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queenzufufu · 7 years ago

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Youngsters (15/?)

Summary: For the kids at The Rooster Teeth care home, life hasn’t always been easy. They’ve come from broken homes, broken families. They’ve escaped with broken bones and broken spirits. But at least now they have a second chance to be happy with a real family.

Well… that’s easier said than done when your family includes a hyperactive midget, an overeager wrestling fanatic and a boy who just can’t go a day without punching something… or someone.

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“You are the most Texas of dudes.” - Bruce

Michael never thought having two broken fingers would bring him such joy.

He’d never broken a bone before, his dad had never gone that far, but he’d never quite liked the sound of it. Truly, the actual act and the way it had happened had been nothing short of horrible, the wild look in Lawrence’s eyes, his own sharp, frightened breathing, the sickening way the two bones had snapped into four.

“I was so scared, Michael,” Gavin had told him the next day, huddled up under blankets together in the living room. “I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to stop him.”

“Don’t worry,” Michael had comforted, and found the younger boy’s hand with his own good one. “You did the best thing you could have. Anyway, I would’a been mad if you’d got in the middle and gotten hurt. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Gavin had agreed quietly, snuggling into his side as they watched early morning cartoons.

Michael knew he had surprised everyone; the way he’d reacted to the situation couldn’t be further from the Michael they all knew. He was calm, he didn’t point fingers, he didn’t demand justice for the wrong-doing like the young superhero he enjoyed pretending to be. “I’ll let you guys sort it out cause you’re all adults and stuff so it’s probably better. Just do what you think’s best, I don’t mind. I don’t have to do any writing or nothing for a month so all my dreams have come true.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to one of us any more about what happened?” Burnie had asked, somewhat bemused after Michael’s little speech to him.

“I’m okay. It was scary but I’m okay now. I already told you what happened anyway - at the hospital, I told you everything how I remembered it.” He’d smiled up at Burnie, and then held up his hand, blue cast proudly on display around the two small fingers. “This, Burnie, is what we kids call badass.” The two of them had looked at each other for a moment before breaking down laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” Burnie had said, and Michael hadn’t disagreed; here he was after being physically attacked by another child who was still living in the same home as him (although it was still as yet undecided if that were to remain the case), laughing and joking around like it had just been another day, when in the past even any notion of violence would set his hackles rising, any sense that someone might be out to get one over on him, be it his parents, his older brothers, kids in school, it would all have him reverting back to his survival instincts, the idea that if you didn’t fight back in some way, some how, you would lose.

Michael hadn’t fought back at all this time, not as soon as he realized Lawrence had him locked in his grasp. He struggled to remember a time he’d ever given in so quickly. Then again, he struggled to remember a time he’d ever faced an opponent quite like that boy.

Drunkards and people high off their face - his mom and dad - jealousy and ingrained brutishness - his older brothers - the kids at school who’d said something to his face or behind his back, about the way he dressed, the way he spoke, the home he came from…

All different in their own way, and yet familiar too. Opponents he could recognize, or at least, recognize that similarity they shared between them, the fuel that drove them.

That was what made Lawrence different.

The look on his face, in his eyes, the whole time he’d been staring at Michael while he hurt the younger boy and Michael was in so much pain to concentrate on anything much, he’d noticed one thing. Or rather, he hadn’t noticed anything, at all. There had been nothing there.

The words had been there, and the motivation for the attack, but beyond that, when Michael had looked into the other boy’s face, he’d found it empty. Devoid of any emotion.

And what he’d said after… “I’m sorry.”

Had those words been meant for him? Or someone else entirely.

Whatever it meant, Michael just couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Once his tears had dried and the pain began to dull, when he was sitting quietly in the hospital with Burnie, it had surprised him that the rage was not burning in his heart. He’d been waiting for it to arrive, expecting it. And when it had not come, even the next day, he had to come to the most obvious conclusion.

He wasn’t mad.

He wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t sad, and he wasn’t afraid. He was… confused, maybe?

Confused would be the word to describe everyone else’s reaction to the way he responded to the incident. Not Michael. Not little, fly-off-the-hook-at-one-tiny-thing Michael.

His nightmares hadn’t slowed. Although he was becoming more reluctant to refer to them as nightmares, more, unpleasant dreams. Memories.

His memories were coming back to him, slowly. He had no proof - he could obviously be making the stuff up in his subconscious, since they only reappeared first in his dreams. They felt real though, in his heart, when he woke up the next morning or sometimes in the middle of the night, his heart told him that they were real.

It had been a long time since he’d had dreams like this, since he’d dreamed about his family so vividly at all. Seeing them again, reliving memories he didn’t know he’d kept, remembering not only the bad but the not so bad too - it was strange. For so long all he could remember of that life was the bad, the days when his dad would be so depressed he would struggle to speak, and then his mom would be so high she would speak to ghosts only she knew.

But now he was remembering other stuff, other days. And they weren’t all that bad, not really.

Just small glimpses in time; watching TV squashed between his two brothers, his mom cutting his hair, his dad laughing.

Michael didn’t know what to make of it all. For as long as he could remember, his anger had always stemmed from his family, from all the injustice he’d seen at such a young age and how it had affected everyone around him. He’d been angry that he was already set on a similar path, with the way his schooling was going and such, and the way he could easily get into spats with other kids. He’d begun to think that he was going to end up the same as his parents, an inevitability, one day.

How could he know anything now when he couldn’t even trust what he thought he’d once known?

Who am I?

That day, a Saturday, was a dull, grey-skied day where everything just felt miserable outside. All the snow and ice had melted, leaving a horrible wet and muddy slush behind, the once pretty white that had covered the trees had now gone, leaving them barren and bare. School had started on Wednesday - unfortunately for Jack who’s birthday happened to fall on the same day - but Michael had never felt more relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to get used to his new routine, which spoke volumes about how disinterested he was in school life. He was given a partner to buddy up with and they basically did double the work, writing down his notes and any work they did during class. Michael had taken the initiative on that one, asking to be paired with a girl named Eliza, by far the smartest in their class and too friendly for her own good. It took less than a day for Michael to basically get her to just copy her work out twice, once for her and once for him.

Also any time he felt bored, which was a lot, he would just complain his hand hurt, asking to go to the nurse’s office. He did - go to the nurse’s office that is - but the route there and back was halted by frequent detours to the schoolyard.

All in all the new year had been very kind to him.

At that moment, however, Michael was bored, sitting by the window in his and Gavin’s room playing some random games on the iPad while he waited for the younger boy to return. Saturday mornings were when they usually went swimming - Gavin and Jeremy attending a class while Michael mucked around by the slides. It was the one thing he had to blame his fingers for, but… he could cope without Gavin for a few Saturday morning’s, he supposed. It’s what he’d persuaded Gavin of, anyway.

When he heard the tapping on his door, he could guess who it was before he even turned around. Only one person would be cautiously knocking on his already open door, someone who’d set the whole house on edge for a few days, and who was still causing the adults a great deal of stress, even if the boy himself had been a shadow ever since he’d sent Michael crying to the hospital.

Lawrence stood in his doorway, expression blank, but with fists tugging the bottom of his hoodie that proved he was likely a lot less composed than his steady frame would have him seem.

“Can I come in?” he asked, voice coming out slightly raspy, like it hadn’t been used in a while. “I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.”

Michael's mouth stretched into an amused expression. Being polite and asking for permission wasn’t Lawrence’s thing - at all - but Michael thought he was pulling it off quite well, keeping his voice at a normal speaking volume, calm, not threatening in any way. The fact that he might be sent away from the home at the slightest disturbance he caused didn’t have much to do with it, Michael thought. The older boy didn’t care what happened to him, no warnings about being taken from Rooster Teeth would have any control over him. He was on his best behavior for other reasons, then.

Whatever it was, Michael felt no fear. Not now, anyway.

“As long as we don’t have to fight again. I’d be even worse now I’ve only got one hand and I was pretty bad before, against you anyway. I do alright in the little fights we sometimes have in the schoolyard - but I know I don’t stand a chance against any of that ninja shit you did to me. Guess you knew that when you asked me to fight before, huh?”

Lawrence took a few steps into the room, body relaxing slightly. “It was a dirty move. I knew I’d beat you cause I knew you wouldn’t use any dirty moves like that, ones that would trick people. You ain’t a dirty fighter, Michael - simple as that, no matter what you fucking think.”

Michael couldn’t remember ever telling the older boy what he was thinking, never had a conversation that lasted longer than ten seconds before that other fateful day. From what he could gather, Lawrence paid even less attention to him than Michael did to him, and now here he was telling Michael that he was wrong about who he thought he was?

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly. He hadn’t seen the boy since that day, the other staying in his room out of everyone’s way. Michael had been wondering of all the things he might say to him when he eventually saw him, and now that he was here, and it was just the two of them, there was only that one question in his mind.

“Why?” he asked again, louder, as Lawrence walked further into the room and leaned against the bottom of Gavin’s bed.

“Yeah…” he said. “Fucking ain’t got much of a reason or excuse for you there.” He hugged his arms across his chest, appearing even smaller than usual. “I know what you’ve been saying about me. I know you’ve been telling Gavin and James and all them lot that I murdered my dad.”

“Figured as much when you broke my fingers.” Michael couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice.

Lawrence glanced up at him.

“Yeah,” he repeated, and then quickly looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “But like I said, I don’t think that were the reason I did it. Might be the reason I came looking for you in the first place… but I never wanted to, I dunno - how’d you say it? Pasen de la raya, cross the line.”

Michael studied him. They weren’t tales, the other boy wasn’t fumbling for excuses. As far as Michael could tell, he was just telling him how it was.

“Did you?” he whispered, unable to stop himself, but feeling like now was as good a chance as ever to get his answers. Because that was what had been bothering him more than anything. He knew he’d heard stuff being spoken between the adults, whether he was meant to or not; only a few words here and there, but enough to paint a picture in his head, a head already filled with disdain for the newest boy.

“Did I…?” Lawrence only sighed when he caught onto Michael’s meaning. “I dunno. I don’t fucking know.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I dunno - y’know?”

“You’re not even going to pretend you didn’t?”

“What’s the point? You heard whatever you heard. I can’t do much to take that back.” He gave a dark laugh. “Unless I gave you brain damage too.”

“I’d rather you didn’t… I still don’t know what you mean,” Michael repeated slowly, and Lawrence tightened his arms across his chest.

“I ain’t gonna spend time discussin’ what I dunno, there ain’t no point.” Another humorless laugh that sounded louder than it was. He seemed to be unsure if he should stay or go, not used to spending so long in another’s company when he wasn’t being forced to. “My dad… he… well,” he sighed angrily. “My dad liked to drink, you see… like a lot, when he was out working and when he was home and any time he weren’t sleeping. He’d complain that I was always wastin’ water or electricity or somethin’ when all the fucker was doing was pouring money straight outta our pockets into the whiskey bottle. And, I guess you know this yourself, when he drank he got angry. And he drank a lot so he got angry a lot.”

He obviously harbored no fondness for the man, and Michael was only surprised he didn’t sound more angry when he spoke of him.

