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dragonnarrative-writes · 7 months ago

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Part 9 - Pneumothorax

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Accidental injury with knife, descriptions of wounds, wound care, field medicine, allusions/symptoms of lung collapse, blood, ingestion of bodily fluids, gagging

Something your nightmares have never been able to truly capture is just how unnervingly easy it is to push a knife through flesh. The smallest knife cuts through Simon’s skin easier than the MRE packaging. Something dangerous flickers behind his eyes as he looks down at where you’ve pushed the knife into the side of his chest.

Everything is eerily still for a moment. And then he looks back up at you and grins so hard you can tell through the mask.

The knife slips from between your numb fingers. It stays lodged between his ribs for a moment before falling to the ground. You scramble to your feet to stand over his still kneeling form. “Oh god. Simon.”

The way you’d slipped and rolled must have put the knife exactly where it needed to be to slide around his vest. His shirt underneath is ripped enough that you can see pale skin and so much red blood. The wound is bubbling, blood thinning in the cold rain. “Oh, god, Simon, what do I do?”

“Punctured a lung,” he whispers, barely a breath.

“You need a doctor,” you say, and it feels stupid, so obvious, but, “I don’t know where we are. How am I supposed to call for help?”

“’M okay, Precious,” he grunts. And then he stands up, like he’s not at risk of lung collapse. He points at the muddy backpack that flew from your shoulder as you’d grappled with him. “Get the bag.”

The bag? “We’re not playing games anymore!”

“’S got medical supplies in it,” Simon answers. He crouches down to pick up his own pack, and his chest makes a wet sound. “’N another gift for you. C’mon, we’ll go back to the cabin.”

Your heart is in your throat, but at least the cabin has running water. With the medical supplies, you can at least try to clean him up before driving him to the nearest hospital. Wherever that might be. You prop his arm over your shoulder and do your best to brace his good side.“Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

As you start to walk, the edge of the roof is barely in view through the drizzle. You’re so glad you were already on your way back to the cabin when he’d tackled you. Why did you have the knife out? You’d been playing with it, cutting shapes into a big leaf. He should have seen it, he’d run at you from the side. But that’s why he got you something so small, right? So someone attacking you wouldn’t see it, so you could have the element of surprise.

“Call Price,” Simon says, suddenly, knocking you out of your worried spiral.

You look up at him, then at the cabin that’s barely ten meters away. “What?”

“Use my phone. You know the code,” he says again, “Call Price, tell him we’re at the empty north cabin.”

Before you can ask “What?” again, or even, “Who the hell is Price?”, he starts slumping into you. And then all 18 stones of him are in a semi-controlled fall. You try your best to not drop him, gasp when he hisses as your arm presses against the hole in his chest.

The only thing in your head, as Simon slumps into the mud, his blood all over your hands, is that the weather didn't hold out the way you both expected.

Simon’s phone isn’t on him, or in his little knapsack. It’s one of the scariest things you’ve ever done, leaving him there in the dirt to run into the cabin. At the same time, it’s… familiar. Leaving a man to die while you call for help that can’t possibly arrive in time.

This is different. The first time you’d stabbed a man, you’d meant to do it.

The cabin is a little abandoned thing that Simon had fixed up a bit in the middle of nowhere. Outside of the room you’d woken up in, it has a wet room style toilet and shower and a counter with a hot plate. The rest of the weirdly clean little building is just one empty room leading to the only external door.

You hand shakes as you paw through the pile of stuff in one corner of the main room. Simon’s left his battered old phone in the pocket of his jeans, like he always does. Your hands shake as you punch in his passcode. You’re jogging back to his side as soon as you select the only named contact in the phone.

By the time someone picks up, you’re back on your knees by Simon’s side, relieved to see his eyes fluttering.

“Price,” a man answers.

“Hello?” You try not to let your voice get to frantic. “Simon’s hurt. He said to call you. We’re at the north cabin.”

“Empty,” Simon grunts, barely audible.

“The empty one,” you clarify. The line is silent. “Hello?”

“He’s wounded?” Price asks, cool and almost distracted.

“Punctured lung,” you say. “He passed out, but he’s kind of conscious now.”

The man on the other end hums. “That does sound a bit serious.”

“Please,” you insist. “I don’t know where we are, please call an ambulance.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” And then the line goes dead.

Your hands are shaking when you touch Simon’s face. “He hung up. Simon, I’m so sorry, he hung up. I don’t know if I can get you into the car. I don’t know if there’s enough time for anyone to get here.”

“’S fine, Precious,” he says, barely a whisper. He looks just as peaceful as if he was at home, in bed. The mud and blood and burbling chest wound ruin the illusion. “Been in worse shape’n this. Price’ll come.”

