#i kinda wanted to wait and find a first aid month prompt that it fit….

[charlie-artlie]

more knightformers texaid, this time inspired by the lovely lovely fic from @thebirdkiwi >:] plz go read it if you havent already it’s so good!!!!!

and, as always, knightformers belongs to the wonderful @archie-sunshine

[lefaystrent]

Nursing Home au

Patton works at the nursing home as a registered nurse, because the man truly cares for people.

He oversees the activities of the rest of the nursing staff, and he’s always keeping them in high spirits.

There’s a vacancy for a nursing aide. Who could possibly fill that position?

It’s Virgil.

At first, Patton honestly doesn’t think Virgil should have been hired there.

Patton had seen Virgil during the hiring process, and his personality didn’t seem like a … good fit. Too closed-off and kinda gruff, and probably not a good bedside manner, right?

Plus there was that criminal record to consider …

But the nursing home administrator hires him anyway, and Virgil joins the staff.

Patton keeps a close eye on Virgil.

Yes he feels guilty, but even Patton isn’t free from prejudices.

Virgil goes about his work very meticulously.

He arrives five minutes early every day, without fail.

He never complains about the tasks he’s been given, just quietly accepts them in a way that makes Patton and the others wonder what he’s really thinking.

He doesn’t talk casually with the other staff much, giving short answers whenever prompted.

Patton worries about the staff’s morale as a team.

Surprisingly, he starts hearing a lot of praise about Virgil. Not from the other staff members, but from the patients themselves.

One of them, a man named Roman, sounds like he’s complaining about him.

“And then he started criticizing my favorite movies!”

“I’m so sorry sir, I’ll talk to him about that.”

“What are you talking about? Kid had some good points. I like him.”

Patton starts subtly bringing up Virgil in conversations while visiting with the patients. For some, he doesn’t even have to warm up to the subject. They stop him in the hallway.

“Patton hun, you know that new boy with the eye-makeup?”

“Yes ma’am, that would be Virgil.”

“He’s so sweet. He helped me with my phone, it’s one of those smart ones? It wasn’t working right, and he fixed it. He’s a smart boy.”

The biggest sign is when one patient—Logan Crofters, who’s a notorious nitpicker—actually voices his approval of Virgil.

“He’s not an idiot,” is all Logan says on the matter, which coming from him, it’s high praise.

Patton doesn’t really understand yet why the patients have taken such a liking to him, but he endeavors to try harder to see who Virgil really is. Mostly he’s glad that his first impression seems to be wrong.

Virgil, for his part, doesn’t understand why the patients like him either.

He just knows that they do.

One of them goes out of their way to call him over to ask for his opinion on what color scarf to knit for their granddaughter.

Another one makes a point to introduce him to their visiting family.

Lots of them seem to like to talk his ear off in general and give him life advice.

Virgil doesn’t really mind it. He’s not used to people wanting to talk to him so much, and to be honest he could use some of the advice.

And the stories they have to share are kinda wild.

He likes bantering with the one old dude, Roman.

“I’ll have you know I’ve killed many a dragon witch in my day.”

“Was this before or after you went senile?”

“Brat.”

“Old fart.”

And then there’s Logan, the elderly man in a wheelchair. He’s probably the smartest man Virgil has ever talked to.

“You’d be surprised how many people assume I’m stupid.”

“You’re in a wheelchair, not braindead dude.”

“Yes, but I am old and crippled, and many people cannot separate physical inadequacy from mentality.”

“Well most people are idiots.”

Logan shows off his dentures in a rare grin.

After those two, there’s Remus.

Even the other staff members warn Virgil in advance about him.

It takes Virgil a month into working there to realize that he’s Roman’s brother.

It really should have been obvious.

“Virgil, where would you bury a body?”

“Why bury it when you can just burn it? Or feed it to some pigs; they’ll eat anything.”

“… oh, I like you.”

Okay, not so obvious, because Remus is a crazy old coot. But he’s got a lot of ideas and grand stories like Roman, only darker themed.

