#but yeah i realized that the reason i dont like most flannels (or button downs in general for that matter) is because theyre womens

[i-like-gay-books]

after working as a sales associate at a secondhand store for about two months now, i have come to the carefully constructed conclusion that even though “boyfriend fit” flannels for women exist, men’s flannels are almost always just better

[princesuna]

you come out of suna’s bathroom after changing into your indoor clothes and his brain almost short circuits at the sight of you. you come out wearing a loose flannel that’s way too big for you with only one button closed in the middle with your sleeves rolled up and grey shorts. his face heats up a bit and doesn’t realize he’s staring until clap your hands in front of his face.

“oi rin! did my beauty turn you into stone?” you quip with a giggle.

“you wish. button up more or you’ll catch a cold,” he retorts.

“but it’s still summer! and i feel so comfortable right- hey!” you pout as suna stands in front of you closing most of the buttons on your shirt. when he’s satisfied with his work, he pulls you towards him by your shirt to give you a quick kiss.

“you’re gonna drive me insane. where did you get this shirt anyways? it’s so big even i could wear it,” he asks. 

suna thinks he knows what most of your clothes look like, but this seems to be a new piece to your collection. his mind shoots him with the intrusive thought that it was from another guy, but he quickly dismisses the thought because he has seen you in oversized clothing before. you have a huge green flannel in your closet similar to the one you’re wearing now. there’s no way this shirt could ever be from an ex or someone you’re cheating on him with.

right?

are you that bold to wear something like that around him? suna isn’t sure why he’s starting to doubt you. you both love each other very much. he feels very secure in this relationship, but for some reason, he can’t shake the possibility from his mind.

“i found it while i was shopping at forever 21. it was just randomly sitting on a rack and i thought it was totally my style so i bought it.” you reply.

you didn’t show any signs of hesitation while answering him and suna can tell when you’re lying. you’re so god awful at it he would spot it in the blink of an eye. he flushes the intrusive thought out until you speak up again.

“now that you mention it, this might fit you perfectly! try this on, i wanna see you in it,” you urge.

“ah i dont think it will fit, sweetheart. besides, this isn’t my style,” he objects.

“no! you’re trying it on right now. i’ll be right back,” you say and disappear into the bathroom again before he has the chance to argue back.

you come out in a t-shirt while holding the shirt in your hand. you push the shirt into suna’s arms and force him into the bathroom.

your boyfriend shakes his head at your shenanigans, but he is grateful because now is the perfect time for him to put the intrusive thought to rest. he puts the shirt on and when he’s buttoning it, he begins to feel uneasy. the way he buttons this shirt is exactly how he buttons his dress shirts for press conferences. suna examines the shirt closely and his suspicions are confirmed. this is a men’s shirt. the buttons are on the right. buttoned shirts for women are always on the left. he knows this fact because he had to wear his mom’s dress shirt for a high school banquet one time because he stained his the day before.

suna tries not to jump to conclusions because he trusts you. he didn’t sense any hint of deceptiveness in your reply to him. he tries to calm himself down before walking out of the room in the shirt.

“babe, you know this is a men’s shirt, right?” he asks stepping out of the room.

“really? how can you tell? i remember picking it up in the women’s section,” you questioned.

“for men’s shirts, buttons are on the right. buttons are on the left for women’s shirts,” your boyfriend explains.

“oh my god! so that’s why it felt so weird to button up the shirt! i thought maybe it was just a style thing. that makes much more sense!” you exclaim.

your reaction seems genuine and he feels bad for doubting you, even if it’s just for a second. you love him so much, how could you ever cheat on him?

“yeah. if i didn’t know any better i would’ve thought this came from another guy,” he joked. 

“rin, don’t tell me got jealous over a shirt.”

“i’m not!” he disputed, but his voice gave him away.

“sure, the high pitch tone in your voice is telling. did you really think this belonged to another guy? you’re so funny. i love you and only you,” you go over and stand on your tippy toes to give him a peck on his cheek.

“i just don’t wanna lose you to anyone,” he mumbled while pulling you into his arms.

you manage to catch what he said and smile. you admire every feature on his face while playing with his hair. you’re lucky to have him. then, a thought pops into your head.

“rin, how did you know the difference between the dress shirts?”

“i’m leaving,” he pulls away and vanishes into the bedroom.

“hey! come back!” you yell chasing after him.

you couldn’t waterboard that story out of him.

[ghostboybabies]

little ghost boy || [JATP Agere/CGLRE]- “Roses and Little Princes” (Chapter 7)

Reggie was woken up the next morning by a soft voice, pulling him out of his dreams. He was going to protest getting up, before he suddenly remembered the events of the night prior.

