#dndads fic

[hermanunworthy]

The Avenger

After the mascot costume prank doesn't go over well at Chaparral, Hermie reluctantly retreats back to Teen High... but finds that they've been replaced. By a Marvel fan. Who is now flirting with Normal. ...Time for a little justice.

ITS FINALLY HERE YALL. as some of u may know, me and @apricior have continued to work together and wrote another collab fic bc well. were insane. this one was actually thought of back in september while iftga was still in progress, and then we started actually writing it in december! i really hope u enjoy this one, it was SOOOO fun to work on an oc together and to write such a lengthy story!!

85k words, 16 chapters + epilogue, oakworthy, oc x canon, no doodler no magic au, alternating pov (kai as hermie, me as normal this time!)

read on ao3!

[apricior]

The Avenger

After the mascot costume prank doesn't go over well at Chaparral, Hermie reluctantly retreats back to Teen High... but finds that they've been replaced. By a Marvel fan. Who is now flirting with Normal. Time for a little justice.

[read on ao3]

GUYS. IT'S FINALLY HERE. @hermanunworthy and i have been having brainworms about this since literally september, and after starting it in december and spending three months writing like insane people we finally finished it. and here it is! almost 80k words of gay people being stupid!!!

i'm super proud of this work, and i hope you all enjoy it because it was so fun to work on <3

[cosmiado]

what if i said. 12k hurt/comfort post-canon oakworthy where Hermie's a zombie. what would you even do

[risetherivermoon]

---

Trudy was once a woman. A real woman. Trudy Douglas had aspirations, opinions, ideas, a high school diploma. She liked to dance and had a warm smile. Her hair was red like a flame, her pale skin scattered with freckles like stars. She had beautiful green eyes…or maybe they were blue? Blue, yes they were blue. She had beautiful blue eyes, the color of the summer sky. Her lips were a nice red color, plump and pretty looking. She was a gentle soul, a small thing.

Tucker Trout had met her directly after high school. Trudy was a waitress at a diner down the road in Peachyville. It was an early morning…or it might have been later, or perhaps it wasn't even day at all. But she was humming and dancing along to the jukebox in the corner and Tucker had been working hard on an invention the whole night before. Or maybe day. She had been sweet, a nice smile and cutesy voice, he learned her name because it was printed on her name tag. Trudy.

---

heres that trout family angst oneshot i promisedddd

i adore trudy so much

[tech-sapphy]

the dndads brainworms won’t let me go and i’ve been listening to a lot of broadway these past few days while thinking about dndads. a dangerous mix for my emotions. that means i Had to write some fic (marloakworthy you’re canon and real to me)

also i hc hermie as genderfluid. so here’s a thing i wrote on a whim

-

Makeup is, generally speaking, something that Hermie is more than used to. Stage makeup was always necessary, after all, and so that was what they were used to doing.

It’s also why, when he, Normal, and Scary got ready for their date night, Hermie was thrown for a bit of a loop seeing how she did her makeup.

He watched her relax as she did it, even as she was explaining it to them. She opted for a pink eyeshadow, using some black eyeshadow at the creases of her lids and blending it down to make it all a little darker, giving it an ombré effect. She also started to add extra wings to her eyeliner, smiling as she did. It already looked good, but she liked it.

Hermie admired how she did it to express herself rather than a role.

Neither he or Normal could stop staring at her. She was clearly basking in the attention, but he didn’t care.

Normal was the first to speak up. “…Can you do some for me?”

His eyes were wide, soft, with hope. No doubt an excuse to get close - which Scary probably clocked, by her smile and eye roll.

“Whatever floats your boat, Norm.”

Luckily, she had colors more than black - so Normal’s look was one with some brighter blues and greens, and she gave him some eyeliner too, at his request, with less of a sharp wing than her own. Her hand cradled each of his un-made up cheeks as she worked, and Normal leaned into it.

It was sickeningly cute.

Hermie’s heart leapt in joy, seeing them be so sweet. It was also beating, fast.

He admired them and he wanted to be close to them too, but he knew his heart beating was partially him wanting to be on that makeup chair.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s dedicated to doing the right makeup for his roles…but he doesn’t have one right now, and he still finds that he wants to do some makeup anyways.

Maybe it could help him find who ‘Hermie’ really was.

“What do you think, Hermie??” Normal reaches out to him, grabbing a hand. Hermie holds it in return, planting a kiss on the back of it.

“You’re radiant.” Normal blushes.

As Hermie sets Normal’s hand down, he can’t help but glance down at the makeup still set out on the counter. Some colors catch his eye. He looks to Scary, who he finds is smiling at them. She almost looks away, but Hermie is inclined to ask his question before she does.

“Well well well, we can’t go out on a date together if we’re not all matching. Scary, if you would be so kind…”

Hermie picks up a compacted container of eyeshadow, one that caught his eye earlier. A dark purple.

Scary groans, but is all smiles. Maybe she’s trying to hide it, maybe not, but Hermie can tell she’s more than happy to do it. Especially since she quickly reaches for a tube by the sink.

“You guys are so cute. You need primer first, otherwise it’s gonna stain or it’s not gonna stay. And it’d be suuuuch a tragedy if it didn’t stay.”

Indeed it would be, Scary. Indeed it would.

—

For how much of a powerhouse Scary has proven herself to be, Hermie understands why Normal leaned so close into her touch.

She’s incredibly gentle as she holds his face. He admires her range.

He also enjoys the feeling of the makeup. The eye primer was cold - but the brush it was blended with was firm, warming it up quickly.

Then there was the eyeshadow. Hermie kept tapping at his knees, in rhythm to the music that was playing softly from Scary’s phone speaker.

He closed his eyes as Scary raised the brush from the compact, covered in purple. He also leaned into the hand on his chin, just a little- he didn’t want to mess up the angle too badly. But he was right across from the mirror, so he couldn’t quite help…

“Wow, you’re really good at this, Scary!” Normal exclaims.

“Yeah, well, it might be easier if you stop trying to open your eyes, Hermie.”

“Sorry, sorry, my dear. Shouldn’t try and get a glance before your masterpiece is complete, I know.”

Normal laughed and Scary huffed at the nickname, her bangs blowing up as she did.

“You’re lucky the eyeshadow is done, but we still need some eyeliner. Close your eyes, you dork.”

Affectionate as could be.

He’s glancing down at the liners she has laid out - there are two. Both are black, but one is liquid and one is a pencil.

Both she and Normal had liquid eyeliner. He wanted to match with them, right?

So he doesn’t quite know why he reaches for the pencil. But he does, and hands it to her. She looks a little surprised, but not opposed.

“Oh, sure.”

“Oooh, good choice, Hermie! I think that’ll look good with the eyeshadow! Y’know, since it’s a bit darker!” Normal points out.

Hermie closes his eyes as he replies, “Of course. As you know, I have impeccable taste in style.”

Scary snorts.

“Oh, how you wound me, Scary.” He responds, leaning into the hand on his cheek.

The pencil felt weird. Not bad, just different. Not quite as smooth, but not bad. Eventually, Scary’s hands left his face.