Of all the little things you’ve gotten mad about… thought that might’ve been number one on your list. Maybe Lawrence was still being overly cautious about losing his temper, but it didn’t feel like it to Michael. Could he really just not care that much? Was there something more? An uneasy churning started up in his stomach.

What’s it matter to me anyway?

“And when he got angry, he got angry at you,” he said aloud. “He hurt you?”

Lawrence looked up at him. He nodded.

“Huh…” was all the sound Michael could make for a moment. It wasn’t any big shock, nothing too far from what he’d heard before, but the admission coming from Lawrence’s own mouth somehow made it all the more real. Whatever his thoughts towards the older boy were, it didn’t change his stance on how he felt about an adult who hurt kids. Especially the parents of those kids.

“Mine too, when he’d been drinking,” Michael continued thoughtfully. “Not that often but he liked to slap me around a bit when he’d had a bad day - just bruises, never broke any bones or nothing.”

“Fire poker.”

“Huh?”

“He used a fire poker,” Lawrence said, seeming to mistake Michael’s horrified silence at that statement as him not knowing what one was. “Like this metal stick thing you use to stoke fires, like the one downstairs. Hurts like a bitch. But they’re good if you know how to use them, and that fuckin’ asshole knew that much, he was good with it, I’ll give ‘im that. Even better if he heated it up first,” Lawrence added, letting loose another nasty laugh.

Michael felt a bit sick.

Damn, was all he could think. He’d picked up the fire poker downstairs. It was really heavy, solid metal - it would hurt if you just accidentally dropped it on your foot from a couple inches high.

Lawrence, of course, could be lying to him. It wouldn’t be the first time the boy had lied, he lied all the time, about stuff he knew, or people he’d met, or things he’d done.

But he was pretty sure the older boy wasn’t lying to him. He seemed too stubborn to do that right now, and had little reason to anyway, and he was telling him about all this with such an assurance that he knew, deep down, that it was true.

He felt numb suddenly, cold and numb all over.

“Anyway,” Lawrence said. “You don’t care, do you? Why should you? Most of us have got shitty parents to end up in here. I ain’t no more special than the next fuck up, right?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Michael replied. His voice came out tight and curt. “You said… he did it right. What d’you mean?”

“I mean what I mean,” Lawrence scoffed. “He’d never hit me in the arm… or, like, my face, or somewhere visible if he knew people was gonna be seein’ me. Chest, ribs, stomach, those were the best places to do it so no one would see. I probably got a half dozen fractures or whatever that never got seen to cause nobody saw ‘em in the first place. He was kinda smart like that, you see. Plus, like I said – hurts like a bitch.” He tilted his head. “And I… not that I’m sayin’ breaking your fingers wouldn’t have hurt, cause I know it did and I… well, y‘know– ”

“It’s alright,” Michael cut his uncharacteristic stammering off. “You’ve already said sorry, you don’t have to again.” He nodded to the other boy. “You were saying?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah…” Lawrence spoke with a tone Michael had only heard once before, except this time he wasn’t being cajoled into fighting the other. “At least with broken bones pointing your body in the wrong direction and all, people notice them and they get fixed. Not so much happens when people don’t even know you’re hurtin’,” he murmured.

“You never told anyone?” Michael asked, even though he knew it was a pointless question. Of course he’d never told anyone. How many kids did?

Lawrence gave him a look too, that implied he knew Michael was just asking for the sake of asking. “Wan’t no point,” he said with a slight smirk. “Guy was actually a police and police don’t take kindly to one of their own being accused of summin’ like that, even if it were true.” The corner of his mouth dropped back down, along with his head. “Think maybe some of ‘em knew, the ones he drank with, but either they didn’t care or…” He broke off, body tensing suddenly. “Adults don’t care,” he said vehemently. “Ever.”

“Not all adults are the same –”

“I was different back then. Little pussy - never fight back. I’d just always… cower there and take it.” Lawrence laughed, harsh enough that Michael heard the rasp at the back of his throat. “You would’a right beaten me up if you knew me back then, I wouldn’ta stood a chance.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to anyway –”

“No fight in me… Just a pathetic little kid. Always took it. Took it whenever he felt like it. And then… Except that one day.” He met Michael’s eyes, who’d been staring unblinkingly at Lawrence ever since he started. “He came at me,” he told him. “‘cused me of firing his gun without his permission. I ain’t touched the thing! At least not that time anyway - motherfucker probably rid it of all it’s bullets himself when he was pissed, used to just shoot at the same tree stump out back over and over again.”

Lawrence’s arms loosened from his chest, although his fists were as tight as ever, knuckles jutting out harshly. “That time, when he grabbed the fucking fire stick, I just… I didn’t stay still. For once I didn’t cower or try and hide. I grabbed the nearest thing to me - this wooden stool.”

Lawrence paused for a long time then, but Michael didn’t feel the need to say anything for once, and eventually the older boy found the words to continue. “He weren’t scared when he saw me. Not when I was so small and had never hurt anybody in my life, never fought with nothin’. He just laughed, laughed and told me I was being stupid. That was when I did it. I hit him - right, smack in the chest, so hard it snapped two of the legs off the stool, left them hangin’ there all limply like.” He stared hard at Michael. “That didn’t do much, it just made him more angry, he was a big guy, you see, it wasn’t nothin’ to him. So he came at me then, and he were more than mad, had this look in his eyes like he was gonna beat me into nothin’ - but then… then he stopped and his face went real weird and he let out this choking sound.”

He stopped. The words had been so fast, spilling out with little control. He hadn’t dropped his gaze from Michael’s until now, and Michael had found it was like looking into the flames of a fire, seeing the event itself reflected in the green orbs.

“He fell,” Lawrence continued, slowly now. “Thud. He fell like the fuckin’ beast he were and he… and he just didn’t get up.”

And that was apparently all Lawrence had to say on the matter.

Michael swallowed, trying to keep his voice calm even though his heart was thudding heavily in his chest. “Then what happened?” he whispered, and Lawrence blinked, surprised perhaps that Michael wanted to hear any more.

He shrugged. “Nothin’,” he simply said, still unnervingly distant in the way he said it. “I left him there. I left him lying in the kitchen. I stepped around his body. I walked down the hall past the phone…” The smirk returned to his face, although now it looked more like a grimace. “And I went into my room and listened to music.”

He stood up, stuffing his hands into his jeans, facing Michael straight on. “They dunno if it would’a made a difference if I’d called 911 the moment it happened. Maybe I could’a saved his life and still be living with him right now. But I didn’t never do that so we won’t never know,” he murmured, speaking with such surprising honesty. “And so I don’t know if I killed my dad or not.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Michael blurted out, and Lawrence’s smirk turned a slight more real, head tilting in curiosity.

He wasn’t expecting that, Michael realized - for me to take his side so quickly, but shit. After hearing all that, how could he not?

Broken fingers or not, that had nothing to do with the past and the apparent asshole who’d hurt the other boy. That was him, right? Always-speak-his-mind Michael. And his opinion was pretty much set in stone on this one.

“Whatever,” Lawrence said when the silence lingered. “I don’t care. Fucker’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

He yawned before turning around, as if to show off how over the whole thing he was, and Michael huffed in frustration a bit as he turned away, wishing for once that Lawrence wasn’t making moves to cut any human interactions short. He’d felt anger towards the boy, then confusion, and now it was like double confusion mixed with something new.

He felt like he should say something. Wanted to say something but nothing came to him, nothing good anyway.

“Found the father dead with the boy just sat in his room.”

“They said they were too late, nothing much could be done.”

“Apparently the first thing he told the police was that he didn’t mean for anything to happen but he wasn’t upset.”

Those were the few hushed words Michael had heard when he’d been breaking the rules, listening at the office door.

And in his angry mind, he knew he’d jumped to conclusions, was obvious now. The other boy wasn’t some sort of ax-wielding murderer. He’d just been a kid trying to protect himself. Just like his other foster siblings had been. Just like Adam. Just like James. Just like himself.

Lawrence wasn’t quite gone yet. He’d paused by the door, one hand on the handle, back to Michael. “I really am sorry ‘bout your finger, Michael,” he said softly.

And then he was gone.

––––

They usually tried to limit their trips to the movies to about twice per month, but it was very difficult, naturally, when you had two teens as obsessed with movies as they were, especially when their movie theatre was one of the best places to hang out, for the food and the experience as well as just the viewing.

Jack actually managed to forget that he and Bruce were going there for his birthday as they sat in the massive cushioned seats and chowed down on fresh pizza, and became enraptured in a movie both boys had been wanting to see ever since the initial trailers had been released, letting out the occasional cries of excitement at the action on screen. At least until it was finished and they headed into a nearby fast food joint because a whole pizza each wasn’t nearly enough, and Bruce began talking about how he was getting old.

“Fourteen! You’re two-thirds of the way to being twenty-one. By then we’ll be heading to a bar to get drunk rather than coming to a place like this where they provide you with crayons to color in the menu.”

“You chose to take the crayons,” Jack pointed out.

Bruce grinned, swiveling his menu around for Jack to view his art. He’d done a fine job of coloring the huddle of emperor penguins in an array of bright shades.

“It looks like a Gay Pride march. Gay Pride March of the Penguins.”

Bruce nearly choked on his water as a laugh ripped through him. He set it down on the table with a shaking head and slapped his hand up and down on the table, greatly approving of Jack’s joke.

“You’re funny, dude,” he chuckled.

“Uh huh,” Jack said, grinning. “I had to find some way to stay relevant in school once you left, didn’t I? I am now known as the funny guy amongst my peers. And affectionally as the Jolly Red Giant by close friends.”

“Red? Pretty sure it’s meant to be green,” Bruce pointed out, quieter all of a sudden. “Why’re you red?”

Jack slid his steak around on his plate, before stabbing it and picking up the whole thing with his fork.

“Because I’m Texas,” he declared, pointing the meat at Bruce.

Bruce laughed again. “You are the most Texas of dudes,” he agreed.

He flinched suddenly as a waitress brushed past him, knocking into his arm gently. She was balancing about six empty plates, something that never failed to amaze Jack.

“Jesus, dude,” Jack muttered, laughing as well as he watched Bruce pick up the knife he’d dropped on the table and wipe up the water that had spilled when he’d knocked his glass in his startled jump. “You’d have thought by your freak out she’d stabbed you as she went by.”

“It wasn’t a freak-out,” Bruce protested, rather feebly as Jack immediately started up with a loud explanation of just ‘how over-dramatic’ his reaction had been.

“I just jumped, okay? It wasn’t that funny,” Bruce muttered, and Jack had to strain to hear him over the noise. “You know what? I take it back, you’re not funny at all.”

“Aww, c’mon, I was only messing, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you jump like that before, the look on your face was funny too,” Jack teased, returning his attention to his steak. “You always make fun of me whenever I walk into a glass door.”

“That’s because it’s your own fault and you do it far more than any normal person has right to,” was Bruce’s mumbling reply.

“I’m used to looking through one pair of glasses, so I don’t notice when there’s another layer,” Jack jokingly mused, eyes still on his plate of food.

However, when he glanced up again he caught a glimpse of nervousness on the older boy’s face. Upon this, Bruce smiled, but it quickly dropped again once he thought Jack was no longer looking.