He sat up, dropping the stuffed bear that had been in his arms. It fell on the blanket next to him. "Whoa, calm down Reg! You're okay, I promise." Julie spoke, settling her hand on his shoulder. She sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"I'm so sorry about last night." Reggie began his anxious rambling despite her reassurance. "I was being a brat for no reason and I kept crying-"

"Reggie." Julie took over a tone not unlike the stern one used to get him to listen when he was small. Reggie went quiet, looking at Julie with a somewhat nervous look.

"You don't have to defend yourself, or apologize for anything. I'm not mad at you." She spoke in a sure, definite voice. Reggie seemed hesitant to believe her, but he nodded.

"Thank you." Reggie decided on his next words after a moment, giving Julie a small smile.

"For what?" She questioned, though she was fairly sure that she knew the answer.

"For dealing with me."

"Anytime." Julie paused, before speaking again. "I wanted to talk to you, about a few things. Is that alright with you?"

Reggie nodded slowly, looking a little anxious about whatever she was going to bring up. "First of all, Luke is distracting Alex right now, so if you wanna be little, you can."

Reggie chose nodding over verbal confirmation, so Julie continued speaking. "I guess I'll get straight to the point. How do you feel about telling Alex about all this?"

There was a pause, and Julie thought that maybe she shouldn't of brought it up. But just when she was going to let him know that he didn't have to answer, Reggie replied.

"I'm not completely against it," Reggie admitted, speaking up with a voice full of hesitancy. "It's still scary though. But I feel like he'd get it, he deals with anxiety too...worse then me really. I feel like he'd be glad I found a way to deal with it."

Reggie sounded hopeful, but also worried. "I think you're right. And no one said that you have to tell him now, Luke and I just thought we'd bring it up now so that you could think about it."

"Was there anything else?" Reggie questioned after a beat of silence.

"Hmm?" Julie hummed, seemingly confused.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about a few things." Reggie elaborated. Julie remembered the other thing she wanted to bring up.

"Oh! Yeah..um, I wanted to ask about the whole 'mama' thing..." Julie trailed off for a moment while Reggie's face went red, and he immediately avoided looking at her face. "There's nothing wrong with you calling me that! If I was uncomfortable with it, I'd tell you. I just wanted to know why, I guess. Is that something that's normal for littles?"

Reggie let out a light sigh of relief. Julie wasn't judging him, she was just curious. She didn't seemed concerned. Or angry...just curious. "Um..kinda? I'm sorry that I called you that without like, talking to you about it first." He apologized.

Julie shook her head. "If its something that makes you feel more comfortable in your headspace, I don't mind it." she repeated.

Reggie kept going. "Yeah. Some regressors have people that take care of them, like caregivers. And they might call them some variation of mom or dad because they play a parent role...and I guess little me recognizes you as 'the nice lady who cares for me' and it just kinda..slipped out a few times."

Julie only smiled, seemingly touched by that. "I'm glad you feel safe around me. I don't care if you wanna call me that, I just wanted to know why. That's all I wanted to talk about."

Reggie smiled a bit, feeling a lot less awkward. "Okay, cool. What are Luke and Alex doing?" He immediately found a way to change the subject, and Julie didn't seem to catch on, replying to his question.

"They're at the beach with Willie, I think. Alex mentioned wanting us to get to know Willie and Luke thought it'd be the perfect way to get him out of the house, because you seemed pretty worried that you wouldn't be able to regress." Julie explained.

Reggie frowned, and Julie interrupted his thoughts before he even got the chance to speak. "Don't apologize for misbehaving again. You wanted to stay up because you wanted to be little, you were upset reasonably. No ones mad at you."

Reggie shut up quickly, nodding in affirmation. Julie sounded so authoritative most of the time, always seeming as if she was right in what she said. She could say the craziest thing in that tone and Reggie would probably agree without questioning it.

"Anyways, I think it's time to get up. You slept in pretty late," Julie stood up, holding her hand out. Reggie took it, allowing her to pull him out of bed with no protest. He picked up the bear before straightening up, hugging it to his chest.

He noticed that Julie was looking at him, so he lowered the bear as if 'correcting' his actions. As if carrying the bear was wrong and he wasn't supposed to be doing it. He had a light pout on his face. Julie quickly jumped to reassure him.

"You're okay! I don't care if you carry the bear...you just don't do stuff like that when you're big. So I was wondering if you were feeling small," she explained, looking at Reggie expectedly.