“We don’t need him here, we need you in a hospital!” It suddenly strikes you that Simon had mentioned medical supplies. “Should I try to stop the bleeding? Gauze and pressure, right?” You grab the backpack and tear it open. There’s gauze, antiseptic gel, and bandage wraps. You also find a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Splash of alcohol first,” Simon says, closing his eyes. When you slap him, he glares up at you with one eye. “Oi.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me!”

“’M no’. Just restin’ m’eyes.”

“Not that either!” The way his accent is becoming more pronounced, and his words more slurred, sets your already galloping heart racing. You uncap the alcohol and tip it, not at all gently, over the wound. “Stay awake.”

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon growls, followed by a pained wheeze. “Okay. Fuck. Gauze next, you’ll have to hold it down. Don’t have enough bandages and too much mud, besides.”

The first piece of gauze gets soaked with rain and blood immediately, so you open another couple of packages and press. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tell him over his hissing. Tears finally start catching up to you. “Simon, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon.”

“’S fine,” he sighs. One big, muddy hand comes up to pat your shoulder. “Shouldn’a come at you from the left. Better t’ stay low and come at you from the right.”

“I still might have stabbed you,” you protest. “I shouldn’t have had that stupid knife out, I should have known better-”

“You couldn’a known.”

“I should have,” you insist, and the tears are falling even faster now. “I didn’t need to be playing with knives, I knew you were out here, that you’d start chasing me any moment.”

“’S part of the game,” Simon sighs with a lazy grin. “Weren’ supposed t’ stab me in the chest, but tha’s on me.”

“I wasn’t supposed to stab you at all, Simon,” you sob. “I never wanted…! I don’t…!” Simon’s eyes flutter closed again, and you feel your heart break. “Simon, please, stay awake. I’m sorry. Please, Simon. I don’t hate you, I’m sorry.”

You're not sure how much time passes. But you jump when a hand touches your shoulder, whip around to put yourself between Simon and whoever’s come up behind you. A white man with a beard you would absolutely expect to see walking around in the woods looks between you and Simon with raised brows. He brings a cigar to his lips and takes a pull.

“Simon,” the man says. “You broken?”

“No, sir,” Simon says. When your gaze snaps to him, his eyes are bright behind his mask.

“She said you punctured a lung,” the man you can only assume is Price points out.

“Affirmative.”

“John Price,” he finally introduces himself. He offers you a hand up. When you look between his hand and where you’re keeping pressure on Simon’s wound, he chuckles. “Let’s get this drama queen inside, shall we?” Then Kyle appears at his elbow with a grin and an arm full of blue tarp.

“How’s the hobby search going?”

You can’t stop yourself from bursting into tears.

John Price had guided you inside while Kyle somehow maneuvered Simon onto the tarp to drag him the last few meters to the cabin. Now, there’s another tarp laid out on the floor, with Simon’s clammy, pale body on top of it. Knelt next to him, Kyle mutters something to himself, focused but relaxed. He’d complimented you on a clean strike, once he’d gotten Simon inside and cleaned the wound enough to look at it. Apparently, you probably could have done a lot of damage before killing him outright, if you’d really wanted to.

The sucking sound from Simon’s chest as he chuckled had made you run outside to throw up.

“You meet my girl, Skipper?” Simon eventually wheezes. There’s a big patch of of gauze taped over the wound. That side of him, from shoulder to hip, is the only part of him that’s really clean, besides his now-unmasked face. He winces when Kyle does something with the tubing sticking out of his chest. It’s still trickling blood, but that seems to be better than the flood from when Kyle had first pushed a thick needle between his ribs.

“I have,” John Price says, blowing a cloud of smoke. “You haven’t been keeping her here long. Surprised she stuck around to make sure you’d be okay.”

It strikes your ears as… absurd. The idea that Simon had whisked you away to this tiny, sparse little building for, what? For good? Nonsensically, you want to point out that there’s no kitchen, and Simon knows you like to prep and cook when you’re stressed. MREs wouldn’t cut it for long.

And then it occurs to you that John Price knows Simon. Knows him well enough that he expects you to die.

“She’s had Riley here on a leash for half a year,” Kyle informs him. He pats Simon’s cheek condescendingly, ignores his growl of annoyance. “Poor bastard’d been going mad, cooped up with nothing to do since Soap’s been locked up.”

“Eight months,” you whisper. You’re sitting on the edge of the tarp by Simon’s good side. You sip some water and offer it to Simon. He lets you tip the bottle carefully to his lips. “We met eight months ago.”