Virgil is convinced Remus is fucking with him to get a reaction out of him.

“He only says all that to get a rise out of you,” Logan confirms.

Challenge accepted.

Virgil continues being a bomb ass nurse.

He’s always super self conscious around his superior, Patton.

He knows Patton is wary of him and Virgil is terrified of messing up in front of him.

Or messing up in general. Poor babe really is too hard on himself.

Even the patients worry about him from time to time.

“You getting enough sleep at night, son? Ya got bags under your eyes!”

“That’s makeup, sir. You know that’s my makeup.”

“Hahaha, but it was funny, right? But seriously, are you sleeping enough?”

And Virgil can’t count how many times they’ve thrown food at him.

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat more.”

“I already eat a lot. I’ve got a high metabolism.”

“Is that one of those social media sites?”

“Roman, if you don’t stop acting stupid—”

“Kidding! I have an Instagram after all. Which you should totally follow me, by the way.”

It’s like suddenly being adopted and Virgil is now the grandson to many old folk.

He’s not even surprised when someone tries to set him up with one of their grandchildren.

What does surprise him is that it’s Logan.

“You should meet my grandson, Remy. Judging from what I’ve observed of your personality, you two would be compatible.”

“Huh, that’s funny, Roman’s got a grandson named Remy too.”

“Yes, Remy is both our grandson.”

“Wait, what?”

“We used to be married, Roman and I. Didn’t you know he was my ex-husband?”

Somehow Virgil has missed that.

But he is so going to grill them for details, because Roman with Logan?

Roman jumps on board when Virgil brings it up.

“Yes! Remy! You would be perfect for him! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first!”

Virgil laughs it off because they can’t be serious.

Of course, they’re very serious.

Virgil is doing his rounds when he walks into Roman’s room and a guy not too far off from his own age standing there in a leather jacket and shades.

“Oh, you are cute,” the guy says in a way that lets Virgil know that he’s clearly heard about Virgil before.

Roman is exceedingly proud.

Virgil officially meets Remy, the grandson.

It’s awkward.

By the end of it, Virgil apparently has a date after work that he swears he doesn’t remember agreeing to.

Remy’s waiting for him in the lobby.

“You ready for the night of your life, babe?”

“…”

“Wait, you’re walking the opposite direction. Come back.”

Virgil goes out to eat with Remy.

Remy actually apologizes for his grandfathers.

“They’re cool old gay dudes, but they can be really pushy. They’ve been complaining about me being single for like yeaaars. Um, maybe I like being single?”

“Do you?”

“Okay, a bitch is lonely, but gurl, I can find a man or whoever on my own, amirite?”

“Why’d you agree to this then?”

“’Cause you really are cute and seem cool. Plus can we just talk about your aesthetic for a sec? What products do you use on your hair? The purple dye is perf.”

It’s not really a date.

But Virgil might have made a friend out of it, at least.

Virgil finds himself talking about it the next day with Patton.

It just sort of happens.

“They set me up with their grandson.”

“Oh Remy? You’ve met him?”

“Yeah…”

“Well? How’d it go?”

“Uh … I’m not sure? Like, I’m pretty sure we established it wasn’t really a date. But I think we might …”

“Might what?”

“Be … friends?”

“That’s nice, Virgil,” Patton says in a way that Virgil can tell he means it.

Virgil shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m gonna tell his granddads though. Their gonna jump on me as soon as they see me. God old people love to gossip more than teenagers.”

“Just try to let them down easy, okay? They really adore Remy and just want him to be happy.”

It’s the first conversation Virgil has with him that doesn’t make him nervous.

The days go by and Virgil is starting to feel like he’s really settling in.

He still doesn’t understand why the patients like him so much.

Not until Patton finally sheds some insight.

It’s a busy enough day, and then Remus has one of his episodes.

He’s screaming and the other staff members who are more experienced with dealing with him are trying to settle him down.

Virgil hears the commotion from down the hall and comes running into the day room where all the patients gather and visit or watch tv.