"Am I allowed to?" Reggie asked, tilting his head and looking at her with curious and innocent eyes. He was slipping fast.

He didn't even really understand why. Being around Julie or Luke always made him feel a little small. They were so protective of him, caring and sweet. Always willing to give up time to take care of him. Reggie felt pretty bad about that sometimes, he felt like he took to much of their time.

"Of course you are, you can be little whenever you need to."

"B-but I dont need to be little right now," Reggie pouted, hugging the bear to his chest again. "I wanna be little. Should be big."

"No, baby." Julie correct him quickly, stopping his pouty rambling. "You're allowed to be tiny because you want to. You don't have to limit your headspace to when you're stressed, regressing for fun is completely okay."

Reggie hummed, nodding a bit. Julie could tell he wasn't completely little, but he wasn't far from it. "We should get you dressed in something soft. Don't you get uncomfortable in jeans after wearing them for so long?" Julie asked.

Reggie shrugged, bringing his thumb up to his lip. "Hmm. Well, how about we look at some of my clothes? If you don't find anything you like, you can stay in your clothes." She compromised.

Reggie nodded, following Julie's lead, walking over to her closet with her. "Do you see anything you like, Reg?"

Reggie settled his thumb into his mouth, his eyes glancing around the closet. His eyes paused on a solid red t-shirt, with Winnie the Pooh on it. He had never seen Julie wear it before, but he immediately wanted it.

He pointed to it silently, bouncing on his feet. "You want the Winnie shirt?" Julie smiled lightly, pulling it off of the rack and holding it up to him. While Reggie was taller then her, their clothing sizes didn't seem to be far apart. The shirt was cropped too, but Reggie didn't seem to care.

"Winnie! Cute bear," Reggie said simply. "Watch it wif Luke." He explained.

"Really? Maybe we could watch it later," Reggie smiled at that, seemingly excited at the possibility of that. "Only if you're really good today." Julie decided, tapping the button of his nose with the pointer finger of her free hand. She walked over and set the shirt on the bed, before going back to the closet.

She started rummaging through it, so focused on finding some suitable pants for the boy that she didn't notice him slip away from his spot next to her. It wasn't until she heard his frustrated toddler voice sound behind her that she realized.

"Juwie!" he whined, his shirt stuck part way over his torso. He had discarded his flannel on Julie's bed, and was trying to pull his black shirt off of him. "Hewp!" he requested,  Julie noticing the little frustrated huff he let out. This childish anger was the same thing that led him to his little temper tantrum the night before.

"I'm coming, baby!" Julie chuckled, coming over to him and instructing that he held his arms up. In no time, Julie got the shirt over his head, and it was discarded on the bed with the other article of clothing.

Reggie's face was painted with a little angry pout that amused Julie. He seemed to come to his senses, and that pout faded into a smile. "T'ank you!" he cheered.

"You're welcome, darling. But, you could've waited for me to help you in the first place," Julie said. Reggie seemed confused, shaking his head.

"Always do things m'self!"

"You don't have to, though. It's okay to ask for help," Julie told him, picking up the character shirt and pulling it over Reggie's head. He pushed his arms through their holes and pulled the shirt down. "You look so cute, Reggie!" Julie complimented, patting his head softly. Reggie blushed, biting his lip.

"Thanks." he mumbled, looking down at himself.

"Did you want to change pants, or were you just planning on stealing my shirt?" Julie questioned, crossing her arms.

"Stealing da shirt, das it." Reggie giggled, picking up the bear from where he had left it on the bed. Julie chuckled, shaking her head a bit.

"You're a silly baby, Reg."

"Siwwy," Reggie giggled again, bouncing on his feet. "Baby?" he pointed to himself after a moment, seemingly asking a question.

"Yeah, you're a baby. A very cute one at that," Julie tapped the button of his nose again, and Reggie face broke out into a smile.

Being reminded that he was, in fact, a baby, without any judgement, make him feel like it was okay to be that way. It made him feel smaller.

"Can I play now?" Reggie asked, holding the bear in his arms tight and looking up at Julie pleadingly.

Julie nodded. Seeing him so innocent, just wanting to play and cuddle, it was different. It made her happy to know that something as cute as this childish getaway helped him cope. And she wanted to help where she could.

"What do you wanna do, Little Prince?"

The new nickname slipped out of her mouth without any hesitation. It had popped in her head and she impulsively decided that it felt right. For a split second, Julie thought about taking it back.

But the moment she saw Reggie's shy smile, and the excited look on his face as he went to ramble about his options for playtime, she realized that the nickname made him happy.