“Christ,” Price says, rolling his eyes. “I told you to keep a low profile.”

“’ave been,” Simon grunts.

“And, that little excursion at the ski lodge was what, exactly?”

Simon tilts his head to look at you, mischievous smirk under the black makeup around his eyes. “Had to make sure our first date was memorable.”

You want to smack him. The thought makes you feel guilty since you’ve already stabbed him today. You compromise by petting through his hair, right where the scar you gave him sits, then give his ear a little tug when you get to it.

“Hope it was worth it,” Price says. “You going to get rid of her, or am I?”

Simon is up and standing in front of John almost before you see him move. The back of him is still spattered with dirt and blood, silvery scars in stark contrast. You watch his chest expand, hear the whistle and bubble of air and blood through the tube you can’t see. You take one look at Kyle’s startled, worried face and quickly get to your feet.

When you come around his side, you shiver and shrink back a bit. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Simon’s face this frigid. He’s completely closed off as he stares down at Price, doesn’t even spare you a glance.

For his part, John remains completely relaxed. He takes a lazy pull from his cigar and blows the smoke from the side of his mouth, away from you. “Touched a nerve, have I?”

“She’s good people,” Kyle pipes up, coming to stand across from you, so everyone is in a loose square. He keeps his hands in his pockets. “Hasn’t made no trouble yet.”

John doesn’t look away from Simon. “That so?”

You reach out for Simon’s hand, then think better of it. You touch his back instead, in case he needs that hand. You step closer but stay a little bit behind him. “Simon?”

“She’s talked to the police, you know,” John says. “After your stint at the hospital, and again after your little date.”

That startles you. “I never-”

“Hush, now,” John says.

Simon flinches at the same moment that you feel your back straighten. “Excuse me?” You take a step forward into John’s space. “Maybe you forgot, but I called you here to help. If I wanted him dead, Simon would be dead right now. If I wanted him arrested six months ago, he’d have been arrested.”

“Precious-”

“No, Simon.” you interrupt him, staring into John’s eyes. “He practically lives in my apartment. He drugged and kidnapped me literally last night. He made me touch Brandon’s skull, and then I stabbed him this afternoon. I’ve been at the scene of two mass murders and now I’ve almost killed someone else. What the fuck makes you think you can come in here and talk about me like you know anything about me? Like you think I’m an idiot? Why do you think you get to shush me?”

The man doesn’t react except to pull from his cigar again. Your clothes are stiff and damp and uncomfortable, but you resist the urge to fidget. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Kyle look from you to John and back again.

“If you ever have him arrested, he’ll be out in a day,” John finally says. “You’ll be dead before then.”

“Oh gee,” you mock. “I wonder why that never occurred to me. Making the serial killer angry might get me killed. Shocking.”

Simon’s hand gently touches one of your wrists. “Easy, Precious. Price ‘s just lookin’ out.”

You let him take your hand. “He can do less of that, thank you very much.”

Simon reels you back against his front. He props his chin on top of your head and kind of sags some of his weight onto you. “Don’t think he can, love. Fundamentally incapable. Has to take care of his men.”

“Well he’s my man, now,” you grit out. “So you can fuck right off, John.”

For whatever reason, that cuts the tension. Kyle barks a laugh before he can stop himself. John tips his head back and huffs out smoke. Simon just presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Kyle told me you were a little off,” John says. He props a foot on his knee to stub out his cigar on the sole of his boot. “Simon’s been real tight lipped, but I see why he likes you. Not much self-preservation to speak of.”

Of all the stupid conclusions he could have come to…!

Simon’s hand covers your mouth before you can tell John exactly what you think of him. “She’s helping me find new hobbies.”

John just shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. Kyle, how long is he recovering?”

“Three weeks. Two, if he avoids aggravating it,” Kyle answers.

Simon hums. “’M gonna aggravate it.”

“Goddammit,” John swipes a hand down his beard. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.”

The murderous stalker isn’t the problem child? You snort behind Simon’s hand. Hopefully, you never meet this Soap guy.

“Fun as all of this is, I’m on shift in four hours,” Kyle says, looking at his watch. “Need to get home and sanitize. Riley, usual wound care. Drain’s gotta come out in three days. And you need antibiotics. Seriously.” He looks at you. “Make sure he gets them and takes them. All of them. His feet will fall off.”

“No they won’t,” you say when Simon drops his hand to wrap around your shoulders, just as he says, “Fuck off, Garrick.”

“Take the damn antibiotics,” John says, standing from his seat. “Be ready for a call in three weeks.”

“Affirmative.”

“And you,” John holds a hand out to you to shake. Waits for you to take it and gives a firm shake. “Let me know if you get tired of him hangin’ all over you.”