He opened his eyes to look in the mirror, but Normal turned the swivel chair around before he could.

“Normal, what are you doing?”

“Can’t look at the masterpiece before the artist is done, remember?” He grins.

Hermie sighs, just as Scary - also grinning - is applying some bits of blush to his cheeks. He probably won’t need it tonight, knowing his reactions to his partners doing so much as holding his hand (as much as he tries to hide it), but he doesn’t protest.

She then holds out some tubes to him. Lipstick and lip gloss.

“Want any?”

He’s… he’s only ever worn it for his roles. Only ever red, bright enough to be befitting of The Joker and Poison Ivy.

Looking at the labels on the tubes, there’s one that is bright red. He’s about to reach out to point to it when he sees it - it’s almost second nature.

But before he can gesture to it, Scary pulls them away, looking through them.

“Not all of these would look right with your eyes, though.” She picks through a few of them, Hermie hears her set some down on the counter. Over his shoulder, he sees Normal point to a couple tubes, but he can’t see what colors they are.

“Good eye, Norm.”

They both turn back to him, each holding a tube. Both matte, one of them is a dark blue that almost looks black and the other is a nude pink. It's one he recognizes as a color his co-stars often used in their stage makeup, a shade that wasn't too noticeable.

“Wanna do half and half?” Normal suggests.

“It’d look metal as hell.” Scary points out.

He likes that idea. He really likes that idea. So much that he almost wants to cry. He nods, and immediately looks up just a little bit.

To stop himself from ruining the makeup? So that they don’t see?

Either way, both happen as Normal and Scary each apply a color on his lips at the same time.

“No, wait, stop there Norm-“

“But hear me out, we could also do a different pattern!”

“No, we’re not going to do that.“

Hermie is tempted to laugh, but refrains, so as to not mess anything up. Their bickering makes him feel… comfortable. Content.

At home.

He’s never really known what that felt like. His characters never did, either. So he really has no frame of reference, nothing more than observations of his friends with their families.

But he suspects that this new feeling, of contentment and of his mind Not racing with thoughts and clever lines - just needing to do what he wants rather than live up to some expectation or role -

That might be what home feels like. He's not sure, but it's enough for him.

“Okay, ready for the final reveal??” Normal and Scary both hold one of his hands after they turn the chair to face the mirror.

He opens his eyes.

He looks different. So different.

The eyeshadow and lipstick are darker and give a bit of a shadowed look. The pencil eyeliner makes his eyes look softer than his partners’.

Both of whom are blushing. Normal squeezes his hand.

“You’re so beautiful, Hermie!”

“Like midnight.” Scary whispers.

Beautiful. Like midnight.

Beautiful. Beautiful.

It’s so… feminine. Hermie feels feminine.

He loves it.

Tears are welling up in his eyes, and he tries to look up, but a tear slips down his cheek. His partners swoop in at the same time.

“Oh no- what’s wrong Hermie?” Normal wraps his arms around him.

“Oh shit, what’s wrong? Do you not like it?” Scary squeezes his hand, running a thumb over his wrist.

She doesn’t even care that her hard work is at risk. She just cares about his feelings.

He’s overcome with adoration, at their reactions and at his reflection. It’s why his usual quick wit is completely out of commission, and he can only respond with a few words.

“I love it.”

He gets up and maneuvers around them, to bring them both into a hug. They’re both quick to return the hug, wrapping their arms around him. He can feel their hands link on his back. Normal leans into the crook of Hermie’s shoulder, and Scary’s drawing little circles on his shoulder blades. It’s reassuring, it’s grounding.

They had plans for tonight, but Hermie doesn’t want to let go.

For once in a life riddled with shit luck, Hermie feels like they’ve hit the jackpot.

[cookies-over-yonder]

right there where you left it, lying upside down

The teens spend some time resting and recovering at the Oak-Swallows-Garcia household.

It's been days, and Taylor hasn't said a word.

[title from everything stays from adventure time]

for @cookies-over-yonder (yes, me. i wrote this for me. fuck.)

ao3

“How—how are you guys? I—I—I’m… I’m—I’m not fine… but—but I’m… just…”

Normal sucks in a breath and swipes at his tears. Sparrow squeezes his shoulder. There’s fresh burn scars scattered across his body, but his eyes are open, and he’s breathing, and he’s alive, and stable—physically anyway—and that’s really all she could ask for. It’s been days. She doesn’t know how many. She doesn’t think anyone does. Lark isn’t happy, and neither is she. The kids need to rest.

And one of them is dead .

A backyard burial without their own parents. Lark thought it was unnecessary and that they were just losing time. Sparrow thinks he’s the only one who didn’t cry.

“I’m, uh… I guess I’m okay, Norm,” Scary answers, still holding his hand like it's his last lifeline. Sparrow isn’t sure she’s let go at all, or if she ever will.

Her voice is shaking like her hands, and her eyes are wide. No tears now, but her face is red from the way there were earlier.

She spares a quick glance to Link before bringing her gaze back to Normal, and then to the Doodler— Dood , lying in Normal’s lap. Asleep? Can it sleep?

She’s been pressed up against Normal nonstop, leaning on him, laying on him, like an eldritch weighted blanket.

“Yeah, same,” Link says, though the way he’s been anxiously wringing his hands together for the past few hours says otherwise. It… reminds Sparrow a little of Grant. The anxious mannerisms, the inflections of his voice, it’s… he’s left an imprint. For sure.

“Taylor?” Normal asks, glancing over at the kid half in his sleeping bag, half sitting up against the wall with a pillow wrapped in his arms.

And there’s nothing but silence.

At first, Sparrow thinks he’s asleep, but through the darkness there’s the faint glow of his sclera. A trait Sparrow knew well from Nicky. The demonic glow seems to have passed down, reflected in little Taylor. Normal’s spare clothes seem to fit him a lot nicer than the other two, probably since he’s quite short in stature.

“Taylor?” Link echoes. They’re all looking at him now, and still, he doesn’t say a word.

Link reaches out a hand and taps Taylor’s ankle.

He’s awake, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. His breathing is slow and steady, but still, he’s not responding.

…

Come to think of it, Taylor’s quite chatty, and yet Sparrow isn’t sure he’s spoken since they got inside the FBI’s headquarters.

He hasn’t said a word since Hermie…

Oh, Taylor…

The others glance at each other worriedly. Sparrow puts up a hand when she sees them start to move closer to him—crowding wouldn’t be the best idea.

Instead, Sparrow lets herself leave Normal’s side only for a moment, and she crawls over to him. Taylor’s eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape, revealing the point of a fang. His lips are horribly chapped and bloody—some of that blood looks fresh.

“Taylor,” Sparrow says so low it could almost be a whisper, lifting a hand to his shoulder, before placing it down slowly for little chance of startling him. “Can you hear me?”

Taylor blinks and continues staring off.

Sparrow thinks she might cry again. Had he been dissociating this whole time and she hadn’t noticed?

She squeezes Taylor’s shoulder and starts to run her hand up and down Taylor’s arm.

“Hey, okay, just listen to me, hon. I know it’s really scary, but you’re safe right now. I need you to try and focus on me.”