“Don’t let one scary, scary waitress ruin your meal, Bruce. You know your food won’t actually bite, and seeing as this is for my birthday, I will be expecting you to pay for everything, so you better not let it go to waste,” he added, and Bruce nodded even though Jack wasn’t serious.

“Of course I will,” he replied. “I’m just glad the others aren’t here.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “At least Burnie’s ‘let’s get together like we’re all five year’s old to cut the cake and sing happy birthday’ is a way to get out of having to actually do anything with the rest of them. I mean - I love them all to death, but I can name about three I’d actually choose to go to the movies with… unless, of course, you want each scene reenacted as soon as it’s happened, then James is a perfect choice.”

Bruce added something to his little light-hearted observation but Jack didn’t hear what it was. He was struggling to understand why his foster brother seemed so distant all of a sudden, surely he couldn’t have been that surprised earlier. After he’d finished his food and silence remained on the other side of the table, he pushed his plate to the side, leaning back in his seat, searching the other boy and his still mostly-full plate.

He’d been intending to bring it up at some point but it never felt like the right moment to mention it, it being the small changes he’d noticed in Bruce’s behavior over the past month or so. He felt like he needed to ask outright if Bruce was keeping something from him but the last few times, he’d talked himself out of it because it’s Bruce, it’s Bruce who’s always happy and would talk to me about anything –

But what if there was something that he’s not telling me?

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, chewing on his lip in thought for a few moments. Looked up at the other boy and felt even more suspicious that he was hiding something. They hadn’t spoke for over five minutes, and that was unheard of, but for Bruce, it was like he hadn’t even registered the silence as he continued to slowly nibble at his food.

After some more time Jack finished off his drink and turned to lean against the wall, slumping back and thinking hard.

What the fuck should I say?

If he didn’t say something it was only going to get harder and harder to bring it up. Even though he didn’t know what it was.

Should I just ask him what’s wrong again? He’d tried that a few times over the past few weeks, only for Bruce to give him a funny look and say ‘no’, why was he asking?

Demand to know what he’s keeping from me?

But what the fuck would I even say to him?

It seemed inevitable that there was no comfortable way to bring up such a conversation, and he had no idea how Bruce would react and that was honestly terrifying, to think that Bruce might see it as Jack not trusting him, when he absolutely did with all his heart. And then, what if nothing was wrong? Even though Jack was almost certain there was because he knew his friend, his brother. And he was just acting… different.

This was just his luck, someone who always wanted to offer help in any way he could while also being out of his depth when it came to any kind of rejection from the other party.

“Bruce?”

A sudden voice by their side had both boys jumping that time, startling Jack out of his thought that he jerked his knee into the bottom of the table. The owner of the voice let out a light chuckle, holding out his hand towards Bruce. He was tall, older than the both of them, with short, spiked brown hair and bright hazel eyes - and he was big, more muscular than any kid around their age had the right to be.

“Foxy,” Bruce said, grabbing the other’s hand in greeting. “What you doing here?”

They were on friendly terms, Jack noted. Another friend Bruce hadn’t told him about because, let’s face it, there were many and Bruce probably forgot.

As for Bruce, he was smiling now. Relaxed shoulders, natural smile. He moved his hand to push his half-full plate away, covering his little penguin drawing up as he did so, a funny little gesture that Jack wondered if it was to do with his older friend being here and wanting to put on a certain show.

“Just with some of the guys,” the boy called Foxy - ha, really? - replied, his own grin never failing, as he took a seat next to Bruce without even asking.

Jack watched as Bruce shuffled over and Foxy smiled and smiled back at him until Bruce cracked another smile too.

“Hey, who’s your little friend?” Foxy asked, and Jack’s face reddened.

“Oh yeah, sorry! This is Jack. He’s my brother. Foster brother. I mean, we live in the same home, y’know?”

“Sweet,” Foxy said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack. You don’t go to our school, do you?”

“Nah, I’m one year below,” Jack replied, and the older boy laughed and grabbed his shoulder giving it a rough shake that Jack supposed was all in play. He was clearly one of the guys, like a ‘bro’, and not in the joking way.

“By the way,” the older boy added. “Don’t let your bro fool you, my name’s not actually Foxy. My parents weren’t complete idiots. I was born in the UK, though, in a pub my parents ran called The Fox and Hounds, so naturally, I became The Fox, or as some people call me, Foxy. And that’s the end of the story.”

Jack blinked. “So… your real name is?”

“Oh!” Both he and Bruce winced as the boy let out an enormous laugh. “What an idiot! Uh, my real name’s Jon, at your service.”

Well, he was certainly… friendly? Jack watched as Jon, Foxy, whatever, asked if Bruce was done with his food before helping himself to the leftovers. He and Bruce were talking animatedly about something - probably school stuff, Jack decided, when he heard a few girl’s names come up followed by ‘cute’, ‘fucking hot’, and ‘what a bitch’ - Jack was no longer paying the conversation much attention and he settled himself and observed as Jon made a flailing motion with his arms and Bruce shook his head with exasperation that earned him a hefty punch on the arm, the older boy clearly not aware or concerned with how heavy-handed he could be.

It was kind of funny to watch them; Jon released the few remaining peas on the table to “race them”, shouting “faster dickheads,” every few seconds and Bruce laughing as he tried to stop the food from ending up on the floor before finally collecting them all in his hand and throwing them down Jon’s shirt. The older boy even discovered Bruce’s hidden penguin colouring at one point and regarded it with amusement, proclaimed that they were ‘Rainbow Penguins’. Jack didn’t think that was nearly as good as his name but he said nothing - although when had he become the bystander at his own birthday meal? Three days after the fact, but still…

He tried to think of ways to get the newcomer to leave but eventually it was sorted on it’s own.

“Shit, I should get back to my own group, our foods probably there by now,” he said, standing up and ruffling Bruce’s hair. “Nice seeing ya, give me a call sometime, we gotta hang out somewhere else other than the field with Coach Philips shouting in our ears.” He smiled at Jack, although Jack wasn’t even sure if it could be classed as a smile if that was the only expression the older boy seemed to have. “Nice meeting you Jack, keep Brucie out of trouble, won’t you?”

“You too,” Jack simply replied.

“Oh, and Happy Birthday, by the way!”

“Oh… thanks.”

“Y’know you two actually look like brothers, now I’ve got a good look at ya. I know you ain’t related or nothing, but you just… well, I can tell you two are tight.” He bent down, whispering loudly into Bruce’s ear, “bet Teri’s gonna love him, you better watch out, bud.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he sent Jon away with a shove, the other boy only cackling manically.

Their table seemed quiet now, the calm after the storm following the hurricane of energy that had just blasted through.

Now that his school buddy had gone, Bruce appeared to have reverted back into his distant self. Jack tapped his fingers on the table, trying to work out if he liked Jon or not, at the same time wondering if Bruce liked Jon all that much. He’d seemed, as joyous as he had been all of a sudden, not quite himself around the older boy.

Then again, he’d seemed that way too with Jack recently…

“Hey, Jumpy, you two close?” Jack asked, and Bruce stiffened a little.

“Who?”

“Uhh… Jon. Foxy. The guy that was literally just here,” Jack replied, pulling a face. There was a jug of water on the table and Bruce reached to fill his glass up, looking like he needed a drink after that interaction. “I’m not surprised you’ve been so tired if that’s the sort of guys you hang around with.”

Bruce hummed. “Yeah, he can get quite hyper.”

You’re telling me, Jack thought, and knocked back his own glass without saying anything.

There was a moment of companionable quiet as they sat together. Out the big window on the third floor, Jack could see the lights of the city, some of them slowly blinking out as it got later, the quiet noises of night traffic down below. He got melancholic sometimes, late at night, thinking of how it was cars like all those that had taken his family away from him. Bruce was usually the one who settled him.

Jack frowned, thinking back to Jon’s parting words, only just now fully taking them in.

“What did he mean when he was talking about someone named Teri or something? Is that one of your friend’s too? Wait - she’s the radio club president, isn’t she?” He gave a wry smile. “Why would you need to watch out cause she’ll love me or whatever?”

Jack’s inquiring gaze was set firm and Bruce looked up to him, meeting his eyes.

“Y’know how I was nervous about joining the club, even though I love music and all? And how it took a lot of convincing from everyone to get me to set foot in the door? And how Teri’s been really awesome and made me feel really welcome right away? And how she’s been getting me included in projects and stuff they don’t normally let newcomers do?"

“Yeah…” Jack drawled out slowly.

“Anyway.” Bruce drained the rest of his water and set his glass down. “We’ve gotten close over the past few months… and then, closer…”

“Closer,” Jack repeated, the word flipping around deep in his gut. “Wait? What?”

Bruce barked out a laugh. “I guess I mean closer, as in how it sounds. It happened quite quickly really and I didn’t really know what was going on. First I don’t think I even realised cause she’s a junior and I’m well… I’m me. But there you go, it did happen and now here I am.”

Jack stared back at him, thinking back over all the instances recently where Bruce had been coy or distant or uncomfortable, especially when the topic of his school or social life was brought up.

It clicked instantly. Which was, to be honest, a lot slower than it should have been.

“You have a girlfriend?!” he shrieked out, causing a blushing Bruce to quickly shush him. “Teri’s your girlfriend?” Jack lowered his voice ever so slightly. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird for the past month?”

This would explain everything. His brain was more than happy to accept this as fact. It was the most reasonable explanation, after all.

“I’ve been acting weird?” Bruce half asked, half stated, sounding a little strange. He looked up at Jack. “I’ve been acting weird?” he asked again, a definite question this time.

Jack nodded, all his worries about the subject gone now that it was all out in the open and the pressure was off him. “Yeah, you’ve been all shifty and I knew you were keeping something from me. I knew it!” He let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head bemusedly. “Jeez, I thought maybe something was wrong and I needed to be worried and then I was worried about asking you and then I was worried cause I was spending too much time worrying about asking you…”

“Sounds worrying.”

Jack grinned, dismissing the blank expression on Bruce’s face for annoyance at having been caught out like this. “Right? I should’a known better. Man, I didn’t give you enough credit. If high school for you is anything like middle school, this is no surprise. Great grades, friends with the jocks –”

“He’s not a jock –”

“Got a girlfriend.”

“Jack.”

“Hey, you had a girlfriend before Ryan even did!”

“Jack.”

Jack ignored him, leg bouncing in excitement at the thought of telling Ryan. Even though he always said he didn’t care, he was pretty sure the older teen would see this as a loss. He could no longer come in second for the competition of getting a girlfriend… Unless you counted Jeremy and the apparent multiple girls he was dating at the moment.

“They’re running my bank account dry,” was a line Jack had never expected to hear from the five-year-old.

He continued, grinning at Bruce: “Aw, I can’t wait to see his and Geoff’s face when I tell them.”

“No!”

“No?” Jack queried, eventually stopping his rambling.

Bruce leaned forward, an air of desperation about him. “Don’t tell anyone else. Please,” he begged. “Just keep this to yourself for now.”

Jack didn’t get it.

He knew that privacy was treasured amongst kids their age, when everything was so often exposed for all to see. Even more so for kids in care, living with so many people, word and gossip could spread quick, often getting distorted by the younger kids.