“So you can kill me.”

He gives you an amused grin. “I’m not in the practice of wasting valuable assets.”

“I’m sure you meant that in a way that’s not offensive,” you answer. “I’ll do my best to never call you again.”

“Smart girl.” He gives Simon a nod, and then he and Kyle are out the front door.

The shower head sputters and spits, but eventually produces surprisingly warm water. Not hot, but warm enough that you don’t feel bad herding Simon in to get clean. Warm enough that you groan when you step in with him.

There’s a silicone bulb hanging from the tube in Simon’s armpit, compressed to create some kind of vacuum. It’s pink with blood and other fluids. It doesn’t seem to bother him, so you use your hands to gently wash you both with a generic body wash. When you start rinsing dirt and an errant piece of leaf litter from your hair, he smirks and leans in until your back is pressed against the cold tile.

“Fuck,” you can’t help but panic. Your hands go to his hips in case he’s losing his balance. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just braces the arm on his wounded side over your head. The drain site looks a little red, but not concerning, so you check the edges of the waterproof bandage Gaz placed to make sure it’s still set.

That’s why you don’t realize what he’s done until a splash of his blood hits your cheek and drips into your mouth. You can’t really rear back, trapped against the wall. All you can do tilt your face away and sputter as he empties the drain onto the side of your neck to drip down your collarbones.

He grunts a disagreeing sound when you lift your arm, catches your hand before you can lift it very far. His hand comes up to your cheek, two fingers touching where his blood has dripped to your chin. He pushes his hips into you, and you can feel where he’s getting hard.

When he speaks, it’s little more than a whisper. “You were supposed to slash my arm, you know.”

“Wha-”

He’s not gentle when he shoves his fingers into your mouth. For all that he was laid out on the floor less than an hour ago, you can’t force his hand away with both of yours. It’s all you can do try to fight the urge to gag as you barely hold him at bay.

“Knew you’d like the gifts,” he growls down at you. “But you were s’possed to slash, hm? That’s what a good girl like you does, chased in the woods. Easy to drop a knife that way.” He uses his fingers in your mouth and thumb under your chin to make you stare up into his eyes. “Where’s a sweet thing like you learn to keep a knife close to the body? Felt you let it slide, flat. Felt you push.”

Had you? You hadn’t felt it, just the anxiety spike of being attacked, the cradle of his hand shielding your head from the ground. Just his huge body and that skull mask, on you suddenly, without warning. You can’t answer, can’t even try without gagging. Simon gives your jaw a little shake.

“You could have killed me, today.” He grinds your body between his and the wall for a moment, before stepping back. He drags you under the spray of water, other hand cradling the back of your head. You struggle to cough, try to turn your face down. Your heart races as you do, knowing it’s only because he let you.

And then he slips his fingers from your mouth and brings your face to his chest. He holds you as you cough, pets over your back. You cling to him, because what else can you do? When you finally look up at him, his pupils have all but swallowed the blue of his eyes.

“Fear looks so good on you, Precious.”

Taglist: @mishaglass, @oceanicexolorer, @whitetiger846, @iknownothingpeople, @fruitdoom, @achillesquartz, @hindi-si-ikay, @ahopelesspedantic

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #cod #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #simon riley x you smut #manic pixie dream ghost #gaz appreciation nation #price is right #this one was a monster and fought me every step of the way #but it's finally here #i did a lot of research for this one but i'm not a doctor

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call-me-strega · 11 days ago

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How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: ch.4/5 of p.2

First, prev, next, lore, ao3,

I've already said it but thank you for all your wonderful comments and for engaging with my story. It really motivated me to finish up this chapter. I hope you all enjoy and Happy (early) Halloween! As a bonus I'm also releasing some memes for this chapter here.