It was like how Luke called him 'Little Rockstar' sometimes. Julie never called him that, it was something for Luke and Luke only. Something special for just them.

This was something special for him and Julie.

--

"Mama, da bear is red...like a rose!" Reggie looked at the stuffed toy in his lap. He was currently sitting on the ground in a criss-cross position, with Julie's laptop in front of him. As promised, Julie had put of Winnie the Pooh for them to watch together.

Julie nodded, "Yeah, like a rose." she hummed, pausing before continuing. "Roses are pretty flowers, don't ya' think?"

Reggie seemed confused as to why she was asking this, but he nodded firmly. He leaned his back against Julie's bed behind him. Julie didn't know why Reggie had wanted to sit on the ground instead of her bed, but she let him. He seemed comfortable just sitting on the fluffy rug, a soft blanket of Julie's pulled around his shoulders.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because roses are just like you!" Julie spoke in a playful tone that communicated that what she was saying was absolutely obvious. Reggie's eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head, his lips forming a light pout.

He didn't like not understanding things! It made him feel like a baby. Not in the good way either...he just felt stupid. Julie smiled, leaning closer to him and speaking in a quiet voice, as if her words were a secret. "You're a pretty flower." She spoke in a teasing voice, knowing the compliment would embarrass him.

He was just so cute when he got all shy.

Reggie took a second to register, but his face went red. He pulled the stuffed bear from his lap, lifting it up so that his face was covered. "Awe, don't hide from me, Flower!" Julie pulled a fake sad face, reaching forward to pull Reggie's arms (and therefore, the stuffed animal) down.

"You're mean, mama!" Reggie whined, turning his head so that he was looking away from Julie. Julie knew he didn't mean it, but she gasped.

"I'm mean for calling you pretty?"

Reggie hummed in affirmation, keeping a firm pout on his face. "How so, Reg?" Julie watched as he looked back at her, quickly jumping into the babyish logic behind claiming that she was mean.

He didn't seem to be able to come up with anything, though. He just pouted, huffing in frustration. "Mean!" he exclaimed.

"I think you're just pouty because I made you blushhh," Julie teased. Reggie continued to pout, scrunching up his nose. Julie considered continuing to push the teasing, but she figured that she'd eventually actually annoy him. If his angry pout meant anything, it seemed that she wasn't far from it.

She didn't want a grumpy little on her hands.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, baby." julie noticed that Reggie was actually paying attention to the cartoon again, wrapping her arm around him. Reggie leaned into her side, mumbling out a few words.

"It's okay, mama."

Those words made Julie smile. Over the past few weeks, Julie had been getting to know Little Reggie, while Luke, Julie, and Reggie became more closer overall. Reggie regressed quite a bit during this period, because it was the first time in his life where he felt safe too.

He had two amazing friends to go to, to take care of him. They didn't care if he regressed every other day, or if he was a handful to deal with. They were so supportive of this vulnerable, childlike part of himself. Because they cared about him.

Because they loved him.

And soon enough, Alex would meet Little Reggie too. The only question was, would he be as supportive as Luke and Julie were about it?

Reggie would find out come the time.

But 'the time', was sooner then anyone expected.

--

A/N:  Let me know if you liked this chapter! I kinda got caught up in Julie and Reggie's dynamic but I will return to the actual plot (kinda) in the next chapter!

[all-hail-the-witcher]

questionable government spies: chapter 11

ANY AND ALL PREVIOUS PARTS UNDER #SPY BOYS OR ON THE MASTERLIST

_________

here we goooOOOOOO

okay so alot goes down in this please try not to get too mad

its all for a reason I promise

twitch knows said reason and her general reaction was “fuck”

also I tried very very hard to make it accurate I spent literally I think like 3 months googling stuff for this

extra thanks to twitch for the evil planning

also fizz helped, hi fizz, she like made everything worse so if you have a problem go complain to her

I mean you can complain to me too but like her also

anyway lets do this

also  im not really sure how to tag these warnings so if you've got any questions before you read please shoot me a message/ask whatever you want

_______

ship: eventual sprace, platonic ralbert, spromeo, fittons, jack tries to flirt with Kath and it fails

warnings: post insane traumatic injury (??) I dont wanna give it away so if you have a question please message me !!, mention of an explosion, pain, both emotional and physical, physical disability, mentions of a previous bad relationship 

editing: I think so theres been alot of different versions but im fairly certain it all lines up

words: significant amount

_______

Albert was about ready to yeet himself of a bridge, as Race would say. At least, he thought that that was what Race would say. Maybe he was using yeet in the wrong context…. Anyway, Albert was just done with listening to Jack trying to flirt with Katherine.