Taylor still shows no sign of acknowledgement.

“What’s wrong with him?” Scary asks, matching Sparrow’s volume.

“He’s just in shock,” she answers, though she’s not sure what she can do anymore. Grounding techniques… many used and many forgotten…

“Lincoln, could… you get me an ice pack from the freezer?”

He nods, and he’s off immediately.

Here’s to hoping that’ll work, she thinks, carefully prying Taylor’s hands away from the pillow and holding them in her own.

Link returns swiftly with the ice pack and she takes it, lets go of Taylor briefly to wrap it inside a loose pillowcase, and places it in his hands, holding the backs of them steady, making sure he can feel the ice.

It’s something that worked for Lark growing up, she remembers. Something about strong physical sensations pulling you out of your head and back to the present.

Taylor’s gaze breaks away from whatever distant spot it was locked on, and he’s looking at their hands and the ice. That’s good. This is good.

“Can you feel that, Taylor?” she asks.

“‘S cold…” he mumbles, his voice so small, so fragile, she almost can’t hear it.

“It is. Keep focusing on it, okay?”

Taylor closes his eyes, and his hands start to shake. Sparrow suspects it isn’t purely from the cold.

Especially when it spreads. Anxious trembles running across his body. After a while, he speaks again.

“I…” he mumbles, opening his eyes, “Wha…”

He looks at Sparrow. And actually at her. Not past her. Not through her.

“Can you hear me?” she asks again.

“Ye…yeah… hi…”

“Hey, kiddo.”

Taylor looks at the walls, and then at the floor, and then at the ceiling, and then out the window. “Um…”

“We’re at your friend Normal’s house. We’ve been staying here for a little bit,” she tells him, sensing his confusion.

“Right. I… I knew that…” he says, looking over at Link, then Scary, then Normal. Sparrow takes her hands and slides them up and down his arms once more, when he starts another question…

“Where’s�� where’s—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, and oh, it hurts .

He’s just a kid.

They’re all kids .

Sparrow thinks she might cry.

Taylor stands up fast, dropping the ice and breathing faster, and Sparrow is quick to catch him when he starts tipping over. His body temperature much higher than before, much like Nicky when he’d start to panic.

“Let’s sit back down,” she says, guiding him back to the sleeping bag. He’s hyperventilating now.

“That—Hermie—tha… that’s… that wasn’t real, right?” he asks between breaths.

“Taylor, hey, slow dow—”

“It wasn’t, right? ” he asks again, his voice gaining more strength however strained it might be.

Sparrow doesn’t know what to say.

“I mean—he’s, like, freakishly resilient! Or—or—or—or just lucky… either… either way! There’s no way!” he continues, yelling now, locking eyes with everyone one by one and bordering on hysteria. “Why aren’t you guys saying anything!?”

Scary starts, “Taylor—”

“We buried him in the backyard,” Link finishes.

Taylor lets out a choked squeak sort of noise, and the waterworks start. It’s not sobs, just a steady stream of tears as the frantic breaths continue. “Maybe it was a—a—another scam…?”

“It’s been days, Taylor,” Scary says.

“ Days? ”

“Ye—”

Before Scary can finish her sentence, Taylor is booking it out the door and into the yard, nearly tripping over himself but stumbling out nonetheless.

“Taylor!” two simultaneous calls from Link and Scary as they get up and chase after him.

Sparrow’s about to follow when she sees her son has stayed put.

Curled in on himself.

Crying.

It’s something she’s seen much of lately, and every time, more of her shatters.

Dood stirs, and turns to wrap his arms around Normal’s waist. The purple static is exceedingly hard to look directly at, but Sparrow’s heart aches nonetheless.

She just wants to make it all go away…

“Oh my god!”

“Taylor, stop! ”

Screams from the backyard.

Sparrow runs out.

Taylor is squirming in Link’s grip, breathing harder and faster than before.

“ Let me go! ” he screams, punching Link in the arm repeatedly with dirtied fists—

Dirtied fists…?

Sparrow’s gaze slips from Taylor to Scary, who’s standing in front of the grave with her arms outstretched, like she’s guarding it. And the grave… oh…

It’s a mess.

The flower has toppled over, and bits of dirt are spread around it.

Oh.

Oh, Taylor .

“ Ow! ” Link shouts. Taylor is kicking at his legs now.

“Fucking— let go! ” Taylor screams again, and the sheer volume could wake up the whole of San Dimas.

“I won’t. You’re—you’re not stable right now, man!”

Taylor lets out a whine, and Link yelps in pain, claw-like nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“Put me—put me down!” he whines. His face is red, he’s trembling worse, and he’s sucking in breaths like he’s trapped underwater and his lungs have lost their air.

“Taylor, breathe !” Link shouts, his voice strained. Blood trickles down his arm from where Taylor’s piercing the skin.

“Let me go!”

“You know that I won’t.”

Taylor only wheezes in response, pulling his hands away for a moment, revealing bloodied nails, before feebly attempting to pry Link’s arms off him once more.

“Taylor, listen to me,” Link says, holding him tighter and taking on a gentler tone, “stop fighting, it’s not worth it.”

Somehow, this calms him some—well, it stops him from actively attacking.

His head tips forward a little, and his eyes start to droop.

“Taylor, hey, hey, hey, breathe. Breathe. You’re gonna pass out,” Link says, turning Taylor around so he’s pressed up against Link’s chest, and taking an exaggerated breath in for Taylor to follow. He doesn’t.

“But…” he whines.

“There’s no use,” Scary says, taking a step closer to the two. “He’s gone, and I don’t think… looking at his body will change that. It might just make you throw up.”

Taylor lets out a small squeak, and, at last, a sob rips through him.

And another. And another. And another.

A cacophony of sobs becomes muffled in an instant when Link holds him closer, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back, his eyes glassy with newfound tears. Scary holds his hand in one of hers and rubs his arm with her other, tears sliding down her face as well.

Sparrow approaches the grave.

She moves the dirt back where it belongs, restoring the even surface it had before, and she’s careful to pick up the flower and not hurt it when she replants it, upright and steady, patting down the dirt around it to keep it secure.

She hopes this didn’t disturb their rest, but if it did, she hopes they know how much Taylor cares.

[satanickpanick]

“It was nothing personal, Normal.”

Catchy one-liners were kinda Hermie’s thing. Quips were masks, cheesy pickups were shields, and answering a question with a question was as good as a magic forcefield. Hermie was a master deflector, even when he could admit that mayyybe he should’ve been a little bit more serious. Moments like this, when his sort-of-best-friend-practically-blood-rival-totally-not-crush caught him red- (or, perhaps, green-and-white-) handed in the act of finally, finally taking what he’d come for.