This chapter a heat wave overtakes Gotham and causes some trouble, but at least Jason gets a title upgrade.

~~~

"Uggh! How is summer in Gotham so miserable that I'm still sweating buckets in the rec center? It has AC?!" John complained, setting down the box he was holding. He stopped, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and tying his hair up in a circle man-bun. "I swear I can feel my hair sweating!"

"Hah! Sucks to suck whiteboy! Maybe if you chopped off that mop, you'd be less sweaty!" Irene taunted, hoisting a box onto her shoulder.

"Well, we can't all just decide to shave it off the second we get bored of our braids, now can we Irene!" Johnny fought back, lifting his box with new vigor. "Some of us had to work for this kinda hair growth!"

"Like I said, 'sucks to suck'! Get good whiteboy!"

She stuck out her tongue as she trotted past him.

Jason sighed as he dragged two of his own boxes out of the truck and followed behind.

"Would you two quit yer yapping? Yer hot cause we've been moving in and out, carrying boxes in the middle of a recorded breaking heatwave during a Gotham summer. And, might I add, that I'd like to finish moving this shipment in on schedule, ya know before my skin melts off? So that I can actually enjoy the industrial-strength air conditioner we installed in this place? Plus, you know Fern won't be happy if they find out that all the equipment for the new kitchens and cooking classes didn't get set up 'cause you two were too busy trying to goad each other into a rumble."

The pair stiffened.

Fern was 152 pounds of rage, spite, and mischief, condensed into a 5'2" package, decorated with kitties, glitter, and spikes.

Neither of them wanted to see Fern mad.

They promptly stopped their bickering and rushed toward the kitchens, mumbling complaints under their breaths.

"Who even says rumble anymore," John muttered. "S.E. Hinton much."

Jason rolled his eyes, gently bumping the door with his hip to keep it open. He walked over to the table where they had piled the rest of the boxes, setting them down with a soft grunt. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt, using it to wipe his brow as the three of them took a brief pause in the kitchens to catch their breath.

That's when a ringtone went off.

"Huh? Whose phone was that?" Irene questioned glancing between Jason and John. "Did one of you change your ringtones?"

Jason knew exactly who it was.

He flushed slightly as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, hoping in vain that neither would notice his embarrassment. Irene sidled up to him with a smirk.

"Who's that? Your hot neighbor-dad crush?" she teased with a cheshire grin. "Did you set a special ringtone for him lover-boy!?"

Jason defensively tried to hide his phone.

"Maybe? And what if I did!? Now back off and let me pick up!"

He shoved the smug girl off him as he picked up the phone.

"Hey neighbor," Jason gave his customary greeting, fully expecting Danny to give it back. Instead, he was met with panicked breaths and an anxious little girl's voice.

"Mr. Jason? That's you, right?"

Jason's hackles instantly rose.

"Yes, it's me, Ellie, it's Mr. Jason. Is something wrong sweetie? Where's your dad? Why do you have his phone?"

"You like to help us right? Daddy said you told him we could come to you for help. You'll help, right?"

"Yes, Ellie I did say that. I promise I'll help, but you need to tell me where your dad is, okay? Can you take a deep breath for me sweetheart? What's going on munchkin?"

John and Irene exchanged nervous glances, responding to the way Jason tensed up. They watched on apprehensively, the mood quickly growing somber. This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that one of them picked up a call and had to ask questions like these.

"Huuup-haaah, - um well, Daddy took me to the park, the one with the purple swings, because I really wanted to play today, and Sasha said they were doing soccer today and I really wanted to go. And, and I made Daddy run around with me even though he was getting tired. And then Daddy said he was getting too hot, so he was gonna rest, b-but he fell before he got to the bench and he- he's not getting up."

The young girl explained, fighting back tears.

"Hey- hey, Ellie, Ellie! I want you to listen to me, okay? First things first, I'm proud of you for reaching out to me when you knew you needed help, okay. That's a very responsible and big girl move. Next, I need you to understand that this isn't your fault, okay? Sometimes the hot weather can make people sick just like cold weather can."

"Mmm-hmm," she sniffled.

"Great. Next, I need you to find an adult at the park you can trust. Is your friend Sasha's mom nearby?"

"Yes."

"Good. Here's what you're gonna do: When I'm done talking, you're gonna go up to Sasha's mom and tell her your dad needs help. Tell her that she needs to call the VPA, okay? The V-P-A. Try to cool your dad off, maybe get him some water. If he can't drink it's fine to pour it on him since it'll still help cool off. I'm going to come get you so I can help. Stay with your dad and Sasha's mom until I get there, alright?"

"Alright, Mr. Jason."

"Good girl, can you repeat back to me what I said?"

"I need to go to Sasha's mom and tell her Daddy needs help. I need to tell her to call the VeePeeAay. I should try to cool Daddy off and stay with Sasha's mom till you come to help us."

"That's right. Good job, Elle! You're such a big, strong girl! I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Jason. Please hurry."

"I will sweetie. Promise."

Jason hung up the call.