This was the first day that his and Jack’s schedule had overlapped with Katherine’s. Of course it had to be today, the day after the mission. As if Albert didn’t have enough of a headache from the night before.

Maybe it would be more tolerable if Race were working with them, Albert thought as he moved himself all the way down to the opposite side of the counter, away from Jack. But, Race wasn’t allowed to work with them because he might flood the kitchen again.

“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple.”

Albert let out a loud groan and nearly smacked his head into the counter, beside him Romeo let out a laugh.

“What’s the matter, Al?” He asked teasingly. “Ya don’t like it when people flirt? Ya live with Race for crying out loud!”

Albert sighed, picking his head up off the counter. “No, I just don’t like it when Jack flirts. He’s not subtle, and he uses the most obnoxious pick up lines. At least Race is a little more chill with it.” He thought back to the terrible snow puns from the night before. “Well, most of the time.”

“Well, he did learn from the best,” Romeo bragged and Albert gave him a sideways look. “What? I am a master at flirting! See, I’ll prove it to you. I bet I can make the next person who walks through that door blush.”

Albert rolled his eyes. “Be my guest.”

The next person to walk through the door happened to be Buttons. Albert choked out a laugh. Romeo made a face but still delivered his pickup line.

“Hey Buttons!” He called. “Is your name google? Cause you’re everything I’ve been searching for.”

Buttons made a disinterested face and Albert dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Ro, didn’t we say no more flirting with the customers?” Buttons asked as he moved around some of the chairs at a table close to the counter.

“But you’re not a customer, you’re an employee,” Romeo pointed out as he began to help a customer.

“All the more reason not to flirt with me,” Buttons stressed. “Besides, don't you have a boyfriend?”

“Specs thinks it’s funny when I flirt with other people,” Romeo pouted.

“I find that hard to believe.” Buttons finished moving around the chairs and walked back towards the door.

“What’s he doing?” Albert asked Romeo as he prepared a drink for a customer.

Romeo glanced up. “Oh, he’s bringing Finch in. He must have been discharged yesterday after his surgery.”

“His what?” Albert was confused. Jacobs had mentioned that Finch was recovering from some sort of attack by the gang, but that had been 6 months ago. Surely he was doing better now…

“Oh, did no one tell you about Finch?” Romeo asked, pausing to call out an order.

“No…?” Albert said. “Well, Jacobs mentioned that he had gotten injured on the YMONY case and was recovering but that’s it.”

“Recovering isn’t the word I’d use,” Romeo said. “He’s had a rough time.”

“What do you mean?” Albert asked uncertainly.

“You’ll see,” Romeo waved him off as the door opened again, revealing Buttons pushing Finch in a wheelchair.

“Hey Finch!” Romeo greeted as Buttons parked his chair at a table next to the counter. “How’ve ya been?”

“Pretty good,” Finch responded.

Buttons rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He’s been in constant pain for the last week.” He leaned down to kiss Finch gently on the lips. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Have one of the guys come back and grab me if you need anything.”

Finch nodded and waved to Buttons as he walked toward the kitchen. Then he looked up at the counter and noticed Albert for the first time.

“Albert Dasilva! I haven’t seen you in years!” He exclaimed, taking in his friend. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah it’s been awhile,” Albert agreed, leaning across the counter and surveying Finch's appearance. He was wearing an old blue flannel shirt and sweatpants. The right sleeve of his shirt was rolled up to his bicep, revealing the fact that he was missing most of his right arm. Fastened securely on top of his shirt, around his lower abdomen, was a white brace that appeared to extend all the way down his left leg under his sweatpants. There was heavy bandaging and most likely a brace encasing his right lower leg. The chair was tilted back slightly and both foot rests were raised to support his presumably injured legs.

“Are you and Race still partners?” Finch asked as Albert rung someone up at the register.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re still partners,” Albert felt himself smile at the mention of Race. “We’ve started training a kid. Jack!” Albert called across the counter to Jack, who was still trying to miserably flirt with Katherine.

Jack wandered over, looking a little disappointed that he was being called away from his crush. “What is it?”

Albert gestured to Finch. “Jack, this is Finch Cortes. Race and I were friends with him in training. He’s partners with Buttons, and they were training Katherine.” Then he turned to Finch. “Finch, this is Jack Kelly. Race and I have been training him for about a year.”

“Hi,” Jack said, clearly anxious to get back to Katherine.