Teeny the Teen had achieved almost godlike status by the time Hermie had set out on his mission. A relic of immense social power, its foam head and sweat-stained jersey were the stuff of legends at Chaperell. At least since Hermie’s eighth-grade visits to the CHS theatre department’s special behind-the-scenes performances, and very evidently far, far into the past, Teeny had been coveted for his heritage at San Dimas Public, and his longstanding rivalry with CHS. The funny thing was that the closer Hermie’d got to his goal, the deeper he’d gotten into the… everything that he had been totally unprepared to face in his subterfuge, the more he’d forgotten about Teeny. The idol that was the mascot had taken a backseat to actual idols, new worlds, new wounds, new friends- and to the man who wore the suit. He’d been poisoned, burned, fireballed, ignored… and he’d made friends, he thought. Real friends, sort of, despite- well, everything. Taylor at least thought he was a worthy (ha) sidekick, and Normal- Normal encouraged him. He sided with him, he spoke to him like an equal. That was more than Hermie could say about his colleagues in both CHS and SDPHS theatre. And- well, Normal had thought that the Hermie he’d pecked on the cheek in Hell had been real. That had been nice to think about, just a little. And when it came down to it, Normal was always the first to say hey, let’s see what Hermie thinks! or where did Hermie go?

Ah, the Romeo and Juliet, the Musical, Abridged of it all, Hermie thought as he landed assfirst, cushioned by Teeny’s head, in Sparrow Oak-Swallows-Garcia’s hydrangeas. Two high schools, both alike in dignity, in fair San Dimas-Earth-Faerun-Hell where we lay our scene… Fuck, he was in wayyyyy too deep. How was he supposed to recover from this? How was he supposed to go back to CHS, where he’d be a hero- but alone? He’d fooled himself, when he’d started this particular piece of chicanery, that things would be different when he returned to his home turf with Teeny the Teen held high. That he’d be Hermie the Worthy, the hero, the star. But he’d had some time to reflect, to change, to figure out who he was- and it wasn’t that.

It really wasn’t. And well- seniors were gonna senior. They weren’t gonna respect him any more than they respected each other. How was he supposed to go back to the way things used to be, now that he’d literally been to Hell and back? He couldn’t, not after what he’d seen and done, alongside the enemy, at that. He hugged the mascot (that smells distinctly, nastily, comfortingly of Normal) (Normal who definitely found his school ID and definitely hated his guts for this) close.

No, it wasn’t personal. Not at first.

But what was he supposed to do now?

[phillycheesesteakcore]

The Sleepover

CONTAINS SEASON 1 SPOILERS

word count: 4.6k

cw: mostly fluff, some angst if you squint, a little suggestive

synopsis: Glenn still has a house on Earth. it mostly stays empty, except of course when a certain druid uses it as a place to crash occasionally. this is what happens when the owner of the house happens to catch said druid when he comes home unexpectedly

Henry shook his head, pushing that last thought away and dragging himself to his feet. He could almost see Mercede’s smug smirk over his dumb crush. He made his way to the living room, dropping the bag he’d brought with him on the floor and collapsing on the sofa. He stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. It was quiet here. So quiet. In a few minutes he’d schlep himself off the couch and pop the pastries he’d picked up from Trader Joe’s in the air fryer to toast. In a few minutes he’d actually enjoy a meal that didn’t end in an impromptu food fight. In a few minutes he might even take a shower without having to worry about anyone barging into the bathroom without so much a knock. But right now, right now he’d just lie there and stare at the ceiling, enjoying the silence.

Henry looked around furtively. This was ridiculous. He really should stop this. This would be the last time. You said that a dozen times ago, a little voice said in his head. He ignored that voice and turned the key in the lock as quietly as he could, slipping soundlessly into the house. Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it and sunk to the floor. Eyes shut, he simply breathed in the air of the empty house, smelling of leather and guitar polish and the faintest whiff of weed. Just like him.

Glenn pulled into his driveway and just sat there parked, looking up at the house. He could’ve just made a portal inside, but he’d had to pick his car up from the mechanic anyways, and it was nice to drive around a bit. Most times he came back to Earth he just hung out with Nick or the other dads and their kids, so it’d been a while since he actually took a spin around San Dimas. Most of it was the same, but there were a few new sights to see. He was just glad to be home. Hell was cool and all, but it was still Hell.

Grabbing his duffle bag and the bags of groceries and other things he’d picked up from the store, he got out of the car and headed towards the door.

“Glenn, honey?” an old voice called over, “Is that you?”

“Yes Ms. Dolores,” he replied with a grin, making his way over the low fence that marked the property line, “it’s me”

“It’s so nice to see you” his geriatric neighbor said genially, gently pinching his cheeks, “I swear I see less and less of you these days. Where’ve you been?”

“Nowhere suitable for your ladylike ears to hear,” Glenn said with a wink.

“Oh, stop it,” she said with a cheeky smile, “if I were twenty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

“I think we both know if you were twenty years younger, I wouldn’t stand a chance, Ms. Dolores,” Glenn said. She playfully swatted his shoulder.

“You stop with that talk now, or else you’ll make your boyfriend jealous. I think he’s inside.” she said. Glenn quirked an eyebrow.

“Boyfriend?”

“You know; greasy blonde hair, cargo shorts, Birkenstocks? Kind of cute in a crunchy way.”

“Oh right, him,” Glenn said, slow smile spreading across his face, amused.

“Has that new salt and pepper in your hair made you as forgetful as me, or do you just have so many paramours it’s hard to keep track of them all?” she asked sardonically.

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” Glenn replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek in goodbye and heading towards his own home, “You take care of yourself.”

“You too honey” she called, going back to what she’d been doing.

Glenn approached the front door, fishing his spare key out of the secret compartment in the house number by the doorbell. He was about to put it in and turn the lock when a thought occurred to him. Instead, he slipped the key in his pocket and simply tried the doorknob, finding it open just like he suspected. Slipping inside as quietly as he could, he looked around and listened for anyone else inside. Sure enough, there was light spilling out into the hallway from the direction of the kitchen and he could hear a quiet humming coming from there as well.

Henry had finally pulled himself off the couch and made his way to the kitchen to make himself a snack. He was absentmindedly reading the ingredients lest on the back of the packaging when the air fryer let out a little trill indicating it was done. After carefully folding up and tucking the cardboard box in one of the recycling bins, Henry grabbed a plate from the cupboard and started putting pasties on it.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” a voice said from behind him. Henry yelped and jumped with a start, almost dropping his plate. Whipping around, he saw a not-so-amused looking Glenn Close leaning against the doorframe, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, groceries in his arms.

“Glenn! H-hi!” Henry stuttered, “Listen, I can explain.”

Glenn just walked over to the kitchen island, setting the duffle bag on one of the tall stools pulled up against it and the grocery bags on top of it. He started pulling things out of the bags and walked over to the cupboard to put them away, peeking his head back out from behind the open cupboard door.

“Go ahead, explain.” he said, going right back to putting the things away.

“R-right. Um, well, Glenn, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing in your house.” Henry stammered out, still stood nervously by the air fryer.

“Uh-huh.” Glenn moved over to the fridge, sliding past Henry in the narrow space between the kitchen island and the counter. Henry felt the heat of him as he went by, shivering just a tiny bit. He shook his head, gathering himself before going on.

“D’you— do you remember that time we needed a speaker on short notice and you said I could borrow one from your place?”

“Yeah.” Glenn said from the refrigerator, sniffing suspiciously at a jug of juice he’d left behind.

