#eric called him a dilf and said Rick was everyone's type

[neonpaperlanterns]

Close Enough

@solaris2183 for this post also would anyone read a Rick Flag Sr./Eric Frankenstein fic if I made one? Or am I just crazy.

Phosphorus didn’t know her name, didn’t even really want to know her name. Truly didn’t know a goddamn fucking thing about her. And what would be the point? He already knew she wasn’t Parvin so what was the point in fracturing this already tenuous facade? Couldn’t he be allotted this brief moment of reprieve? Couldn’t he just for a Single. Fucking. Moment live in a world where none of this had happened? 

And it’s not like he went out searching for some random woman that looked like his wife. It wasn’t even a thought that crossed his mind. It just… Happened. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and he knew, he just knew it wasn’t Pavrin but he was moving towards her anyways; frantic in his desire to erase the image of dead eyes and a blood soaked floor. Though in truth she didn’t even look all that much like Parvin, not really.

Her voice just a bit too high.

Her face just a little too round.

Her eyes just shy of being the right shade of grey. 

She wasn’t perfect and the longer he looked, like really looked the more things he found that were just wrong. But when it was late and he let his mind wander, lost in memories then she was close enough and he was fine with close enough. He could fill in the gaps, wave off the small things and live in that world where they had just put their son down for bed and it was just them. That the woman across from him was his wife and they were simply enjoying another evening together in amicable silence. 

Logically he knew in the long run what he was doing was terrible. It was spitting on his wife’s memory and his own mental health. But at the same time Parvin was dead and he was far far from caring about how he was doing. 

And maybe that’s why he kept her around, as a punishment of sorts. He ruined absolutely fucking everything so tortureing himself with an imperfect version of his wife was the least he deserved. 

So he’d continue to let her be sweet to him, let her hang around and sit pretty with the only expectation being to let him look at her because this is the closest he can get to treading water before he was pulled back down again.