“You’re so lucky that Race and Albert are training you,” Finch told him. “They’re two of the best field agents I’ve ever seen. Well,” he paused, laughing slightly, “except for that time where they almost blew up the weapons lab.”

Jack stamped his foot in frustration. “How is it that everyone knows about that except me?”

“It’s just one of those things you had to experience for yourself to truly appreciate it,” Romeo sighed, staring off into the distance comically. “I will never forget the look on Jacobs’s face when he told us why it was off limits.”

Albert and Finch began to laugh and Jack stomped back down behind the counter toward Katherine.

“Al, when’s your break?” Finch asked after the laughter had subsided. “I wanna catch up.”

Albert glanced up at the clock. “I can take it now, actually, one second.” He ducked back into the kitchen to hang up his apron and returned moments later, pulling up a chair at the table Finch was sitting next to.

“So,” Finch began. “What brings you and Race back here? I thought Race didn’t want anything to do with this city.”

Albert laughed a little. “Well, Jacobs assigned us a case, and he thinks that we’re going to fail, so Race wants to prove him wrong.”

“What case?” Finch asked. “Or are you not allowed to say?”

“No, no, I can say,” Albert said. He took a deep breath. He was still hoping against hope that Finch hadn’t gotten injured on the YMONY case, even though he knew he had. “Race and I were tasked with bringing YMONY down,” he said.

Finch’s face darkened for a brief second before he responded. “I didn’t realize that someone else was getting assigned to that,” he said.

“Apparently no one was supposed to,” Albert said. “But they got some sort of coded message and Jacobs hates us, so he figured hey why not put them on, if they go missing or die then at least I’ll be rid of them.”

Finch smiled briefly. “Buttons and I were on that case. They’re a dangerous group, as you can see.” He gestured to himself with his left hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Albert began hesitantly, “what happened? Just so I know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Finch assured him. “Well, it all started with the Big Bang….which was of course me hitting the floor.”

From the counter, Romeo let out a loud groan and Albert suppressed a laugh. He was glad Finch’s current situation had not affected his personality.

“I was at a warehouse with Buttons and Katherine,” he continued. “We knew that it was a point of contact for the gang and I wanted to scout the area. Buttons and Katherine were around the corner in the car on comms with the cameras and schematics pulled up. I was up on one of the ledges when an explosion went off, shoving me off and down about 10 feet. Then another explosion went off. I don’t remember anything after that but apparently part of the warehouse started falling apart. They told me a steel beam fell on me.”

Albert was at a loss for words. “Oh my god,” he whispered. And I let Race go undercover in that gang. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“You want the laundry list of stuff?” Finch asked, although he didn’t seem annoyed. “Then you can decide for yourself.”

“Um, sure,” Albert said.

“Well, my arm got blown off in the explosion,” he began, gesturing to his stump, just above where his elbow should have been. “I have a prosthetic, but I don’t like wearing it because it’s not the permanent one and it’s uncomfortable.” He paused. “When I fell off the ledge I landed on my back, which caused a dislocated hip and a T9 spinal fracture.”

“You’re not- you’re not paralyzed are you?” Albert stammered.

“Hold your horses, Al,” Finch smiled. “I’m getting there.” He paused, remembering where he had left off. “The beam that landed on me broke my left femur into 5 pieces, broke my left knee cap, and shattered my right lower leg. The beam also caused severe damage to my left femoral nerve which they think might have resulted in a degree of permanent femoral nerve dysfunction. And the shattered bones in my lower right leg completely severed my peroneal nerve, causing probably permanent peroneal nerve palsy. Also, the damage to my spinal cord resulted in incomplete paraplegia.”

Albert stared at him. “English please?”

Finch laughed. “I’m paralyzed from about here,” he pointed to several inches above his belly button, “down. But, since the injury was incomplete, my brain can still send some signals. I have about 50% feeling still from my hips down. In terms of movement, my left leg and hip are more immobile than my right, at least that’s what the doctors speculated, they won’t know for sure until my legs heal. Plus, all of the damage to the nerves in my legs kinda complicates things a little. But, I do have pretty good control of my abdominal muscles, about 75% of what it was and relatively no loss of feeling there so that’s good.”

“So, you are paralyzed?” Albert asked.

“Yes,” Finch said. “Both incomplete T9 paraplegia, and bilateral peripheral neuropathy.”

“Are you going to be able to walk again?” Albert stared at his friend with concern and sympathy.