“Well, I, uh, never got around to giving you back your house key.”

“Clearly,” He decided to throw it out just to be safe. Going over to where the trash can was, he noticed the recycling bins. “These new?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

“Huh,” Glenn said before throwing away the bottle. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, just staring at Henry.

“Look, man, I’m sorry for crashing your place and using your stuff and moving things around. I honestly didn’t mean to keep your key, I really just forgot to give it back right away, and then I never had it on me when you were around. I know I shouldn’t be here when you’re not home, or I should’ve at least asked,” Henry burst out in a rush, “it was meant to be just a one-time thing but then it came a habit before I realized it, and I’m really, really sorry and I— are you laughing?”

“No it’s— keep going man it’s—” Glenn cleared his throat and tried to put his serious face back on but just doubled over laughing again, leaning on Henry for support. “You just looked like kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Seriously, what am I gonna do, ground you? It’s fine man.”

Henry sagged against the counter, relieved and slightly annoyed. “That wasn’t funny Glenn.”

Glenn looked up, face nearly split in two with a grin. “Come on, it was a little funny.”

Henry could feel the weight of him, catch a whiff of that smoky, almost spicy scent that clung to him. Gently shoving him off, he cleared his throat asked “When’d you get back?”

“This morning. I picked my car up from the shop and decided to a spin around town. I actually ran into my neighbor just outside. You’re over here quite a bit, aren’t you?” Glenn asked, leaning in even closer and playfully flicking Henry’s cheek, “She thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Henry turned beet red and spluttered. “Sh-she saw me? I’m not over here that ofte— She r-really thinks tha— I can’t believe she’d say something li—”

“Relax,” Glenn said, resting a hand on Henry’s shoulder, “I don’t think she’s exactly going around telling people that. Besides, you could do a lot worse than me.” With a wink, he turned back to the kitchen island, he grabbing his duffle bag and heading out the door. “I’m gonna go shower real quick, I’ll be right back.”

Henry once again sagged against the kitchen counter, chuckling to himself. He felt windblown, but that was just the thing about Glenn, wasn’t it?

He was just sitting down at the table with his snacks when his phone rang. His wife’s face filled up the screen.

“Hola, mi amor,” Mercedes trilled, “just wanted to let you know that Ricky picked up the boys for an impromptu sleepover with their cousins. Me and some of the girls from the station are going out to get some drinks so I might be back late. You’re at Glenn’s anyway right? So you’ll be fine. Say hi to him for me.”

“How’d you know he was in town?” Henry asked.

“Gloria ran into him at the mechanic’s,” her expression turned mischievous, “try not to embarrass yourself too much, you know how you can get.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Henry said, blushing furiously.

“Oh come now, mi león, don’t be coy. Remember that cute barista in Quito? Or that lovely couple in Amsterdam? And we can’t forget how you first were with me when—”

“Alright, I get it.” Henry said.

“Get what?” Glenn asked as he came into the kitchen. He had a towel wrapped low around his waist and another in his hands drying his hair. He came over to where Henry was sitting and looked over his shoulder. “Hey Mercedes. Looking radiant as always.”

“Thank you Glenn, great to see you,” she replied, “well, I’ve got to run. I’m carpooling with Gloria, and you know how she hates to be left waiting. You boys have fun. Te amo mi amor, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Get what?” Glenn asked again after Mercedes hung up.

“It’s nothing,” Henry said quickly. He looked at Glenn. He was still drying off his long salt-and-pepper hair, and evidently hadn’t bothered to dry off much else yet. Water droplets glistened on his skin under the kitchen lights, and Henry struggled not to stare. “You’re dripping all over the kitchen.”

“And you’re changing the subject. Besides, it’s my kitchen. I’ll drip where I like.” Glenn said.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a demon now, remember? We have a much warmer internal temperature than humans.” He took Henry’s hand and placed it on his bare chest. Sure enough, the heat was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He could feel the strong thump of Glenn’s heartbeat under his skin, he wondered if that had been affected too by his transformation. He realized he’d been staring too long and snatched his hand away.

“Oh, um, I guess you will.” He laughed nervously. “Mercedes was just calling to let me know that the twins were taken care of for the night and she was going out with friends.”

“Great. You should spend the night. We’ve got a lot to catching up to do.”

“Aren’t you going over to Jodie’s to hang out with Nick and them?”

“Jodie always makes a big stink if I show up without giving them a heads up when I’m coming around. I’ll go tomorrow.” He leaned in, placing a hand on the table with a smirk, “What, you don’t want to spend some quality time with your good friend Glenn?”

“It’s not like that,”

“Alright then. You go shower. I don’t care if you think rain is nature’s shower or whatever. I’ll order pizza from that new place I saw in town. You know if they’re any good?”

“Hey!” Henry said, slightly offended, “And yes, they are. They’ve got great vegan options too.”

“Fantastic. Now shoo, off you go.” Glenn started looking up the place he’d seen on his phone, “I’ll order for you too don’t worry.”

“Fine,” with a sigh Henry started to get up.

“Up the stairs, second door on the right,” Glenn called after him.

“Yeah I know.” Henrey said back.

“Oh I forgot, you practically own the place.”

“Shut up!” Henry spluttered, “And put some clothes on, I don’t care how hot you are.” He immediately wanted to stuff the words back in his mouth.

“What was that?” Glenn asked, Henry could practically hear that smugness in his voice.

“Nothing!” and with that he raced up the stairs, hearing Glenn cackling with laughter behind him.

Glenn knocked on the bathroom door, entering when he heard a muted response. Henry was stood there barefoot in only his cargo shorts, squinting at the back of a shampoo bottle.

“I brought you a towel,” Glenn said, handing it over to him, “what’re you doing?”

“Thanks,” Henry said, slinging it over his shoulder absentmindedly, “I’m just trying to figure out how eco-friendly this is.”

“Please,” Glenn scoffed, “you think I just let any old garbage chemicals in this hair? You got nothing to worry about.” To demonstrate, he let his hair down and fall to its full length reaching past his waist. Henry’s expression softened.

“I guess you’re right.” He said.

“Of course I am. Food’ll be here in about twenty minutes. When you’re done you can just put your clothes in that basket, I’ll throw ‘em in the laundry.” With that, Glenn left the bathroom and headed downstairs. He collapsed on the sofa in the living room. Henry had been there, he realized. He could smell that musky, piney scent of him. A faint smile played at his lips. He should probably get back to his room and finish unpacking, but he just wanted to lay there for a bit. A couple minutes later the doorbell rang. Heaving himself off the couch, he got up to go answer it. “Food’s here!” he yelled upstairs to Henry.

“Alright, I’ll be down in a minute!” Henry called back.

Glenn took the takeout out to the back porch and put it all on the picnic table out there. He could hear Henry come downstairs. “Out here!” he hollered. When Henry came out wearing his robe, he stopped in tracks.

“Oh sorry,” Henry said a little sheepishly, “is it alright that I borrowed this? I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine man,” Glenn replied after a beat, “Sorry, I should’ve left something out for you.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m alright.” Henry stared at the mountain of food laid out on the table. “Are the others coming over too?”