“No one… no one can know,” Bruce continued. “Not yet.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, mutely. There was something about Bruce other than pure embarrassment or shock, all the urgency in his tone.

Bruce reached out and grasped his hands together his front of Jack.

“It’s just - it’s important, alright?” he said, and gave a small smile. “For now I just want things kept on the down-low.”

“Why?” Jack shot back automatically. “The others are bound to find out soon - wait, how on earth does Geoff not know yet? Ryan, I get. But Geoff?”

“We’ve been keeping things quiet,” Bruce replied. “Teri’s, like, the daughter of the main candidate for mayor and so her family’s in the spotlight a lot, and so she didn’t want us to be a distraction. You see?”

Jack nodded, albeit hesitantly, and Bruce smiled a bit. And then pulled his phone out, hurriedly typing.

“Okay…” Jack mumbled. “How does Jon know then?”

Bruce snorted, still staring at his phone. “Cause he’s fucking nosy, that’s why. But he won’t tell anyone else. So, please,” he glanced up, eyes pleading. “Keep this between us?”

“Alright,” Jack said with a nod, without really even thinking about it.

He’d do what Bruce asked him to. Not blindly of course, but that was what he was supposed to do, to be there for his brother. Just like they had been for each other ever since they first met, seven and eight years old, tiny kids, scared, together in their new life when all the people who’d ever loved them were gone.

Jack didn’t evaluate their relationship much. They were close, of course - two of the tightest in the home, never bored of each others company - but in general speaking openly about their feelings for one another was kind of weird. After all, at the end of the day, they were still teenage boys.

But he felt a sudden unease as he realised, why hadn’t Bruce told him sooner, or at all - that it had to be revealed by a third party?

He should know I wouldn’t have said anything if he asked, he thought, with a sudden upset.

“Thanks, Jack,” Bruce said, snapping him out of it a bit. He leaned over and gave Jack’s shoulder a fond shake, a lot gentler than Jon had been with him, not letting up until Jack laughed a little and shook him off. When he pulled back Bruce rubbed a fist across his eyes and Jack looked at him - eyelids red and slightly puffy, hair dishevelled, jaw muscles tense - he still didn’t quite look like the boy he knew as his brother.

Bruce appeared suddenly startlingly alone, sitting there closed in on himself, despite the way he was trying to act around Jack. His attention had drifted across the room to where the majority of the restaurant’s noise was originating from, where Jon and his crew had set up shop.

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

Bruce returned his gaze to him. The other boy’s face was strained, again not looking anything like the bouncy and fun teen at all. Like a boy who was struggling with something big.

“Everyone’s been asking me that lately,” Bruce muttered. “Least now I know why.”

“Like I said, it’s just cause you’ve been acting differently lately,” Jack replied softly. “Nothing big just small differences that aren’t like you, but… least I know what you’ve been hiding - unless there’s some other top secret you’ve been keeping.”

It was meant in jest but the moment the words left his mouth Bruce’s eyes narrowed and his face became firm. “I’m fine. Really. Just let it go already, we’re meant to be here celebrating you, not talking about me.”

He looked so hard at Jack it could almost pass for a small glare and Jack felt himself backing down on the topic. It couldn’t stop the random thoughts that kept striking him - what if there is something he’s still not telling me? And if so, what on earth could it be? - he should know I’d do anything for him - but maybe he’s afraid I’ll ask why - why seems to be his least favourite question nowadays.

But on the other hand, he could just be tired, Jack’s mind whispered, seeing as he was so busy with school and all the extra-curricular activities he partook in. It could just be the stress of being fourteen years old and apparently dating someone extremely well-known within the school.

Yeah, it could just be nothing.

It was probably nothing.

It was most likely just Jack being paranoid, making something out of nothing.

He let himself push it aside.

#my fic #ah fic #funhaus fic #rt fic

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lilwriter-blog1 · 7 years ago

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“the night’s still young” - end of the world!au + James Willems

James presses himself into you with a sigh that you can taste in pit of your stomach. Slowly, so slowly that you groan with impatience and attempt to push back onto him, he slides into you. Only once he is fully sheathed in you, body pressed tightly against yours does he grin, sly and slick.

“How do you want it, sweetheart?”

Hard. Fast. Desperate and needy like the fire burning you from the inside out.

He kisses you, rose petal lips caressing your own with a delicate graze. Hands cupping at the curve of your waist his fingers capture the searing heat of your skin and his palms press into you with a delightful pressure that heavies your body.

“If you don’t tell me what you want you’ll have to satisfy that pretty little cunt all by yourself.”

The words are whispered into the swell of your lips, a faux intimacy in the crudest way that makes your toes curl and breaths turn to ragged gasps.

“And we don’t want that, do we, darling?” James emphasises his point with a buck of his hips, his cock ever more insistent inside you. He asks you again, voice firm with unspoken threat. “How do you want it?”

“Like sunrise marks the end of the world.”

James’ cock twitches inside you at the thought.

“Buckle up, princess. Dawn is hours away. The night’s still young.”

#rt smut #rt reader insert #funhaus smut #funhaus fic #james willems smut #james willems fic

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riddle-me-bitch · 4 years ago

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It’s uh

Weird seeing someone’s life fall apart in real time huh

#I haven’t watched ah in years but I used to really like Ryan...#I think he was one of my faves #and this... just doesn’t seem real #I started writing a Fahc fic in 2015 that centred on his character #I always thought I’d one day come back and finish it but it was gonna have Ray in it so I was thinking about it #but uh....#*dragon’s den voice* it’s a no from me #funhaus will still be getting support from me because it’s more than just Adam #they don’t deserve to get boycotted because of the actions of one gross man

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olderthannetfic · 3 years ago

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(bringing this question here because you and your followers know a lot abt ao3 it seems) ive noticed a lot of fics for very different things getting all thrown under the same tag on ao3, like if you click on their fandom tag they all take you to the same "videoblogging rpf" tag, and I'm wondering is there a way I can search for the specific fandom I want within that tag without getting thrown into the mess of all these different things together? I'm used to just clicking on the fandom tag for something like a tv show and finding only fics about that show so I have never had this issue until recently

It depends how the tags are wrangled. The minecraft people are wrangled in ways their fandom does not like, and waves of wank have come through about it before.

The best thing is to check out the tag page if the works page looks weird. That will show you what's going on with the wrangling.

See here.

As you can see, the Video Blogging RPF tag has a lot of subtags that you could click on individually:

Smosh

OMFGitsJackandDean

Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF

The Yogscast

Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)

Game Grumps

Janoskians

JacksGap

Team Crafted

Sideburns Crew RPF

Vlogbrothers

The Late Night Crew

Rhett & Link

Our2ndLife

The Cube SMP

The RageGaming Crew

Nigahiga Production Company

Retsupurae RPF

TheRunawayGuys

VGToolbox

LaeppaVika

Magcon (Video Blogging RPF)

MindCrack RPF

NormalBoots

Shaytards

11 Drunk Guys (Video Blogging RPF)

Buffalo Wizards RPF

newLEGACYinc (Video Blogging RPF)

Magic Animal Club

Vinesauce (Video Blogging RPF)

The Ultimate Sidemen

Banana Bus Squad

Justimusfilms RPF

My Digital Escape (Video Blogging RPF)

Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF)

ScrewAttack RPF

Crewniverse (Video Blogging RPF)

Holy Trinity | My Drunk Kitchen RPF

Sugar Pine 7 RPF

Geek & Sundry RPF

Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF

Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF)

The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF

The Misfits (Podcast)

Solitairey Confinement Podcast (Podcast)

Hermitcraft RPF

阴阳怪气 | Yīn Yáng Guài Qì (Video Blogging RPF)

Shameless | Gøøns (Podcast)

OfflineTV (Video Blogging RPF)

If those don't suffice, I suggest searching by character, by ship, or by additional tags for your specific fandom.

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anonymous-dentist · 2 years ago

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Hi! I love your fic ''You're Dead'' but I saw your post about not updateing it/turning it into an original piece. As much as I'd love to read it w/ original characters, I'm also very attached to yd!karlnapity :'3 So I wondered - it's due to Dream allegations right? Idk too much (I saw some stuff on twt about it but there were so many re-tellings I'm not sure what is true) but if the allegations turn out false, will you continue the piece? Or maybe I don't know something and it's all been proven true?

(Here’s what I say as of 8:24 a.m. on the 19 of October:)

At this point I legitimately don’t know what’s true and what’s not. What I do know comes right from Dream’s Twitlonger. He did some weird messaging with fans, and- even if they weren’t minors- that’s really freaky. Shitty, even.

This isn’t my first rodeo with this kind of thing. I was an Achievement Hunter and Funhaus fan back in 2020. I also know to always believe the victim and to not believe, say, random fucking people saying things and then immediately leaving.

I’ve never liked Dream. It’s never been a secret. I’ve never watched any of his videos besides the face reveal and I’ve never watched any of his streams because I’ve never liked him. I’ve never defended him outside of saying he isn’t ugly. All the stuff he’s done in the past has been horrible. I firmly believe that you can grow as a person (I know it firsthand), and I’ve always been able to separate art from artist as you can tell by c!Dream being in my fics, but at this point it’s legit just too much. Because even if the allegations are true, the way he handled this plus the Manatreed situation earlier this year plus him, again, admitting to sending weird and very parasocial messages to fans just makes everything he’s touched tainted.

You’re Dead won’t be continued. I have cried over this. It isn’t the most important thing in the world, and the priority here should be with the victim(s?), but it still hit hard yesterday when I realized I’ll never be able to finish my fic.

Even if I was to play devil’s advocate here, I’d say that he’s still too gross. Dream’s character was going to die in the end, anyway, but I’d still have to write and include him in the second half of the fic, and I’m. Not doing that. So it can never be continued even if the allegations are somehow false. It sucks and I’m heartbroken. There, I said it, but it isn’t worth hours and hours of seeing his name there. He doesn’t deserve even a single hit on the Google search bar.

But! I really like the new concepts I have for You’re Dead: the Remake. It’s tighter and more focused while making adjustments to the characters that bring them to life in new ways and allow them to act like total fucking freaks all of the time (because tbh they were super ooc for a fanfic.) There were a lot of plot threads in YD I don’t think I could have ever successfully concluded in a satisfying way. Things were jumbled and messy and, honestly, pretty bad. But now I can fix it and make it actually good!

If the allegations are somehow false and other creators ditch the asshole motherfucker piece of shit, maybe I’ll be able to write about their characters in peace. Maybe. Karlnapity are so fucking important to me, you don’t understand. But the way things are looking based on what I saw on Karl’s stream last night and by how silent twitter has been on the subject… it’s not looking too good.

#asks!#dream situation

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d1etsodasociety · 7 years ago

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I have an idea for a huge fic that combines all of the fake crews, can someone brainstorm with me?

#fake ah crew #fake chop #fakehaus #fake pine 7 #rooster teeth #achievement hunter #cow chop #funhaus #sugar pine 7 #game attack #fic #fic help

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druidic-focus · 8 years ago

Photo

And as the sun sets over the ocean’s horizon, bonfire blazing in the distance, a soft sigh escapes her lips. Though her skin aches with the scrapes and bruises of a day’s work, there’s still a thrill coursing through her veins, that high she can only reach when her life is on the line.