"I'm sorry guys, but I gotta ditch. It's an emergency. Neighbor's daughter called saying he passed out after playing with her at the park. It's probably heat exhaustion. Hopefully, the Volunteer Paramedics Association will have sent someone by the time I get there."

He promptly had a pair of car keys shoved into his chest. He made eye contact with John to see him giving him a serious look.

"Take my car, Jay. From the sounds of it, it'll probably serve you better than your bike. Don't worry about returning it. I know you'll have Hood get it back to me when you can."

Jason gave him a look of appreciation. "Thanks, Johnny," he said, turning to leave. He looked back at Irene, who nodded at him in determination.

"Get outta here! We'll cover for ya. We can handle the rest of the delivery ourselves. Now go help your lover boy, lover-boy!"

He nodded in thanks before rushing out the door. He hopped in turning the AC on full blast and taking off.

Jason tore through traffic as fast as he could, breaking several minor traffic laws along the way. He hastily parked and rushed through the park looking for the Nightingales.

She said the park with purple swings. Ellie was playing soccer, so they'll be near the field.

He scanned the area as he approached. Suddenly he felt like his blood froze as he locked onto a small crowd formed near a tree. He assessed the crowd: a few parents, a couple of kids, two people in paramedic uniforms, and them.

Jason marched over, pushing through the crowd with one single-minded purpose echoing in his head: Help them.

He could see that the paramedics had laid Danny down and elevated his feet on a balled-up picnic blanket. His face was sweaty and red, his eyes barely open as one of the paramedics helped a pleading Ellie coax him into taking a few sips from a bottle of water. Another used a small hand fan borrowed from a parent in the crowd to cool him.

He pushed forward, reaching out a hand to call to Ellie, only to be stopped by a hand hastily pressing against his chest. A small portion of him grew enraged as he turned to see who stopped him.

'Who dares stop us from getting to our people!'

A tall, lean woman in a t-shirt and athletic pants. Judging by the age lines on her face she was likely in her late-30s, maybe early-40s. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and her face was just as severe, promising pain if she deemed it necessary. She spoke first.

"I don't know who you are, but you can't go over there. Don't get in the way."

"Tch! Let me through. I'm here for them." he growled out.

The woman tensed.

"Look I don't know what you want from them, but that man is in no position to give you whatever you're after." Her face grew more dangerous. "And don't even think about getting near the girl."

That's when Jason belatedly realized he had had his mission face on the entire time. This woman mistook him for some sort of collector or enforcer. She was trying to protect them. He felt himself warm up to her a bit, releasing some of the tension from his body. He had to explain to her why he was actually here.

"Look ma'am it's not like tha-"

"YOU'RE HERE!" a small voice interrupted.

Ellie promptly attached herself to Jason's leg. Jason bent down wrapping his arms around her. He stroked her hair, trying to reassure her.

"I promised I would be, didn't I?"

"Ahem," the woman glanced between him and Ellie with a slightly reproachful glint in her eyes. She addressed Ellie first.

"Ellie dear, do you know this man?" 'And are you safe with him?' her eyes asked. Ellie nodded in response.

"This is Uncle Jason. He lives in the same building as us, near me and Dad. He came to help us b'cause I asked him too. He's the one who told me to ask you for help."

Jason expertly masked any surprise he felt over the new title Ellie had given him, which implied a level of trust and familiarity he wasn't 100% convinced he'd earned just yet. He simply nodded in agreement, waiting for the woman to confirm his theories on her identity.

"I am Katrina Malone; my daughter Sasha is friends with Ellie. We all live in the same building apparently. You can call me Trina." She addressed him this time, holding out her hand. Jason shook it, nodding at her once.

"Jason. Ellie called me in a panic, and I got over here as fast as I could." He returned. She simply nodded in acknowledgment.

That's when one of the paramedics approached them. Jason recognized them as one of the kids that apprenticed with Dr. Thompkins, Emilio something-or-other.

"Ah, Jason! I'd say it's nice to see you but, well..." He glanced back at Danny. "If I overheard correctly, you're here for the patient?"

"Yes, I am."

"Ah-well, it's a pretty bad case of heat exhaustion. My guess is that he hasn't been sleeping right or enough. We've cooled him about as much as we can, but it would be ideal if we could get him indoors, preferably somewhere with air conditioning. That is assuming you don't want to take him to the hospital."

Jason nodded along. "I brought a car with me. I can take them home; we live next door to each other, and I definitely have AC. I can accommodate them just fine."

"Great. We've already administered some first aid, but keep in mind for once you get back that he should be kept in a cool environment. Try to elevate his feet if you can and have him drink something with electrolytes. Handle him gently when helping him move. He didn't hurt anything much when he fainted, but his head and side may be a bit tender."