“Nope, just us,” Glenn said with a grin “I eat a lot more than I used to on account of being a—”

“Demon, right” Henry sat down as Glenn inspected the pizza box labels and handed one off to him.

“This is for you,” he said, handing him two smaller bags as well, “and I got you a salad and some garlic bread too. It’s vegan, I asked, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“I thought you might want to eat watching your favorite show.” Glenn said. Looking up, Henry saw that, sure enough, the sun was setting in a gorgeous array of oranges and pinks and reds, streaked with vibrant shots of blue.

“Thanks,” Henry said with a sight chuckle, “I gotta say Glenn, you are the nicest demon I know.”

“Don’t let anyone know,” Glenn said, “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Sure.” Henry just rolled his eyes. After a moment he asked, “What is that like, being a demon?”

Glenn didn’t answer.

“If that’s too personal I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

“No no, it’s” Glenn sighed and took another beat before answering, “that’s just the thing. It’s great. My senses are heightened, I’m stronger, I don’t get sick. It’s a better body than I ever had before.” He looked out into the backyard for a moment. “Over there in that corner there used to be a crabapple tree. When Nick was a little kid, he and some of his friends ate a bunch that they’d picked from the schoolyard over there and a little tree ended up growing. There was a playset too. He begged me and Morgan to get it for him on a trip to Costco. Hell, I had to buy this picnic table like the one we used to have. It took me forever to find the exact same type but I did. There’s nothing here that proves I was ever anything to either of them, and I don’t even have the same body I was a husband and father in.”

Henry put a hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “I— I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s— it’s fine man.” Glenn ran a hand through his hair, “It’s not your fault. I— I’m glad you’re here.”

“Even though I broke in?” Henry smiled.

“Pfft, yeah,” he looked over at Henry, “Why did you come here? I’m not mad or anything, just, why here?”

“You— you know I love my boys,” Henry started, chewing on his lip, “but it’s no secret that they can be— difficult. Even before, well, everything, I used to have to get a way every now and again. Stay an extra hour at the museum, that sort of thing. But since we came back, things have been different. And of course they have, of course they have. It would be unfair for me to expect everything to go right back to normal, whatever normal even is anymore. But, Glenn, my sons feel like strangers to me. I’m— I’m reaching out with love and it’s like it means nothing. Lark is so angry, all the time. And he’s hurt, and I know this, and I want to help, but he just won’t let me. He won’t even let me get close. And Sparrow, Sparrow, the poor kid is tearing himself in two. Trying to keep the peace, trying to mediate, trying to be a good brother. And I’m afraid he doesn’t have room for himself anymore. And I can see this, and I can do nothing, they won’t even let me try. I— being in that house, it’s… I have no words for it, Glenn. And so I run away, like a coward. And I end up here, where I can just be alone, without pitying glances from coworkers who know my kids used to come with me all the time, or know-it-all comments about teenage rebellion.”

After a minute, Glenn said, “You’re a good dad Henry.”

Henry looked up sharply. “I didn’t say all that for you to tell—”

“I know. But I wouldn’t’ve said it if I didn’t mean it. We both know what shitty dads are like. And I know that just not being a shitty dad doesn’t make you a good one. But you’re a good dad Henry.”

“Thanks Glenn.” Henry said after a minute.

“Yeah.” Glenn looked up at the house. “Thanks for staying with me tonight. I’ll be honest I was relieved when I found out you were here. I— I don’t like being here by myself. The house being so empty just feels so wrong. And you can come over whenever you’d like. Someone should stay here. I don’t know if I count.”

“Okay,” Henry said softly. They ate in silence for a few minutes. A drone buzzed overhead. Glenn looked over at Henry with a wicked smile.

“Watch this.” He got up from the picnic table and walked down the back porch steps into the backyard. As he went, horns sprouted out of his head. He took off his shirt as wings sprung from his back and a tail peeked out from the top of his pants. Crouching low for a second, he leaped into the air, his wings taking him further up until he caught the drone twenty feet in the air. He took a deep breath and bellowed as loud as he could directly into its camera before letting it go and slamming back to the ground.

“What in the world?” Henry asked with a bewildered smile.

“There’s a fairly new urban legend going around about a local cryptid that may or may not be based on yours truly,” Glenn replied, grinning wildly. Slinging his t-shirt over his shoulder, he walked back up the steps of the back porch and started clearing up the empty pizza boxes and take-out bags.

“You shouldn’t mess with them like that,” Henry jokingly scolded as he moved to help him clean up.

“I’m not really, if you think about it. A demon truly walks amongst them.” Glenn said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. Bringing the things inside, he placed it all on the counter, looking to the recycling bins and then back to Henry. “We’re supposed to separate the plastic and cardboard right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right,” Henry said, pleased that Glenn was using his little additions to the kitchen, “you have to flatten them first though, so they don’t take up too much space.”

“Got it. Watch this.” Glenn stacked all six pizza boxes in his hands and shmushed them together.

“No, you’re supposed to unfold them first,” Henry laughed, “if you do it like that, they’ll bunch up around the sides.”

“You don’t like my pizza box flattening?” Glenn asked, taking one of the boxes and lightly smacking Henry on the shoulder. “Huh?”

“Wait— sto— Glenn!” Henry managed to snatch one of the boxes and smack Glenn right back between laughs.

“Oh it’s so on.” They chased each other around the kitchen, laughing and smacking each other until Glenn had Henry cornered by fridge. He raised his pizza box above his head to bring it down on Henry for one final smack.

“Entangle!” Henry yelled and the little potted plant on the windowsill suddenly burst into a writhing, viney mass, wrapping up Glenn in seconds. Thoroughly incapacitated, Glenn could only watch as Henry got oh so close and gave him one last soft tap on the forehead with his pizza box.

“You cheat.” Glenn said, smiling.

“I was playing with a demon after all,” Henry shrugged innocently, “you can’t really expect me to play nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.” With a great burst of his wings, he cut through the plant, freeing himself. He looked down at the pile of vines left on the floor and then back at Henry. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Fair enough,” Henry started making his way over to the closet where the cleaning supplies were kept to grab the broom, but his foot caught on one of the vines. Glenn tried to catch him before he fell, but they both ended up crashing to the floor.

“Ow,” Henry rubbed his sore hip, “you okay Glenn?”

“Uh…” Glenn stared down at Henry. The robe he was wearing had slipped down his shoulders. The two of them were close, so close. Glenn could smell the scent of his soap on Henry’s skin. He could feel him, warm beneath him, legs tangled with his own. Henry’s breath tickled against his skin in a small gasp as Glenn brushed away a lock of blonde hair from his face. Glenn leaned his head in closer.

“Glenn?” Henry asked in barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” Glenn responded in the same breath, dragging his eyes away from his lips to look Henry in the eyes, “If you don’t want—”

Herny kissed him. His lips were soft but fierce against Glenn’s own, ravenous, hungry. His hands snaked up Glenn’s neck, his fingers tangling in his salt-and-pepper hair. He tugged on it and Glenn moaned softly into his mouth. Glenn’s own hands wandered over Henry’s body, feeling his way under the robe, tugging it down to the belted waist. His hands faltered. He wanted this, he needed this, so badly, and yet he—

Henry tore his lips from the kiss. “Glenn?”