Hearing her boys laugh, she’s pulled out of her quiet reverie, turning to them with a smile. “Elyse, it’s about time you joined us!”

This is home.

#fakehaus #excerpt of a fic i'll never write #elyse willems #funhaus #rooster teeth #fakehaus aesthetic #fakehaus edit #funhaus edit #funhaus aesthetic #rooster teeth edit #ragehappy #ragehaus #fake ah crew #killemses #duoachievement #roosterhunter #mine #fakes #100

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finalfrontierpioneer · 4 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but i finally went ahead and orphaned all of my rooster teeth fics. I considered deleting, but i figure i guess there may be some person out there who enjoys them, and I DID feel proud of them when i wrote them. Nobody asked, I just wanted to officially say that I’m no longer writing any fics in that fandom, although i will probably eventually read fic that does NOT include him.

Ryan Haywood has no place on the internet, he deserves no platform, and I’m not associating myself with his name on ao3.

This is the author’s note i added to either the beginning or end of all the fics:

Edit as of 1/4/21: You may notice that I have orphaned this fic, and all of my other Achievement Hunter/Funhaus fics. Truthfully, I came very close to deleting them instead. I don't want anything to do with Ryan Haywood on my page- he's a predator and he has no place in my fics. So I'm orphaning everything under the Rooster Teeth umbrella. Although Adam Kovic's situation is not predatory (that I'm aware of), I'm scrubbing Funhaus too, bc I'd rather be overly cautious. If you're unaware of the situation, here's a reddit thread that i found very informative. https://www.reddit.com/r/Achievement_Hunter/comments/j761ok/if_youre_out_of_the_loop_click_here/

If anybody else is on the fence about orphaning or deleting, it really is a personal decision. I read a few reddit posts about it before i decided either way. I also know the feeling of going back to a fic i really loved and finding that the author deleted it, and that also played a part in my decision. Thanks @staranon95 for your post, it was the kick in the pants i needed to actually get it done!

#ryan haywood

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orphanbrigade · 8 years ago

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Home Alone 2

Orphan Brigade [Baby Years]: The story of how an infamous crime lord became the guardian of three children and a teenager.

Continuation Of Home Alone

[Trigger Warning: Guns]

Geoff sighed with relief as they stepped of their plane. They were spending the week in Miami and he couldn’t wait to relax. He had been looking forward to this holiday for months.

Guiding their little group to the baggage claim, Geoff grabbed the first bag, which was marked with various bear stickers.

Geoff passed it to Jack. “Give this to Michael.”

Jack passed it to Ryan. “Give this to Michael for me? Thanks.”

Ryan passed it down to Gavin. “Give this to Michael.”

Gavin passed it to Ray. “This is Micoo’s.”

Ray turned to pass the bag to Michael, but no-one was there. “He’s not here.” He said as he passed it back to Gavin.

Gavin pulled at Ryan’s jacket to get his attention. “Micoo isn’t here.” He said as he passed the bag back.

“Michael’s not here.” Ryan sighed as he passed the bag to Jack.

“...Geoff. Michael's not here.” Jack stated quietly.

“....FUCK!” Geoff exclaimed. “Not again!”

Meanwhile Michael looked up at the Statue of Liberty, a determined look on his face. “It’s okay. This is just New York. I’m from Jersey. I can handle this.” He told himself as he headed towards the nearest hotel.

Luckily for Michael, Geoff had asked him to keep a hold of his backpack before they boarding the plane. Which meant that Michael had Geoff’s wallet. He managed to use Geoff’s ID and wallet to pay for the most expensive suite in the hotel.

He spent the next day exploring the city. He excitedly searched the toy store, buying gifts for Ray and Gavin.

“Where did you get all that money?” The man behind the till asked with a bemused smile.

“…I have a lot of grandmothers.” Michael improvised as he stuffed a handful of bills into the collection tin for the Childrens Hospital.

“Hey.” Lawrence tapped James to get his attention, they had been wandering around the toy store for an hour now, planning out their latest heist. “Isn’t that one of the Fake AH brats?”

“Oh shit. It is!” James gasped, the Fake AH Crew had quite the reputation, but the Funhaus Crew had a personal vendetta to settle. The last time they had gone head to head, the Vagabond had killed Kovic and Bruce. “Let’s grab him.”

Lawrence grabbed James shoulder. “Let’s get him outside, you know, where there are no security cameras.”

“Good idea.” James smirked, exiting the building to wait for Michael.

“Hello Son.” Lawrence's hand clasped down on Michael’s shoulder as he passed them. Lawrence knew from past experience that he didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves in public and normally kids would just go along with whatever.

Michael however, wasn’t an average kid. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m a friend of Geoff’s.” He smiled as reassuringly as he could. “He sent us to pick you up.”

“Yeah? What’s the code word?” Michael folded his arms across his chest.

“Code word?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Michael shook his head. “Geoff didn’t send you.” He turned to leave but James grabbed his wrist.

“Listen here you little shit-”

Michael knew that he wasn’t strong enough to get away. So he did the only thing he could do. He screamed.

Heads started to turned and James quickly let go of his arm, which gave Michael enough time to run away.

Lawrence and James spent the rest of their day hunting Michael down. They eventually found which suite he was staying in and broke in around midnight.

The plan was simple, grab the kid then take him back to their headquarters. Having one of the Fake Ah kids would be great leverage in the future.

They soon spotted Michael asleep on the king sized bed. There were two other boys in bed with him as well.

“Jackpot.” James gasped when he realised all three of the Fake AH kids were there.

“Where did they come from..?” Lawrence wondered. At that moment a gun was pointed to his temple.

“I’m going to need you to back the fuck up away from my sons.” Geoff snarled.

“Shit.” James raised his own gun but it was too late, the Vagabond was already stood behind him.

“I’d shoot you right now, but I don’t want to wake the lads up.” The voice behind the mask stated. “So we’re going to take a little trip up to the roof.” He explained, firmly shoving James out of the door, Geoff followed along with Lawrence while Jack looked over the sleeping lads.

“No-one threatens our boys and lives.”

#fahc #fake ah crew au #fake ah crew #fake ah crew fanfic #fake ah crew fan fic #funhaus #michael jones #Gavin Free #ray narvaez jr #geoff ramsey #Jack Pattillo #ryan haywood #lawrence sonntag

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queenzufufu · 7 years ago

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Youngsters (14/?)

Well… that’s easier said than done when your family includes a hyperactive midget, an overeager wrestling fanatic and a boy who just can’t go a day without punching something… or someone.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 AO3

“Truly a modern miracle.” - Barbara

“Go! Go! Go!”

Geoff pushed his legs harder, feeling the burn in his calves and the unpleasant taste of saliva forming in the back of his mouth.

“Come on!”

His heart pounded. And his lungs were ready to burst. But he was close. He was oh so close. Just a little bit further, a little bit more. He was almost there…

Faster, faster, faster -

“Wooo!”

God damn it.

Instead of coming to a graceful stop, Geoff continued sprinting. He’d built up too much momentum - his legs carried on moving, even though it was all over. A tree became his crash pad, as he hurtled towards it, thrusting out an arm around the rough, gnarled bark.

Now eventually still, his feet wasted no time sinking heavily into the fresh snow, disappearing until it was up to his shins. It was still freezing outside but he might as well have been in the Mediterranean at that moment, the way his shirt was sticking to him with sweat. Who’d have thought? Running in the snow was fucking hard.

“Aww, Geoff, you got beaten by Bruce,” came a mocking little voice.

Geoff aimed his best glare at the taunting ten-year-old. It had no effect. Adam was too busy dancing around Bruce - him and Elyse, looking like two little gnomes, their cheeks rosy, heads covered in brightly colored bobble hats.

The eldest took a moment to regain his breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply, before straightening up and pretending to be unbothered by the results of their little impromptu race.

“Yeah, well he looks like a stick, and his hair is neater, more aerodynamic,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and attempting to lean back in a nonchalant manner against the tree.

Unfortunately, he missed.

Shit! He quickly scrambled at the tree trunk to prevent himself from falling butt-first into the snow drift. Luckily for him, the other three were still enraptured with Bruce’s celebrations to notice his pitiful attempts to regain his balance.

“Bruce isn’t like a stick,” Adam was still cheering, tugging on the skinny teen’s arm. “Bruce has got muscles!”

“Yeah, yeah, show off your muscles, Bruce!” Elyse chorused, trying to jump along with Adam onto Bruce’s back.

Bruce was taking the playfulness with a good nature, as he always did, but Geoff didn’t miss the slight wince that crossed the younger teen’s face every time one of the little ones attempted to climb him. And Bruce being Bruce wasn’t likely to say anything anytime soon, so pushing his grumblings about losing aside, Geoff stepped back into big brother mode.

“Alright, alright leave him be,” he said, marching over through the snow. “You two aren’t that little, y’know.” He grabbed them by the back of their necks and pulled them towards him, allowing Bruce room to breathe.

Elyse and Adam were both extra hyper that day, the results of being cooped up inside for so long, and Geoff could only be grateful James wasn’t with them as well because those three together… he shuddered at the thought. Those three were like the three musketeers recently, a dangerous concoction of creativeness and mischievousness. Geoff was also pretty sure James had been teaching the younger two the delicate art of the “puppy face”, which only made them that more deadly.

Fortunately, he could just about trust himself to keep control of Elyse and Adam. Just. And that was why he’d offered to watch over them while Burnie did more important adult stuff in the city. The two both had contact with their families that day - the first in a while due to the Christmas celebrations.

Normally, Geoff would have believed Burnie totally comfortable with taking the two with him but, well, let’s say recent events were starting to drain the man. Geoff didn’t blame him one bit. A job like his… shit, he couldn’t imagine anything more stressful. He might have no idea what he wanted to do with his life yet, but one thing he knew for sure. There is no chance in hell I am ever going to work with kids. I’m already a big brother for ten, I don’t need any more, thank you very much.

So anyway, Geoff and Bruce were going into to town - or rather, Geoff was going and was dragging Bruce with him - and he’d offered to watch over the youngsters while Burnie did his thing. They were good as gold, really. Better than Geoff had been at their age.

He’d released his grip on them but they’d done as they’d been told and refrained from jumping on Bruce, resorting to jumping up and down beside him. “Geoff’s just jealous cause he’s not stronger than all of us,” Adam was continuing to taunt, his eyes wide and bright as he looked up at Geoff, expectant.

Oh, well that was a challenge if he’s ever heard one.

“Oh really? I’m not as strong as you?” Geoff grinned menacingly, crunching slowly forward through the snow.

Adam watched him get closer, excitement spread across his face. He shook his head with a big smile. “No.”

That was it. With a battle cry, Geoff launched forward, grabbing the ten-year-old and hoisting him into his arms, making sure he had his legs and arms tightly secured.

“You’re right, this is really hard. I’m going to have to put you down soon, I’m sooo weak,” he acted out a stagger, jostling the boy in his arms. “Oh no! A strong gust of wind is blowing me over to the lake!”