Finch shrugged. “No one's really sure yet. Depends on how well everything heals and what my range of motion ends up being. I had surgery about a week ago on my right leg,” he pointed to the bandages encasing his right lower leg. “It was meant to relieve some of the pressure and hopefully give me a little movement. I have a scan next week to see how my left knee, leg and hip are healing and if they’re good I’ve got a chance of walking again. But, they have already told me that it will be difficult. Even if everything does heal properly, because of the severe nerve damage and spinal paralysis, I’ll still need braces, probably an HKAFO and forearm crutches or a walker which could be difficult considering….” he trailed off, gesturing to his missing arm.

“What’s an HK whatever it was?” Albert asked.

Finch shifted slightly, his face contorting with pain. He pointed to the brace around his lower back. “This is an HKAFO. It’s a brace that goes around your torso and hip area and then down your thigh, knee, ankle and foot. The one I’m wearing right now only goes around my left leg. Once it’s decided whether or not walking is in the question, another leg brace will get attached around my right leg. It’s kind of like an exoskeleton.”

Albert looked at his friend, letting all of that information sink in. Finch was paralyzed. Finch might never walk again. Finch had been injured while on the same case he had Race were on. “Dude, I am so sorry,” he finally said.

Finch brushed off his apology. “Why? Wasn’t your fault and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

“I can help bring down the people who did it,” Albert reminded him.

Finch laughed, which Albert found odd considering the situation. “I’m sure you guys will. But I’m not one for revenge. Besides,” he smirked at Albert, “this is just a side effect of being a field agent.”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure they don’t cover amputation and paralysis in the orientation,” Romeo called from the counter.

Finch rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah. But I willingly signed up for this, I knew getting severely injured or dying was a possibility.”

Yeah, Albert thought. A possibility we all would like to forget exists.

“Besides,” Finch added. “I’m not dead, so that’s a plus.”

Albert stared at him in disbelief. “You’re missing half of your right arm and you can’t walk. How is any of this good?”

“Well for starters, I still have my left arm.” He waved it around for emphasis. “And I can get around just fine in a wheelchair. Plus I have a fantastic boyfriend to take care of me. The worst thing about all of this is that I can’t use my slingshot anymore.”

“I don’t understand how you’re so positive about all of this,” Albert said.

“Facing death makes you appreciate life, Albert,” Finch said. It would have been poetic if he didn’t sound so sarcastic.

Albert shrugged. He knew Finch was right, but he couldn’t stop picturing Race in his place. He didn’t think he could go through that.

Finch opened his mouth to say something, but then closed his eyes and scrunched up his face in pain. His breathing was loud and quick.

“Finch?” Albert said immediately, jumping out of his chair. “Finch what's wrong?”

“Get Buttons,” he said through clenched teeth. “And ice.”

Albert didn’t have to be told twice. He ran into the kitchen, skidding to a stop next to Buttons who was working at the grill.

Albert clamped a hand onto Buttons’s shoulder. “Finch needs you,” he said and Buttons’s eyes widened as he began to turn. “Look like he’s in pain. He asked for ice.”

“Okay,” Buttons said, calling over to one of the other workers in the kitchen and abandoning his station. He ran to the freezer and filled a bag with crushed ice before darting through the doors, Albert following close behind.

Finch was exactly where Albert left him. If he hadn’t been, Albert would have been worried. Buttons pulled up a chair directly in front of of Finch’s chair and gently lifted his right leg into his lap. He rolled up Finch’s sweatpants to the knee, revealing a brace around his lower leg and foot and thick bandaging. Then he pressed the ice bag to his boyfriends mangled leg.

A pleased sigh escaped Finch’s lips and he opened his eyes to look at Buttons. “Thanks babe,” he said.

“Of course,” Buttons responded. “Everything else okay?”

Finch nodded.

Buttons turned to Albert. “What kind of lies has he been telling you?”

“I didn’t tell him any lies!” Finch protested. “I told him what happened.”

Buttons rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I bet you left out the part where you died for three minutes, and the part where they almost had to amputate not one but both of your legs, and the fact that you were in the ICU for almost a month before you were stable enough to be moved, and the part where you can barely sleep through the night without screaming in pain.”

“I was unconscious for most of those things,” Finch protested. “And I’m here now, so what does all that really matter?”

Buttons looked at Albert. “Is Race ever this stubborn about injuries?”

Albert considered for a moment. “Race isn’t usually the one who gets injured. That’s my job.”

Buttons sighed. “Consider yourself lucky.”