“I— I can’t, I—” Glenn’s voice was raw and raspy. “I’m sorry— I—”

“Hey,” Henry’s face softened. Letting go of Glenn’s hair, he caressed his face. “It’s okay.”

“I want to, I really do, but—” Glenn couldn’t find the words.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologize.” gently pushing himself up, Henry took Glenn’s hand in his own, “We can take this slow.”

Glenn just nodded. They sat in silence together for a few minutes. After a while, Glenn pulled himself to his feet and offered a hand to help Henry up. He gave him a small smile.

“We should, uh, probably get you some real pj’s.”

“Oh, right.” Henry laughed. They both stared at the mess of the kitchen, suddenly feeling tired.

“We can clean up tomorrow, I wanna go to bed.” Glenn said.

“Yeah,” Henry replied. They headed upstairs. Glenn dug through his drawer pulled out a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants and handed them to Henry.

“Thanks.”

“I, uh, dressed the bed in the next room over while you were in the shower earlier.” Glenn said, “If you want to sleep there, that is. Unless you want to sleep here… with me.”

“Are you sure?” Henry asked.

“Yeah,” Glenn smiled, “yeah I am.”

“Okay then.” Henry pulled on the t-shirt and sweatpants, slipping out of the robe. By the time he was done changing, Glenn was already in bed. He crawled in under the covers with him and closed his eyes. Glenn switched off the light beside the bed.

“Goodnight Glenn.”

“Goodnight Henry.”

“I know you’re awake.” Henry gently poked at Glenn’s cheek.

“No I’m not,” Glenn grumbled, digging deeper under the covers trying to shut out the morning light.

“Sure.” Henry just rolled his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Nine twenty-one.”

“It’s nine am on a Saturday, there’s no way I’m awake.”

“If you say so.”

After a minute, Glenn reached a hand out from under the covers and felt around for his phone on the bedside table.

“I thought you weren’t awake.”

Glenn just made a face at him. Picking up his phone, he dialed Jodie.

“What?” Jodie answered.

“Me and Henry are coming over for breakfast.”

“Henry, sure. You I don’t know.”

“Shut up.”

“Is that Glenn?” he heard Nick ask, “Is he eating here? Did he say he’s bringing Henry? Are Lark and Sparrow coming?”

Glenn looked over at Henry. “We can pick your boys up from Ricky’s place on the way over, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Henry said.

“Yeah, the twins are coming too.” Glenn hung up without waiting for a response from Jodie. He and Henry got dressed and ready to leave. Just before Henry got in the car, he pulled him close and kissed him.

“Good morning, by the way.” Glenn said.

“Good morning to you too.” Henry replied.

“Good morning boys!” Ms. Dolores called from over the fence.

“Good morning Ms. Dolores!” they hollered back.

“How are you Hank?” she asked, “Don’t be such a stranger, you should come say hi some time.”

“It’s Henry.” Glenn said.

“It’s fine,” Henry said, “I’ll be sure to do that Ms. Dolores.”

“Good, good.”

Glenn pulled out of the driveway and headed over to Ricky Garcia’s place. The twins piled in the backseat and they drove to the Foster household. Nicky answered the door and gave Glenn a big hug before pulling Lark and Sparrow to go hang out in his room. Glenn and Henry made their way to the dining room and said hello to Jodie and Morgan, catching up. Jodie noticed the band t-shirt Henry was wearing and smirked.

“About damn time,” he muttered under his breath to Glenn.

“Shut up.”

They were all sat down halfway through breakfast when Glenn remembered.

“Shit, the kitchen.”

Taglist: @apricior @aqua-ginger @cheesetheory @greiiliss @i-3at-s0ap @officialgleamstar @m1locer3al @your-witch-trial-has-expired @thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls @itsbrucey @drag-ev @nutria--oscura @babacontainsmultitudes @prettyupsetnerd @pepadesol @cornychipper-18 @girlnemisis @landrick-lycidas @icy-book @watermelon-beachboy @bread-stickk @amnestyliketaz @yinmndragon @quillisgay @wombat-things @confusedlazydoggo @van-goghs-leftear @pencildragons @justablah56 @auguststone @chaos-ignited @roboobin @abeinginsand @mcleavemealone @himboparimbo @cookies-over-yonder @javasquats @lunarrosette @renepessimisticfanboi @mikeystrawberry @greylight32 @imperatrice-pigeon @oswin-remains (I tagged most people who interacted with my previous posts about this fic, barring those who indicated in their bio/carrd that they were minors, due to the suggestive content. If this applies to you and I missed it, or you would like to be taken off the tag list for any other reason, please let me know!)

[untowardsthoughts]

im still in johnny/jonathan mode . i do need to focus on my other non dndads ocs [theres like. 3. 4. not many] but i love my boy too much

also - might work on the littlest of blurbs [~500 words] on that one jodie & glenn brothers au that i never expanded on lmfao

so all in all, im trying my hand at fic writing again so lmk if anyone wants any of it

[jksnrabbit]

our of curiosity, did you ever post the johnny close thing and if you did where can we find it?

i got caught up in some irl busyness, but i just uploaded it! it's only 745 words, but considering i've never written anything before i'm counting it as a win

here it is on ao3!

[jays-art-dumpster]

I need Jerry fic like yesterday!!!

I think Link and Scary would not lie to Jerry about their childhood like their parents did to them, but I also think Jerry never actually believed them. I desperately want to see a fic about Jerry finding a portal to the forgotten realms (or old earth, I can’t keep it straight in my head anymore) on the night of the reunion. He and maybe a group of other kids get lost in the other realm and have to find their way back to their parents and get in to various shenanigans along the way.

[hermanunworthy]

I'm Free to Go Anywhere (Can I Please Just Stay With You?)

The following summer after Earth has been saved, the teens go on a road trip to explore the real California! ...But on this journey, things aren't the same as they used to be. Normal runs away, and Hermie runs back.

surprise!!! me and @apricior wrote a fic together! :D this has been our big secret project since august and it is literally my fave fic ive ever worked on <33 hope yall love it as much as we do!!

46k words, 9 chapters + epilogue, oakworthy, postcanon (hermie lives au), alternating povs (normal: kai, hermie: me)

read on ao3!

[apricior]

honey, lemon, cherry

The only reason Grant agreed to come to this stupid college party was because Terry had promised him that Sparrow would be here. Somehow, he gets dragged into playing spin the bottle.

here's my granterrow fic! i'm not used to writing things like this so i hope you all like how it came out <3

[read on ao3]

[cosmiado]

NEW OAKWORTHY FIC JUST DROPPED!!!! COME GET YER JUICE!!!

[risetherivermoon]

this one snippet from the new little fic im working on really sums up the specific nark dynamic in it im going for, so you could call this a preview (if it ever sees the light of day)

[tech-sapphy]

hi dndads fans

…okay y’all here’s how oakworthy can still win-

---

Normal was sobbing. 