Adam wriggled in his hold, one escaping arm reaching out to Elyse and Bruce. “Save me!” he cried out through his laughter. Elyse scampered after them and grabbed onto him, trying to pull Adam back. Bruce just followed behind, a small knowing smirk on his face.

For his part, Geoff carried on with his Oscar-worthy performance, standing by the edge of the water and swaying some more for effect. “Oh no, my poor, little, weak baby arms can’t hold you much longer.”

Even if he was serious and did drop the kid, the most harm it would do was make him wet and grumpy. The lake had frozen over solid a few weeks ago but it was mostly thawed out by now, only a thin layer at the very edge. A host of ducks had settled in the center, and Geoff hoped he wouldn’t have a repeat of two years ago. Those stupid little motherfuckers, gone and sat too long on the ice, hadn’t they? Sat so long that they’d frozen themselves stuck. And so, of course, he’d had no choice but to go out and rescue them. That mission had taken a whole day and he’d been paying back Jack for two weeks after dragging the boy into helping him.

There was no way he could have left them though. Not the ducks.

Ducks and chickens. As sad as it may sound, there was a time when ducks and chickens had pretty much been his only friends.

Growing up in rural Alabama, getting “homeschooled” by their creepy neighbor, having no kids his own age around, he hadn’t exactly been spoilt for choice.

Burnie had picked up on it quickly, because of course he had - noticing that a reliable way to get a young Geoff out of one of his funks was to take him down to the closest park to go and feed the ducks. It’d been Geoff, Burnie, and then a load of parents with their toddler aged children. Geoff hadn’t cared - he just remembered being in awe of the fact that, for the first time in his life, there was someone who wanted to do something for him.

Anyway, presently Adam seemed pretty certain that ducks or no ducks, he did not want to be dunked in icy cold water.

“No, Geoff! No, no!” the boy continued to beg, although he was running out of breath from already laughing and shouting so much.

Geoff still didn’t have what he wanted, though. Kid’s gonna have to learn somehow.

“I’m sorry, Adam. I just can’t carry on,” he wailed, like it was his last dying breath, beginning to buckle his knees.

“Yes you can, Geoff! You’re strong! You’re really strong!”

Geoff bit back grin. Now I’ve got him where I want him.

He continued to lower the boy closer to the ice, maintaining his pained expression. “I don’t think I am…” he said, voice hoarse.

“You are! You are!” Adam was now positively clinging onto him, laughing in his face.

“Yeah, you are, Geoff!” Elyse joined in, still desperately trying to bring her friend back to safety. “You’re the strongest person ever in the whole of the universe,”

“Ever? So that includes Brucie?”

Adam nodded furiously. “Yeah! You’re way stronger than him. Than everyone in the whole universe!”

“Well then…”

With one swift motion, he easily swung the ten-year-old around, back onto firm ground, a not unjustified feeling of pride in his chest. The two immediately screamed and ran off together in case they were attacked again, but Geoff had already done his fair share of physical exertion that day and let them be.

When he glanced back, Bruce was stood with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes rolled as Geoff met his gaze but the smirk was still there, obviously both uncaring and unsurprised at Geoff’s little routine to make sure he was still top dog.

Geoff smirked back, corner of his mouth tilting up cockily, an expression that read “well, what did you expect?”.

The moment was cut short by Elyse and Adam running up to him again, latching onto an arm each.

“Geoff! Geoff! Can we go on those hamster ball thingies, please?” They were eagerly pointing at what had caught their eye, a way down near the closed park cafe.

Although the majority of the lake was still covered in ice, the guys who ran the floating orb activity thing had managed to smash a small area near their little pier, obviously hoping to cash in early with all the other main attractions still closed.

Geoff had been on one of those when he was younger. Had seen Michael throw up in one too, a scene that made it into his top three of most disgusting things he’d ever seen in his life.

He smiled apologetically at them. “Nah, it’s too expensive, guys. And anyway, you’ll be having fun with your brothers and sisters later.”

That elicited two very different reactions. Elyse let out a small sigh but she smiled ruefully, content with Geoff’s judgment. Adam, however, did not.

“No, I won’t,” he muttered, mood flipping in an instant, so quick he reminded Geoff for a second of James.

“No?” Geoff peered down at the boy, who stood defiantly, head lowered and brown fringe peeking out of his hat and flopping over his eyes. “Why won’t you, Adam?”

The boy fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket for a moment, mouth pursed tight while he struggled with his thoughts.

“Cause it’s not the same,” he admitted. “He don’t feel like my brother as much anymore. Don’t think he’d even mind if he missed out on seeing me. He’s more happy being with his new family than being with me - and he don’t even really like seeing mom anymore.”

Ah, it was what he suspected. Only the other day he’d been talking to Trevor about how Adam had been mentioning more and more recently that he wished he could live closer to his little brother.

It was something Geoff could understand, but not quite relate to. Sure, he’d been through bad shit back in his day; knew what it was like to be hurt and uncared for, still carried the damned scars to prove it. And yet… and yet, he’d never known what it was like to fear for others. Never had to think about protecting others before protecting himself. Every choice he’d made back then, they had all been made for him. Geoff, himself, he had been his number one priority - no fucks given to anyone or their mother.

How much pressure, he wondered, had it been on the young boy? Deciding to put his mother and brother first when he was still so young. It had certainly affected him in a way that made him, at times, a very serious boy - warm and giving to his friends, but extremely cautious around new people.

Learned how two-faced people could be when he was young. Too young.

“He’ll remember what you did for him,” he assured Adam as best he could. “How you protected him, looked after him. Maybe he doesn’t quite know how to express that gratitude right now, but when - as he gets older, he’ll let you know just how awesome his big brother is. Nothing’s gonna change that, Adam, you’ll always be his big brother.”

Adam shrank in on himself then, all the pent-up frustration leaving him in one wistful sigh. “I wish he lived with us,” he whispered, the pure longing in his voice upsetting to hear.

“And I bet he’d love it if you lived with him,” Geoff said, reaching out a gentle hand to fix the bobble hat that had slipped down on one side. “But you’re with each other in the only way you can be, right now.”

The brown eyes shut for a moment, and a tiny frown appeared on Adam’s forehead. “Am I complaining too much?” he asked.

Geoff’s lips twitched. Another thing with Adam was that he worried more than most about how he came across to others. On one hand, the kid always spoke his mind and did what he thought was right, on the other, he second-guessed himself often, always hyper-aware of his actions and what people might think of them. Both he and Jack had problems with that.

“No. No, you’re not,” he assured Adam again. “Don’t you ever think of it like that.”

Adam’s eyes gazed up at him - old eyes - Geoff had seen many a pair of eyes like those in his day.

“Anyway, Adam, you said you’d see if you can introduce me to your brother, so you have to go so we can team up against you and annoy you.”

Geoff turned to grin at Elyse. She really was a little ray of sunshine - always so positive and friendly to the other kids. At that moment she had come up to Adam, wrapping her smaller arms around his shoulders.

Adam twisted his head until he could see her and slowly smiled back, small but genuine.

“Seems like you’ve got no choice,” Geoff said to him.

The matter seemed settled for the time being. Adam seemed to be less stressed now anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d had anxiety before going to contact and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Geoff looked at him, at the two of them, him and Elyse. There was a funny, fizzing eagerness he felt in the pit of his stomach, and he knew he just couldn’t help himself.

“You get five minutes. I’m not paying for more.”

At first, the two were at a loss as he grabbed the notes out of his pocket and held them out to them. Then, in unison, their eyes wandered back to the floating orbs, to each other, and before Geoff knew it, they were squealing in excitement, snatching the money from his hands with cries of thanks and charging as fast as possible to their treat.

Geoff watched them run off, feeling both pleased, amused, and slightly annoyed at himself. Sensing Bruce’s judging look on his back didn’t do anything to help the matter. “Don’t tell me I spoil them too much,” he said, turning around.

Bruce just gave a shrug and a funny little smile. “I didn’t say –”

“Adults say that you shouldn’t give in to kids, bribe them, whatever. What do they know? How much happiness would they have experienced before living with us, huh? I just want them to feel happy as much as they can.”

Geoff was unsure why he’d burst out with that, but Bruce took it with a grain of salt. “You’re a big softie.”

“I am that too,” Geoff said, and shrugged, one side of his mouth pulling up into a crooked grin. “I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

Bruce nodded smiling, but other than that didn’t add any more to the conversation. He’d been quiet that day, but that wasn’t all that unusual. Boy reminded Geoff of himself in that way, could either swing one way or the other. A complete extrovert or introvert depending on the time. Jack was usually the one to bring the loudest side of him out, although anyone who played or sang the right song could get the teen hyped up.

Geoff had fond memories, of the two of them being around Elyse and Adam’s age, dancing around the kitchen - the room a good deal smaller back then - on the tables and chairs, listening to the radio until Gus eventually told them to calm down before they hurt themselves.

Why don’t we do that now? Why must adults, and teens, be expected to be so… so un-childish all the time? Where was the harm in simply playing?

“Talking about big softies, they didn’t hurt you did they?” he checked, remembering the look he’d seen on Bruce’s face earlier. “When they were climbing all over you.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, they weigh like half a pound each.”

Geoff chuckled. T’was true. All the little ones were kind of skinny motherfuckers, it almost seemed impossible when he thought about it, seeing as they consumed all the food that was bought for them at an alarming rate. They were growing kids, he supposed. But there was also a lot of catching up to be done. Some of the kids might be considered “tall” amongst the other kids in the home, but compared to other kids their age, they were usually on the smaller side of the spectrum. Years of neglect had left them a few steps behind in life, and not all of it was neglect.

Jeremy and Elyse, for example, they’d technically been fed enough, just not the right stuff. From what they’d gathered, Jeremy’s diet had consisted mainly of cheese and crackers or McDonald’s as a treat. While Elyse had been raised on some sort of “edenic diet”, he thought it was called. Super healthy and good for the planet and all that, but not the best for little kids unless you did your research and did it right.

So, as Ryan so often called it in his very politically correct manner, they were living in Midget Mansion.

“Just thought you looked in pain at one moment…” Bruce just brushed his concern away with a shrug. He didn’t seem bothered - probably just Geoff being over paranoid again. With so much going on at the moment, he was more concerned than ever with the happiness of his younger siblings.

He started walking in the direction of Elyse and Adam, hearing from the crunching footsteps that Bruce was following. “Heard you’ve been making waves on the airwaves, well, near them anyway. How long will it be before I hear you on there?” he asked.

At that, Bruce smiled, scratching the back of his head bashfully. “I dunno… maybe not until next year.”

They chatted about school for a bit, seeing as it was something they were going to have to return to very soon. At one point Bruce brought up how the president of the club had taken a shining to him, asking Bruce to stay late or come in during lunch to help him with prepping the shows. Geoff’s face lit up at the name when he heard it - a good friend of his, they no longer saw each other as much as they liked, but still, she was a solid girl.

“Teri,” Geoff mused fondly. “That girl’s freaking funny,” he said, recalling a time the girl had put up their whole class up for sale on Craigslist, including the teacher.

realized he was actually laughing out loud as he caught Bruce’s eye again, the younger giving him a strange look. “Mmm,” Bruce hummed, letting Geoff’s strange giggle fit slide. “She’s been more than good to me.”

