you would always worry about him.

“I feel good, trust me Mom.” Theo reassured you with a smile. He got up from the couch and stopped to plant a kiss on your cheek before heading to the kitchen. You helped Cashew down, his nails tapping slowly against the floors as he followed Theo, hopeful and waiting for some food to drop.

As you were folding laundry you didn’t expect Theo to be there, startling you enough that a pair of folded socks went flying out of your hands. He laughed as he went to pick it up, snickering still as he asked, “Do you know where the Bluetooth speaker is? Mine broke.”

Pursed lips held feigned anger for Theo laughing at you but you couldn’t keep it up. “It might still be in the garage from the last time Ariel was home.” 

“Thanks,” he said, tossing the rolled up socks your way. He turned on his heels before backtracking, flashing a smile as bright and white as the freshly folded towel he took from the pile, throwing it over his bare shoulder.

Theo was ready to swim again, and not long after you heard music blasting from the backyard. Your pool wasn’t large enough to accurately practice the timed laps he needed to complete for certification but he was able to work on other things, like perfect all of his strokes and practice retrieving a diving brick from the bottom of the pool. It was a little awkward and Theo supposes that grabbing a person will feel just as foreign. Then again he’s kind of done it before.

Last year when his friends from New York came to visit everyone was helping Ariel pack up things for her move. Ollie even brought an extra suitcase so he could bring back some things in advance to ease the trip she would have to make the following month. As her best friend Cassie was at her side, holding the list Ariel made and rightfully ignoring it as she pointed at random things in the room to see if it was something Ariel wanted to take. (And no Cassie, there was no need for Ariel to take the pink bowling pin from her seventh birthday party with her to New York.)

Leo was doing his best to help, at Cassie’s insistence. He would much rather be hanging out with Theo who is much luckier than him for not having to help pack up. His eyes shifted to the open door, hoping the sound of the person coming up the stairs was Theo, or Ori even. It was a good thing Ariel’s room didn’t face the backyard because Leo would have been running outside if he got a look at what was going on.

Theo can’t escape the memory of the day he taught Ori how to swim. Somehow he was lucky enough to be alone with her, without Leo’s disapproving stare weighing him down. His own nerves were doing that for him but he pushed them aside as much as he could.

Ori was embarrassed, thinking she was too old to be learning how to swim at twenty-three. Her makeshift doggy paddle was enough to fool others into thinking she simply preferred the shallow end to stay near her younger siblings when they were little. 

The truth was the deep end was unpredictable. There were too many what-ifs and if Ori could not solidly control a situation then she simply wouldn’t go for it. But things didn’t seem as scary with Theo there. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, honesty swirling in the reflection of the water below them; or his smile, with kindness pouring out from the soft pull of his lips. There was no need to feel shame and with Theo she never had a reason to. 

It was one of the best days of his life, not only because of the time he was able to spend with her but because Ori trusted him. He kept her safe and taught her as much as he could before the sky decided to open up on them. 

Every time he gets in his pool those memories wash over him. Theo can’t help the heat that creeps on his cheeks, a minor distraction he tries to shake off so he could continue practicing. But when he remembers her scent, fresh lavender that’s soft and pretty just like Ori, it has him swimming through the clouds. 

It was hard not to think about Ori, she’s been on his mind ever since they met. He was a child then with a big crush on that pretty girl with the big smile and gorgeous eyes; but with every passing year his feelings have grown and Theo knows deep down in his heart there's a reason why he can't shake this crush. His mind drifts with hope for the future. 

Eventually he was able to focus, staying out there until long after Lance got home. Dinner was quick and you and Lance could see how much Theo had pushed himself all day. He was exhausted, unable to control his yawning in between chewing his food. The sun had barely begun to set when he said goodnight to you both.

The rest of the night was spent in bed, cuddling up with Lance as you watched a movie hearing the gentle patter of rain against the windows. Cashew was resting at the end of the bed, surprising you when he lifted his head up at the sound of the toilet flushing down the hall. 

“Good boy Cashew,” you cooed, leaning forward to pat his head, “You heard Theo, good boy!” It was nice, for a moment, to believe Cashew wasn't as old as he really was.

You settled back against Lance, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. His hand rubbed up and down your arm gently, reaching down to squeeze a handful of your bottom.

As you lifted your head up towards him, Lance’s growing smirk told you that Cashew might have to temporarily move to his bed on the floor. He leaned in to capture your lips, your need for him growing deeper until everything came to a record scratching halt. 

“Mmmm just like that baby.” 

You pulled away, puzzled by the foreign sound of a woman whose pornographic moans grew louder and louder.

“What the fuck? Where is that coming from?”

Both of your phones were on the nightstand untouched and the movie was still playing so it was unlikely that the remote had been accidentally touched. Lance chuckled as he sat back against the headboard, wishing you would get back in bed so he could pull those same sounds from you.

You scanned your bedroom following the lewd sounds until you stopped dead in your tracks. On the bathroom counter your eyes widened in horror, staring at the sleek Bluetooth speaker, the same device Theo was using earlier. Lance must have taken it back inside before the storm.

Your feet carried you in a hurry, jumping back in bed in a frenzy, disturbing poor Cashew as you buried your face in the pillow.

“What?” Lance asked, first with a laugh which faded into concern as you shook your head, muttering a slew of “no’s” into the fabric. “Y/N what’s wrong?”

Your head turned to the side, peeking one eye open at Lance who couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“It’s… Theo.” Your face cringed as you said his name. “He must have been too tired before to disconnect his phone from the speaker…” 

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line realizing he would have to handle this embarrassing situation since there was no way you could. 

It wasn’t that Theo wasn’t open with you. He never shied away from bringing Amber over the house, asking for your advice on sweet things he could do for her especially when they got back together but there were some things he definitely felt more comfortable talking about with his Dad. 

Lance let out a heavy breath, closing the door behind him so you didn’t have to hear that awkward conversation.

“Cashew help me!” you pleaded, patting the spot on the mattress next to you for him to cuddle.

He plopped down beside you, licking your face as you gently pet him. The moans abruptly stopped and you felt some relief though a bit of sadness lingered. Although Theo would always be your pumpkin he was no longer a little boy. 

“Theo’s all grown up now huh Cashew?” His head tilted slowly, a reminder that he too was all grown. As the door creaked open you lifted your head to Lance, hesitantly asking, “Everything good?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small laugh, “Yeah... he’ll be fine.” 

Getting back into bed, Lance adjusted his position since Cashew had taken up a good portion of the middle. With Ariel in New York and Theo graduating next year it made you both realize just how much time had passed and because of that Lance didn’t take it personal when you snuggled with Cashew instead of him. He threw his arm over both of you, flashing that same smile that spoke the words he didn’t need to say. 

You were both feeling the same thing, the yearning of wanting to turn back time and not let your babies (and puppy) grow up as fast as they did. Or at the very least, remind Theo to disconnect his phone from the speaker!