His son was sobbing over the body of this other kid, holding tightly onto him. A kid who Sparrow had only ever heard about in passing.

Sparrow wasn’t stupid, he knew his son… and he knew that look. It's not just grief.

Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to piece it all together after hearing that kid’s parting words.

Seeing a kid who was his son’s age lying on the ground, cold, pale, and unmoving… for a split second he almost pictured Normal in his place. It hit him, now, just how wrong it was to ever let his kids get dragged into this mess he created. He couldn’t undo all the trauma that was done to them. Their kids were too deeply implicated now. He knew that he and the guys wouldn’t be able to fix all of this on their own.

… But Sparrow could still fix something.

And when he saw his son put his head to this kid’s chest, clearly trying to hear a heartbeat, something, anything? And saw the way that Normal only cried more as the seconds passed?

It was a nearly instantaneous decision on Sparrow’s part. Thank everything he still had a couple spell slots left.

He didn't notice normal glare at him, nor did he notice the way it shifted into shock when Sparrow put a hand on Hermie’s shoulder and cast revivify.

——

He was breathing. 

Hermie was breathing and the color was returning to his face.

Sighs and looks of relief from Scary, Linc, and Taylor were loud and evident, and Normal felt his dad putting a hand on his shoulder and felt a little better. But all of it was an afterthought. Nothing else mattered as he now had the energy to pull Hermie into a hug. A gentle one, considering how weak he was, but a hug nonetheless. One where he could feel and hear Hermie breathing.

It’d be too awkward to put his head on his chest again now that he was conscious, as tempting as it was, so Normal settled for putting his head in the crook of his shoulder, feeling his pulse and listening to the sound of his breathing.

He had one spell slot left, and his dad’s healing is what gave him the dredges of strength he needed to cast cure wounds on hermie. Normal felt him start to breathe a little more steadily. He felt Hermie's head moving around slightly, probably trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe it was selfish for him to still be holding onto him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was alive. 

Would it be nice to know if he actually meant what he said? If they could kiss and have this trauma all go away? Yeah. But after seeing Hermie lying cold and dead in his arms, Normal would take whatever he could get, as long as he was okay. 

So he started to move away from the hug and gently set Hermie down.

But then he caught a glance of a smirk-adjacent smile on Hermie’s face, right before Normal felt Hermie's arms wrap around him and pull him back in.

He felt a hand on the back of his head, and then heard a whisper; meant only for the two of them to hear.

"We have seriously gotta stop meeting like this."

Normal broke out into laughter, crinkling his eyes shut. Of course he’d bring this back.

When he opened his eyes again, his heart started racing even more. They’re so close together. It’d be so easy to put a hand on his cheek, and just lean in a little more.

He doesn’t want to hesitate anymore.

It looks like Hermie doesn’t either.

It only takes a slight move forward for them to finally meet in a kiss. Just like a musical reprise. They had gone through literal hell and back and finally found a way back to each other.

It was messy, they were covered in blood and surrounded by hellfire for a little while back there… 

But at this point, that mess was starting to feel like home. 

Maybe Hermie would, too.

——

That night, Normal was tossing and turning.

Finally back in San Dimas, he was in his own bed. But he couldn’t sleep.

He knew Hermie was alive and fine, staying over with Taylor for now, but… all he could see and think about was his slumped over, cold body. 

Yeah, he wasn’t sleeping tonight. Unless-

He plucked his phone from his nightstand. No notifications, but for once, he didn’t care that there wasn’t anyone reaching out to him. Because he was going to do it himself.

hermie 🎭💕

hermie!! are you awake?

He stared, waiting for a response. 

…

Maybe he shouldn’t have reached out at all. of course Hermie was sleeping, or maybe he wasn’t, after everything, and yeah, they kissed, but maybe he wanted to be alone after everything, oh god he was being clingy again, why couldn’t he just-

Of course

Oh. okay. So he probably wasn’t angry at him, even if he did wake him up. That's good. 

Now he just has to figure out how to ask him if he can come over without it sounding weird. Maybe when he has reassurance that he really is still alive, normal will finally be able to rest a little. 

can’t sleep :(

After all of -that-, who possibly could?

can i come over?

darn it, he couldn't help it, he just had to ask. quickly, he sent a clarifying text.

if you're okay with it!!! i just wanna see you and make sure you’re okay!! 

Well, I'm texting you, so clearly I'm okay.

But maybe I want to see you too

That was all the affirmative Normal needed. He grabbed his jacket which had his house keys already in the pocket, glad Taylor’s house was within walking distance.

be there in five!!

Door will be unlocked. I’ll be there.

Or maybe I won’t. You’ll have to come here to see.

—

Normal rushed over, antsy and anxious, only to pause at the front door.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead- what was he supposed to do?

Definitely not ring the doorbell. Knock? No, Taylor's a light sleeper. 

Uhh…. 

He would go throw rocks at Hermie's window, if only he knew which window was his.

He was starting to write out a text to Hermie letting him know he was there, but the door opened while he was writing it.

Hermie, looking bedraggled and tired, was smiling. it wasn’t a grin or a smirk. A smile. A small one, but it looked genuine, and he held the door open to invite him in. 

Hermie's smile was infectious, and he grabbed Normal’s hand, leading him to sit down on the couch.

Normal resisted every urge to just hug him right then and there, instead holding out his arms as a gesture.

Hermie must’ve been exhausted, because he fell into Normal’s arms immediately. 

As they cuddled up together, Normal leaning back on the arm of the couch so Hermie had more room to comfortably lay down, he finally gathered his nerves. Hermie wanted him there, after all, so… he liked him. it was mutual.

“Can I listen to your heartbeat?”

Silence. Normal’s nerves twisted back together.

‘Oh no, that’s stupid, That must be weird, you can say no if you want, I’m sorry Hermie, I know you’re having a hard time, I don’t want you to feel like-‘

Hermie just looked up at him and pointed upstairs.

“Shush, you’re getting loud. They’re still asleep.”

Normal’s heart dropped a little. 

“Right, sorry-”

“And stop apologizing.” Hermie said as he scooted back up, holding out his arms to Normal. An invitation of his own.

It would’ve been embarrassing how quickly Normal hugged him, if not for the pure relief he felt hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat again. He was alive, and here, and alright.

That's what gave him the strength to lean back into the arm of the couch and pull Hermie back into a position where he was laying down in Normal’s arms. As a reassurance.

“I’m sorry-”

“I told you to stop apologiziiiing.” Hermie sang in his little sing-song cadence. Normal let him, but continued with his apology regardless.

“I’m sorry for letting that happen to you, Hermie. I promise, I'll notice you next time. And I won't let that happen again.”

Silence, again. 

…Hermie hugged him tighter. 

“Well, well, well. A true knight, you are.”

Normal caught a little waver in his voice when he said that. He smiled, happy that Hermie liked him back and that he was helping Hermie by being there. In a surge of affection, he kissed him on the forehead.

“For you? Always.”

—

And if Cassandra found them asleep on the couch in the morning, cuddled close together?

Well, considering everything Taylor had told her about what went down yesterday… that was no one else’s business. She just put a blanket over them before leaving.