Geoff’s laughter cut out. There was something in that sentence sounded odd. Something that Geoff couldn’t work out as he studied the boy. They’d stopped walking now - waiting by the lake’s edge for the entertainment to commence. Bruce’s gaze had dropped from his to the snowy ground, one booted foot skimming lightly across the surface in front of him, sending up tiny flurries of settled snowflakes.

Geoff felt his big brother spidey-senses tingling, and in fact, he sensed his earlier intuition had been right. There was something up. But he had no clue if it was something good or bad or just plain embarrassing… the closer his little brothers got to adulthood the harder he found it to judge. All the childlike telltales blurred by the adolescent maturity.

“Bruce is there –”

“What are you getting Jack for his birthday?”

Geoff blinked. The interruption had been so sudden he wasn’t sure if Bruce even realized he’d interrupted.

What perfect timing…

However, it wasn’t exactly strange, mentioning Jack’s birthday. Shit, that was coming up soon, wasn’t it? Too many damn kids, Geoff once again grumbled to himself. At this rate, I’ll be broke before I even start college!

They switched the conversation for a while, until Adam was shouting at them to watch and two giant hamsters were being pushed out onto the lake.

The two were absolutely ecstatic, and Geoff had to admit, it was rather amusing to watch. He made sure to film it all on his phone - all the laughter, every time one of them fell with a bouncy thud, or when one of them got caught in a running cycle, little legs racing on the spot before they face-planted forward - the carers would want to see this when they got back. And he wanted to keep the memory for himself.

By the time they’d finished, they were both red-faced and out of breath.

“That was awesome!” Adam bellowed, returning to them with glee.

“You should have a go!” Elyse insisted.

Honestly he’d considered it, but both rules and practicality stood in his way. “I don’t think I’d fit,” he told them. “Anyway, we need to get going, we’re meeting Burnie in ten minutes, you don’t wanna anger papa bear, do you?”

He’d talk find time to investigate Bruce later. Right now, his main challenge was going to be getting the two back to Burnie on time - although, let’s face it, they were definitely going to be late, and then he was going to have to try and explain exactly why they were late.

Either way, Geoff thought, I’m always the one who ends up in the shit. It’s my fucking luck for being the big brother.

––––

Barbara never considered herself someone particularly intuitive. People always said, go with your intuition, you know what’s best deep down. But honestly, she couldn’t recall a single time when she’d made a decision based on her intuition purely. Everything in her life had happened for a reason, and that reason was because she made it happen. There was no invisible thread leading her along, or some unseeing hand guiding her way.

She’d gone to college because, one, her dad would have killed her if she didn’t, two, because that’s where all her friends were going, and three, because she wanted the education. More education meant more opportunities. And for someone who didn’t have a fucking clue what they wanted to do with their life, she figured she could do with all the open doors possible.

She’d majored in creative writing but minored in media. When that was all over with she’d taken a job as an intern, managing social media for a local business. She’d been offered a job with the same company once her initial contract had ended, and she had accepted it.

She’d found herself working at Rooster Teeth because she needed a change. Don’t get her wrong, she’d loved the media side of things. It was always a fun, creative process. But one day she just stopped what she was doing, stopped and stared around her, really taking everything in.

And she envisioned herself staying there, in that same room, doing the same job until she could retire and collect her social security. And she’d asked herself a question.

Is this where she wanted to grow old?

She’d handed in her notice a week later.

Turns out she’d made a good impression during her time there.

Turns out her boss knew a guy.

Turns out that guy had been Matt, the son of a guy who’d built up a company specializing in child services. Turns out Matt had gotten a job at one of their newest care homes for some friend of his when they were basically kids themselves. Turns out that friend was Burnie. And it turns out that he’s looking for some fresh talent.

Looking back, Barbara often wonders how crazy she was at the time making the split-second decision she did.

The pay she’d been on was great, and choosing to head down a completely different career path meant starting from scratch, going through a whole new course of learning. And God, that training had been grueling, working in detention centers, seeing kids so young acting like they had nothing left to live for… She respected the hell out of anyone who tried to make a difference there, but that wasn’t for her, and she was glad she got out of there when she was done.

When she’d eventually started working full time at Rooster Teeth, it felt like every step she’d made in life had all been leading up to there, and it was only now that she’d reached that destination, that she could look back and pinpoint exactly which choices she’d made had lead her to where she was.

Her choices. Her decisions.

Not intuition… just a well-judged gamble.

Going out those doors then… why had she done that?

It was raining, hard. It was getting dark, quickly. She was intending to go and put some of the kids' clothes in to wash. There had been absolutely no reason for her to go outside.

But she had, because…

“Treyc’s? What you still doing here?” she asked, spotting the man sitting under the wooden decking, on top of some breeze blocks that had been left there since the last building work. He was supposed to have gone home an hour or so ago. Had a trip planned from forever ago with some of his old buddies.

What the hell?

It was unnerving, seeing her friend and colleague sat there, barely illuminated by the outside light, barely visible through the gaps in the planks. Barbara kept her voice calm as she quickly walked down the steps to crouch down and get a better look. “It’s your night off, isn’t it? Thought you needed to pack everything.”

As if he’d only just heard her, the man jumped. “Hey! Scared me there, yeah - I mean it is…” he trailed off - and he looked around, like a man waking from sleep, and laughed lightly as if he was only now realizing the ridiculousness of his situation. “Shit,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

Then the smile on his face disintegrated, and all of a sudden it looked like he was trying his best not to cry.

“Hey,” Barbara crawled over, sitting down beside her friend. Her protectiveness was warming, and she couldn’t help the way her own eyes stung, seeing Trevor so distressed. “What’s the matter? Who do I need to knock out?”

Trevor glanced up at her, and managed a little smile.

“I uh… I just feel like I shouldn’t be taking time off at a time like this. With all the stress you guys are under and the recent stuff with the kids. Just seems wrong that I’ll be going off to have fun without any of you.”

“We all need time off now and then. And you’ve, what? Had this trip planned for how long? Six months? When was the last time you had a break? And don’t say you have weekends off, I know you’re here just as much, you just don’t sleep here.” She reached out, a hand on his shoulder. “You need to make sure you leave time for yourself too.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… I…”

“The incident with Michael and Lawrence hit you hard.” As the words left her mouth she saw his face crumble, barely holding back the tears now. “Oh, Trevor, c’mere,” she said, pulling him into a wet and soggy hug, feeling him shake underneath her.

With the way Trevor spoke and acted, Barbara often found herself forgetting just how young he was. He’d worked there longer than any other of the junior carers, but out the permanent staff, he was the youngest.

He looked young now, like one of the kids; his hair flat against his forehead, raindrops dripping off his eyelashes and down his face, looking up at Barbara with those soulful brown eyes of his.

He sniffed loudly, turning away. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid.”

“Naw, you’re just making me feel bad that I don’t have as big a heart as you,” Barbara teased gently. “But seriously, Treyco, you’re the best of us, you know that. You’re unbelievable with the way you connect with the kids and the staff and any lovable idiot interns we get in.”

“I’m no Burnie.”

“And he’s no you,” she said, unsure what that had to do with anything. “Burnie might be one of the best, but you are… you’re one of a kind.”

Trevor flushed at her praise, and even more so when he met her gaze and realized she wasn’t joking. Still, he played it off as best he could.

“One of a kind?” he echoed. “No, no… I’m not one of a kind. One who’s been through it maybe, one who can - on occasion - look them in the eye and tell them, honestly, that I know what they’re going through, one who they might find it slightly easier to trust at the start when adults represent everything bad in their lives.”

He paused, expression vacant for a moment, as if reliving another time and place.

“I’m nothing special,” he said, a hollow sound. “And moments like the other day highlight how this fucking job can get to you and reminds me that, out of everyone here, it always seems like I’m the one who handles it the worst.”

“You don’t…”

“Course I do,” he said, firm but not angry. Merely acceptance. “I’m the one who’s sat under the terrace in the pouring rain.”

Barbara took a deep breath in, nose flaring as her grip on Trevor’s shoulder tightened.

“Stop it, you fucking idiot,” she said flatly, and Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “Stop beating yourself up over it. Maybe we fucked up somewhere down the road, maybe we could’ve seen it coming, maybe this was bound to happen at some point, maybe we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

“But –”

“But we as a team, as a family, what is it that you’re always telling us to do?” she continued. “To deal with the shit as it comes. And you take shit better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

As she finished, Trevor, head half-bowed, rain still cascading down his hair, could only turn and stare at her. There was a very awkward pause before he nodded.

“Trevor Collins: Master Shit Taker…” he said, rather uncertainly, before smiling. “Doesn’t have as great a ring to it as I hoped.”

Barbara had to hold back a snort; at least his sense of humor was still intact. “There’s the smile I love.”

Trevor snorted at that.

“You’re right. I know you’re right. You just gotta keep on keeping on. If there was anything my experience taught me as a kid, it was that,” he said, and Barbara’s eyes softened again.

“And don’t dwell on all the bad stuff,” she insisted. “There’s always a silver lining. It can be so easy to get caught up in the stuff that’s gone wrong, but there’s so much good that I see here, every day. So much good. So much life.”

“I did finally get Jeremy to stop swallowing his toothpaste.”

“See? There you go!” she exclaimed. “Truly a modern miracle. You’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Trevor chuckled again, although his smile still didn’t quite reach his eyes, didn’t quite drive away the shadows still lurking there.

Barbara frowned, and the asked: “How many years have you worked here now, Trevor?”

“Uh… seven,” he replied, taken off guard by the question. “Yeah, just over seven years. Fuck.”

“And in those seven years how many times have you been the voice of reason to all the guys?”

“You tell me,” Trevor replied, and Barbara flung an arm over his shoulder.

“Every day,” she said. “Every day I’m reminded why I chose this job rather than following my dad into programming or my mom into nursing. Every day I’m reminded why I pushed through those grueling work experience days at the detention center. Every day I think I learn more and more about how to be a good carer for these kids. And every day there you are, with some comment or insight that changes my perspective all over again. And it’s frustrating, that you’re that good and you don’t even know it.”

Trevor was staring at her, and Barbara released his shoulders to squeeze his hand.

“Me, Peake, Matt, Gus too,” she added, softer now. “We can hopefully be good enough to keep the engine in this place running. Help keep things running smoothly. But you and Burnie? You guys can actually make a difference. You’re the real game changers. Maybe start taking a little credit for yourself. What d’you think?”

“I think…” Trevor whispered, before letting out a shaky breath, smiling at her with an emotion that wasn’t quite sadness, wasn’t quite happiness. “I think you’ve built me up to be someone I’m not.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious, Barbara.”

“You think?” she asked.

Trevor just stared back, still looking mostly perplexed, tilting his head to the side like the kids often did when they were confused. Barbara could only smile back at him, and slung an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close. Trevor didn’t pull away, happy enough to hug her back. The tip of his nose was cold where it brushed against Barbara’s cheek, but a warm fondness swelled up in her chest as she ruffled the man’s hair before giving him a light shove. “C’mon, get your ass out of here before you make yourself sick.”

She’d had enough of being soaked for one night, and crouch-walked out of the space, watching to make sure Trevor followed. Once they were back inside, she grabbed a towel from the kitchen, flinging it over the other’s head.