Jason stood up and walked over to Danny, Ellie trailing behind him. His face was considerably less red, but he was still barely conscious. Danny cracked his eyes open and looked up at him with through his eyelashes. He managed to mutter out a weak "Hey" before trailing off, unable to remain fully cognizant.

"Easy does it, your highness," Jason whispered as he went to pick up Danny.

He slid an arm under his knees, the other supporting his back and hefted him up off the ground, holding him close to his chest. He dismissed the paramedics and said a quick goodbye to Trina before turning to Ellie.

"Come on princess, let's get you dad home."

He led her to the car, carefully buckling into the two most precious pieces of cargo Jason had ever transported. And then they were off.

Jason gently placed Danny down on his bed, taking great care to make sure he was comfortable. Ellie, in an attempt to be helpful, shoved a cushion under her dad's feet. Jason couldn't help but give her a slight smile at the cute gesture. He reached over and gently ruffled her hair, before moving around the room.

First, he double checked that his AC was working, even setting it to a lower than he normally used. Then, he dragged out some folding chairs he kept in his closet for the sake of convenience. One for him and one for Ellie. He set them up next to the bed and gestured to Ellie to go ahead and sit. Finally, he went to his kitchen.

'He needs something simple and easy to eat that will help rehydrate and cool him off ', he thought.

Jason ended up going with some simple orange slices with a sprinkle of sea salt and the light blue Gatorade (he refused to call it "frost glacier freeze". It was light blue, goddammit!). He set them on a tray with some pretzels, hummus, and carrots that he cut up into little sticks for Ellie.

He walked back into the bedroom, placing the tray on the side table.

"Come on munchkin, you've had a lot of excitement huh? Come have a snack. I'll watch your dad."

She looked up hesitantly, glancing between Jason and her dad.

"He'll be alright sweetheart. He just needs some rest."

Eventually, Jason managed to coax her into eating while he attempted to get Danny to drink some of the Gatorade. Danny managed to pull himself into consciousness long enough to drink a fourth of the bottle and stomach a few orange slices. Before he went out again, he managed enough energy to reassure Ellie he'd be better after a nap, and lock eyes with Jason briefly saying "thanks" and then he was out again.

Ellie finished her snack and hopped up onto the bed, laying down next to her dad. She left some space between them but reached out to hold his hand as he slept. She looked at him from her place on the bed and murmured a small voice, "Thank you 'ncle Jas'n."

Jason felt his heart clench. He wanted to ask her why she had called him that. To ask if she really trusted him that much. Could he really say he deserved the opportunity to become such an important figure in her life?

"You're welcome sweetheart," he whispered back instead, letting her rest with her dad.

Jason decided to step out of the room at that point. He went to sit in the living room for a bit to try to get his thoughts in order. He updates John and Irene on the situation, thanking John again for the use of his car, then heads to the kitchen to whip up a quick lunch. Something the Nightingales could eat when they woke up. He ended up making some fruit salad, ham and cheese roll-ups, and using some left-over grilled chicken to make chicken pesto sandwiches with tomato and mozzarella. The rhythmic motions of his knife calmed him as he mulled over the day's events.

'Her actions were calculated. She wanted to express her trust in me so that her friend's mom would ease up and let me help,' he analyzed. 'But... but there was no hesitation or unease. She knew what she was doing and did it anyway. I- I want to make the most of her actions. I'll prove I deserve the trust she placed in me. '

Once he was finished, Jason carefully stored the food in his fridge before going to check on the father-daughter duo.

Jason cracked the door open, peaking in at the pair sleeping soundly on his bed. He walked over to one of the chairs he'd set up earlier, quiet as an assassin. He sat as softly as he could and observed the pair.

Danny's complexion had greatly improved, beginning to return to his normal color. His chest slowly moved up and down and his calm face was at peace. Likewise, once Ellie had fallen asleep her worry melted off her face, leaving a calm expression so different from her usual boundless energy. She looked so much like her father it was almost uncanny.

Sitting there looking at the two, absolutely relaxed and trusting nothing would happen as they lay in his bed, Jason came to a realization. One he honestly should have expected sooner or later what with his Big Realization, last week. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

'I want to protect them.' he thought. 'When Ellie called me, I was so scared something was wrong. But the two of them are safe with me. In my apartment. In my bed. I don't want to lose this trust. I don't want to lose them.

Jason woke up with a crick in his neck.

He groaned, straightening himself out and cursing himself for falling asleep sitting. Couldn't he have at least fallen asleep on the couch? He stands up from the chair, stretching out his back. 'It's nearly 5', he thinks as he checks the time. They've all been asleep for around 3 hours. 'Oh well, at least I'll be rested for patrol later’ he thinks, heading to the kitchen to go eat something, never mind the fact that it won't be dark for a few more hours.