Albert thought back to the previous night’s events and how his efforts had gone to waste. He thought about how his hands had been shaking last night when he went to purchase Race’s advil. He thought about Race leaning into him last night as he guided him gently down the hall to their apartment. “Yeah,” he whispered, mostly to himself, “real lucky.”

Finch lifted his head and looked at Albert quizzically as if he were about to say something when Medda burst out of the back room calling his name.

“Albert!” she sang. “Would you be a dear and play these lovely customers some of your music?”

Albert smiled. “Of course Miss Medda.” He stood and began walking back towards the break room to grab his guitar. When he came back, Medda was talking to Finch about his condition.

“You feeling any better, baby?”

“A little bit,” Finch said as Albert began to tune his guitar. “Still a lot of pain, but we’re getting there.”

“That’s good, honey.”

Buttons adjusted the ice bag as Al plucked the E string. Finch winced slightly and Buttons picked up his hand and began to rub gentle circles into it with his thumb.

Guitar finally tuned, Albert moved toward the wood stove in the far corner of the coffee shop to begin playing. Medda usually had him play around 10 songs at a time.

He played a variety of slow indie coffee shop-esque songs and came down to the last one. He plucked a daw strings absently as he tried to decide what to play. His mind wandered for a few seconds before he decided.

He began to strum the opening chords before he sang.

“He’s watching the taxi driver he pulls away. He’s been locked up inside his apartment a hundred days. He says ‘yeah he’s still coming, just a little bit late, got stuck at the five and dime saving the day.’ He just watching the clouds roll by and they spell his name, like Lois Lane. But still he smiles, oh the way he smiles.”

Across the shop, Finch caught his eye, looking as if he were deep in thought.

“He’s talking to angels, counting the stars, making a wish on passing cars. He’s dancing with strangers, falling apart, waiting for Superman to pick him up in his arms, in his arms.”

Crap, Albert thought. He knows.

•••

Albert arrived back at his and Race’s apartment around 2 pm since he had had the morning shift at the coffee shop.

“Race?” He called out softly, hanging up his jacket and leaning up his skateboard against the wall. Apparently Oscar gave anyone involved in a heist the next day off so they could rest, sleep, tend to their wounds, etc. Since Race wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, Albert assumed he might be napping.

He walked quietly down the hall to Race’s room and peeked inside. Sure enough, there was Race, curled up in an oversized sweatshirt and athletic pants, dozing gently on the bed.

Albert smiled and walked into the room, sitting down next to Race and pulling the throw blanket he kept at the end of the bed on top of him.

A few minutes later, Race began to stir. “Hey Albie,” he yawned, stretching slightly. “How was work?”

“It was okay,” Albert said, remembering Finch.

Race made a face, shifting to rest his head on Albert’s leg. “Your tone of voice and facial expression says otherwise,” he mumbled sleepily.

Albert laughed. Race could read him far too well. “Buttons brought Finch in today.”

“Oh, how is he? He was hurt on our case right?” Race had closed his eyes again.

“It’s bad, Race,” Albert whispered. “He lost most of his right arm, and he’s paralyzed. All those terms he told me….” Albert trailed off, thinking about all the medical shit Finch had told him. “There’s a good chance he won’t be able to walk again, Racer. And I just kept thinking, what if something like that happened to you?”

Race cracked open his eyes, staring up at his worried best friend and gently taking his hand. “I’m fine, Albie, there’s no need to worry about me,” Race reassured. “Last night went fine, I’m just a little beat up is all. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Are you sure hun?” Albert let the pet name slip out accidentally and he winced. He only called Race that when he was worried about him. But after last night, he had reason to be.

Race’s expression softened and he placed his hand on Albert’s leg. “Hey, hey. I’m okay,” he whispered.

“I know, I just,” Albert sighed, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Race snorted. “Says the person who has more scars than freckles.”

Albert rolled his eyes.

“I’ve danced my whole life, Albie,” Race reminded him. “I have a crazy ability to overcome minor physical injury.”

Albert sighed again, lacing his fingers though Races. After a few minutes Race spoke up. “Lay down with me?” he whined.

“Of course.” Albert stretched out next to Race, looping his arm around his chest, relishing in the physical contact that proved that Race was, in fact, okay. At least for now.

_________

im sorry but it had to be done

if you have any questions about finch please ask hes gonna be around for awhile

there was a version where he died but were Done With That

also that song Albert was singing was waiting for superman by daughtry

again sorry

but also not

ALSO AMPUTATING FINCHS ARM WAS FIZZ’S IDEA NOT MINE I TAKE NO CREDIT SHE WANTED HIM TO “not be able to shoot his slingshot anymore”

huuuuuu

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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