“You’re soaked,” she said, and Trevor pulled a face as he removed the towel from his face.

“You’re soaked too,” he muttered.

For once, she didn’t rise to the bait, instead murmuring: “Take care of yourself, Treyc’s.

Trevor nodded, shyly turning away and drying himself off.

There was a more comfortable silence as they made themselves look something half human rather than two drowned rats, and when that was done, Barbara wasted no time in making sure Trevor had his priorities sorted, ordering him to make a run for his car.

“And I don’t want to see or hear from you until you get back. For a few days, I want to forget you even exist.”

The man allowed her to push him along, albeit extremely amused. “Bit harsh –”

“Nope, no, starting from now - I’ve decided you no longer exist,” she said pushing him towards the door and opening it for him. “Go on. Out, out,” she flapped her hands at him. He glanced back at her, possibly about to argue, but then she saw him give in, a grin flashing across his face as she practically bundled him outside.

She shut the door straight after him, although she cracked it slightly open again after. Just to make sure he was being a good boy and doing as he was told.

Sure enough, after a minute or so, the small car was driving off, taillights disappearing around the corner.

She sighed, happy with the way things had ended up.

She loved Trevor - loved everybody she worked with - but that guy… there was always that little special something about him. And God, she hated the times she saw him get like that, though rare.

And she’d meant every single word of what she’d said to him.

And she knew that Trevor could spend days wondering what had gone wrong and what he had done wrong, and that was okay, he needed his time to process things.

And she also knew that she wasn’t like that, and maybe that was a fault of hers, but honestly, things seemed to have worked out for her so far. Because you could wonder what you did wrong all you liked, the fact was nothing was going to change unless you moved on, learning from that experience and carrying on with life.

Call it fate, intuition, God’s will, whatever. The fact was it was up to you what you made of your time on this Earth. Or at least she was in a lucky enough position where she did have that freedom. With that said, she was more than happy to not ask too many questions about what’s, why’s and how’s.

What that made her, Barbara had no answer, but it didn’t concern her. Sometimes the greatest and most important things in life weren’t there to be simply broken down into understandable segments and answers.

Sometimes life was just crazy and wonderful and scary and weird, and if you spent too much time worrying about everything trying to figure it all out for yourself you’d never be able to simply be and let it be.

Life was life. Sometimes it sucked. Sometimes it didn’t. Even a kid could understand that.

Speaking of kids…

Stopped Jeremy from swallowing his toothpaste, huh? Well I never… Maybe he’ll even go to bed on time tonight…

She shook her head, ridding the ridiculous thought. No. Now that was a known fact, some things in life were just never meant to be.

#my fic #ah fic #funhaus fic #rt fic

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pacificrey · 8 years ago

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Just Give Me This (Zombie AU)

“This is it. isn’t it? This is the end.”

When the apocalypse arrived, it was merciless. Adam knew that far too well.

Tags: Character Death, general gore

Inspired by the amazing @bugjjuice ‘s funhaus zombie AU (I really wanted to try and write something)

X (AO3 link)

The streets are overrun. Adam is glad that him and Lawrence were able to get out before the worst hit. The protest had turned into a riot, which had turned into a full on civilian massacre. As soon as they realized some of the people were infected, the police were just shooting blindly into the crowd. Turned or not, people began running, causing more panic. The police were getting attacked by the infected. Rioters began to throw Molotov’s. The smell of burning flesh is something Adam would not forget. Lawrence and him had managed to slip out a side street and wind their way back to Lawrences apartment. It was getting darker now, but the streets were illuminated by trash fires and the flashing of gunshots. They snuck in the back, and Lawrence immediately began to barricade the door as Adam slipped in. Adam ran over to the windows, pulling the shades.

“Is this really happening?” Adam choked out. Lawrence glanced back at him, then went back to pushing the dresser in front of the door.

“Is that a rhetorical question or…?”

“Lawrence this isn’t funny. Those were innocent people that the police gunned down.” Adam raised his voice, pointing outside.

“Yeah ok! This is real! It’s happening! THE APOCALYPSE!” Lawrence was yelling in Adam’s face now, and Adam took a step back. The veins bulged out of Lawrence’s forehead, and he had a sickly yellow sheen to him that illuminated briefly as the fires filtered in through the window. This anger was unnatural, even for Lawrence. There was suddenly a crash from outside and both men froze. There wasn’t another sound, so they relaxed a little.

“Lawrence,” Adam whispered, “I’m sorry to get you worked up like that.”

“NO! It’s not fucking ok!” Lawrence was yelling full volume now. Adam tried to shush him, but it seemed to just make him angrier. “It’s the fucking end of the world!” At that, something was pushing at the door, growling and snarling. Adam jumped, but Lawrence just rolled his eyes. Adam saw that the anger was still in his eyes.

“Lawrence, c’mon,” Adam breathed, barely forcing out a whisper, trying to lead him to the bathroom. Lawrence begrudgingly took his hand, and they tiptoed to the bathroom, locking the door behind them. Adam collapsed on the tile floor, forcing himself deep into the corner of the room. Lawrence sat down with his back against the door.

The house was silent. They could hear the muffled shuffling outside, but even the gunshots seemed to have stopped, at least for now. And in the calm, Adam began to cry softly. It began with a few sniffles, and then the tears began to fall down his face, splashing onto his jeans.

“It’s not true, is it?” He was sobbing now. “Tell me you didn’t get bit.” Lawrence’s eyes were misty. He lifted his pant leg, and even in the poor lighting of this side bathroom, Adam could make out the distinctive bite mark, which was now red and inflamed.

“We had made it out of the main crowd.” Lawrence started, avoiding eye contact with Adam. “I…I lost you for a moment. And I stopped, stopped just for a second to look around to find you, and,” Lawrence’s voice broke. “And one of those fuckers had their teeth around my ankle.” Adam knew what was going to come next.

Both of them did.

“I won’t do it,” Adam shook his head, his eyes red. Lawrence crawled over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“You have to.” Lawrence looked into his eyes, and Adam could see the pain. “You know that I can’t be saved now.”

“You don’t know that.” Adam pleaded. The crying was getting worse. “I don’t want to kill my friend.” Lawrence gripped Adam’s shoulders tighter.

“But I will kill you if you don’t.” Lawrence’s voice was so matter-of-fact. Adam knew this.

“Can…can we please decide in the morning?” Adam begged, and Lawrence smiled.

“Sure.” Lawrence pulled Adam into a hug as tears pooled in his eyes.

Lawrence knew he didn’t have that long.

Adam’s sniffles soon trailed off, and he was fast asleep, wrapped around Lawrence’s arms. As gently as possible, Lawrence untangled himself from Adam, and quickly wrapped him in a blanket. Adam shifted in his sleep, but showed no signed of waking. Satisfied, Lawrence got to work.

Adam awoke to a pounding on the door. Jerked awake, he realized he was alone. Adam stood abruptly, scanning the room, looking for Lawrence. The banging subsided, and Adam glanced under the curtains. The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, illuminating the carnage of the street. The banging started up again, and Adam turned to the door, looking around for some kind of weapon. The bathroom was empty. Wearily, he crept to the door, and softly called out.

“Lawrence?” A growling answered. “Lawrence,” Adam repeated, but his voice trailed off at the end. He cracked open the bathroom door, peaking out into the hallway. It was clear. Adam opened the door more, listening for any footsteps or noises. It was quiet again. “Lawrence?” Adam called out, louder this time. He was answered again by a loud growling. Just go, Adam thought to himself. You know what you’re going to find. Adam treaded as silently as he could down the hallway, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The growling and banging were coming from Lawrence’s room. No, no, no, no… Adam reached the door, and the banging ceased. There was a note taped to the door:

Dear Adam, I’m so sorry I had to say goodbye like this, but it’s the only way that would ensure that you live. Please leave me. By the time you read this, I’ll already be completely infected, and I’ll be as good as dead. I’m so sorry. I love you, Lawrence PS - I left you a backpack full of food and supplies that might come in handy in the kitchen.

Adam wanted to cry again. He couldn’t leave Lawrence in there. He reached for the door, but as soon as he touched the handle, the door shook on its frame, bending to the pushing of the undead behind it. Adam recoiled and shook his head. Defeated, he began walking to the kitchen.

Lawrence was always the smarter one. He knew that there’s nothing Adam could do for him now. Adam grabbed the backpack and did a quick inventory. Some dried food, water, an emergency blanket and tons of medical supplies. Next to the bag, there was also a change of clothes and some running shoes. Adam put the bag down and picked up the clothes. As he did, something clattered to the ground. A knife. A huge hunting knife. It must have been the only weapon that Lawrence could find in the house. Adam picked it up, feeling its weight, balancing it in his hand. He glanced back at Lawrence’s room. He would help Lawrence, end the suffering he was going through.

No. He thought.

I can’t kill my friend.

He put the knife back on the counter and changed his clothes, putting the extra pair in the backpack. He grabbed the knife and attached it to his belt, and swung on the backpack. The thumping of the door continued, in an almost rhythmic pattern. Adam tried to ignore it.

“It’s not him, its not him, it’s not Lawrence…” Adam kept repeating to himself. But he just still feel Lawrence’s arms wrapped around him, hear his voice trying to calm him in hushed tones last night. Adam screwed his eyes shut, but the thumping just seemed louder. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up!” He screamed at the monster. “You’re not him! Lawrence is dead!” His voice broke on the last word, partly out of strain and partly out of fear. Who knew if all the commotion would attract more of the undead. All Adam knew was that he had to leave. Now. He stopped at the door. Last chance. He thought.

No.

Adam pushed out the back door, and the outside world was too bright, too alive, too mundane for what was happening. The sun was out, there were a few birds flying overhead. It didn’t feel like he had just left his friend for dead, or that his friend was more than likely a cannibalistic, mindless monster. Stop that. Adam thought to himself. It doesn’t matter how much I think about it, its still going to change anything. Might as well get used to it.

Adam ran around the corner, trying to come up with some kind of plan. He didn’t know if a car would be much use, especially if the highways were blocked. But he definitely wouldn’t last on foot, he knew he wasn’t fast enough.

After a few seconds hesitation, Adam decided on a car. The truck in the neighbors driveway had keys over the dashboard; he’d seen the girl get out of the car almost daily and stash them in the visor. He made a beeline for the truck. He reached the door, fumbling for the handle for a few moments before the door flung open. Adam jumped in, his hands shaking.

The keys.

Adam reached up, pulling down the visor and the truck keys fell into his lap. Something slammed into his window, making Adam jump. A bloody mass of flesh and teeth where pressed up against the window, its mouth opening and closing, trying to gnaw its way through the glass,. It’s rotten hands were reaching through the crack in the top of the window, and Adam started up the truck as fast as possible. The infected was reaching further in by the time Adam was able to back up out of the driveway, and in the process pulling off the creature’s arm as it was dragged backwards. As Adam drove off, he pushed the arm out, gagging. He swerved a little, getting himself back on the road. He looked back one last time in the rearview mirror.

He had to go find someone. Anyone. He didn’t want to be alone.

#funhaus #zombie AU #funhaus AU #my fic

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