He pulls out the lunch he made earlier, serving himself a portion. It's closer to dinner now but he'd be damned if he let food go to waste. As he was eating, he heard the sound of light groans and shifting coming from his room. Abandoning his plate Jason gets up and goes to check on the Nightingales.

He opens the door to see the pair sitting up in his bed, both rubbing the tiredness out of their eyes in the same way.

Like father, like daughter, huh?

"Feeling better your highness?" He says leaning up against the wall.

In unison, the two stare at him with wide, innocent eyes before smiling those smiles that never fail to make Jason's heart melt.

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you so much for taking care of us Jason. I'm sorry to have worried you," Danny began, a finger coming up to scratch his cheek as if trying to dust his embarrassed blush away like a few stray crumbs. "I've had some health issues in the past which make me more susceptible to the heat. I really should have planned better, even if it did get hotter than I thought it would. I must have given you and Ellie a big scare, huh?"

He turned to his daughter pulling her into his chest. She hugged him back for a few seconds before abruptly pulling away. Danny stared at her in shock only to find her pouting. Ellie scrambled off the bed and made her way to Jason. She indicated for him to pick her up. He obliged. Once she was in his arms, she reached up awkwardly hugging his face to show her dad and gave him an ultimatum.

"You scared us both, daddy! If you don't take care of yourself and scare us again like that, then me'n Uncle Jason will just move in together until you learn to take care of yourself! So, if you don't wanna be lonely, you better not scare us again!"

'What is she saying!?’ Jason sweat-dropped, nervously staring at Danny's shocked expression.

"Is that right, Uncle Jason?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Fuck what am I supposed to do now!?'

"Uuuh- uh, yeah! Me and munchkin here will just stay together if you don't take care of yourself!" He wondered what the hell he was thinking as he doubled down on her words.

"So, please," he continued genuinely pleading, "We care about you, try to take better care of yourself."

Or at least let me help.

Danny gave a bemused chuckle, getting off the bed. He sauntered over to Ellie and Jason, wrapping his arms around both of them. His face slid into the gap between Jason and Ellie's, fitting in easily as a puzzle piece. Jason couldn't see his face anymore, but he could practically feel the affection rolling of the man in waves. Danny squeezed them tight before speaking.

"Alright. I promise to take better care of myself. I don't want to worry either of you."

"Pinky promise daddy?"

Danny pulled back and extended his pinkie out to his daughter.

"Pinky promise, Ell."

His pinkie was larger than hers, wrapping her own finger like a hug. Keeping their hands in place, Ellie turned her unwavering gaze to Jason.

"You too, Uncle Jason."

Jason agreed, giving her a slight smile.

"Alright, me too."

Jason brought up the hand that wasn't supporting Ellie's weight and wrapped his own finger around Danny and Ellie's. His finger was bigger, thicker, rougher, and covered them nearly perfectly. He almost felt like he was acting as a protective barrier, which he felt wasn't an unappealing thing to be.

Eventually, they all had to let go. Jason, remembering that they hadn't eaten properly, led them to the kitchen. The three managed to easily fall into a comforting and familiar atmosphere.

Once the Nightingales finished eating with Jason they returned to their own apartment. They stood in Jason's doorway stretching out their goodbyes.

"I really can't thank you enough for all your help, Jason. Is there anything I can do to pay you back for this? I'm just so thankful for all your help."

"Hey now, I already told you there's no need. Really, I was happy to help."

"Oh, but I insist."

"Look, it really wasn't that big a deal but if you really insist, I'll accept some more of that fudge you gave me," Jason joked.

"Deal. I'll make a special batch just for you," Danny replied with a light blush dusting his nose.

He leaned over, giving Jason a brief hug.

"Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Danny."

"Me too!"

Both of them looked down at Ellie before glancing at each other. In unison, they bent down and took her in their arms.

"Good night, Ellie," Jason spoke softly. Her small hand tightened its grip.

"Good night, Uncle Jason."

With that, Danny and Ellie went back to their apartment. Jason closed his door, sitting on the floor with his back against it, his head cradled in his hands, and pondered these newfound desires swirling in his chest.

'What do I do now?'

~~~

Okay y'all that's all for this chapter. I hope it was enjoyable. Let me know if you think the flow and pacing is going well. As always, I'm open to constructive criticism. Also, I'm thinking about adding an extra to the series where I go over my visions for some of the side character OCs so if you are interested in more info on them or to see anyone in particular, let me know.

#long post #hbsd #HBSD #How to Become a Step-Dad #How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps #ao3 #ao3 link #dead on main #danny fenton x jason todd #de aged ellie #congrats on arriving to the sicfic portion of the story!#Danny passed out from heat exhaustion partially due to his ice core #finally putting my first aid certification to use lol #those are all (mostly) accurate steps to deal with heat exhaustion #some big steps were taken here

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