“He gets like this sometimes,” Logan tells him. Roman sits silently beside him holding his hand, lips pressed in a thin white line and eyes not looking away from the chaotic scene.

Remus is throwing things at the nurses, yelling something about how the lights are trying to eat him.

“It’s best to stay back, Virgil,” Logan tells him.

Virgil doesn’t listen.

He goes and turns off the lights.

There’s still enough sunlight filtering in through the windows, enough to see. But everyone looks around.

Virgil pushes through the other staff.

He nudges Patton aside who had been attempting to console him.

Patton wants to pull him back. Remus is in a vulnerable state of mind right now and it could be bad for either of them.

But Virgil leans in and starts talking in a low voice to Remus.

And … it’s working.

Remus’s screams taper off.

He doesn’t look any less confused or scared. Just subdued.

“I want to go,” he says, eyes looking through everyone there. “Want to go back to my room now. Want to go back.”

“Okay, we can go, Remus. Let’s go,” Virgil says and guides him out.

It’s a slow process, but they make it to his room, Patton hovering close the entire way.

They give Remus a mild sedative to help him relax.

When Virgil walks out of the room, Roman is standing there.

He doesn’t say anything to Virgil, but he claps a hand on his shoulder.

There’s gratitude glistening in his eyes.

Roman goes into the room.

Virgil leaves for the break room. He’s definitely earned a break.

Plus his hands are kind of shaking, but shhhhh, don’t tell anyone.

After a long time, Patton comes into the room.

He sits at the table with Virgil.

“He’ll be fine,” Patton assures him.

“I didn’t say I was worried for him.”

Patton smiles and shakes his head.

“They all love you, you know?” he surprises Virgil by saying. “The patients. You do a lot of good by them.”

Virgil shrugs. “I don’t see why. I’m just me. Just doing my job. Nothing special.”

“You treat them like people.”

Patton leans closer over the table. Virgil doesn’t look away.

“You listen to them. And you talk to them, like they’re people. And for them, these people who have lost a lot of their independence and are often left forgotten here by even their own families—that’s worth a lot.”

Virgil doesn’t know if he believes all that.

But it’s a nice thought.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [III/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

We’re officially halfway done with this modern AU colleagues to friends to lovers! In today’s update:  Ben leaves a board meeting armed with the perfect excuse to go visit Rey. (Fun fact: Leia and Amilyn sit on the board, and they have enough eyes and ears in the building to get all the latest gossip...)

Chapter 2 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Employee engagement efforts

Hi Rey,

I just met with the board this morning, and one of the things they want us to work on is our employee engagement. I’m guessing yours is the relevant department for me to go to on this. Would it be okay for me to drop by your office sometime today to get the discussion started? I’m free any time after lunch.

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Employee engagement efforts

Hey Ben,

Sure! I’ve actually been looking into that too, so I’ve got some ideas I’d love to bounce off you. I’m free at 3PM, see you then!

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 A shadow falls upon her office two minutes before 3PM, and Rey looks up to find the increasingly familiar sight of Ben Solo hovering in her doorway.

“Hey,” he says, and Rey blinks at the realization that she’s happy to hear his voice again, even if it is a tiny bit hesitant as he takes in the sight of her surrounded by folders and print-outs. “Is this a good time?”

“Oh, right,” Rey mutters as she looks at the somewhat-organized mess she’s made. “Come on in, I’ll just-“ She makes quick work of putting everything together into a single stack on the corner of her desk while Ben closes the door behind him and settles into his spot opposite her.

Rey looks up from her task and greets him with a grin that feels just the slightest bit too big on her face. “Hi.”

It’s hard to be self-conscious when Ben returns the gesture with a huge smile of his own, though. “Hi.”

She’s not sure how long they would’ve remained frozen like that, just smiling at each other in silence, if Rose hadn’t startled them with a barely muffled shriek of laughter from beyond the door. But she does, and the whole thing does a rather good job of snapping them both out of their unexpected little moment.

“So,” Rey says as Ben clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. “Employee engagement. Any ideas?”

Ben shrugs even as he gives her a sheepish little smile. “I was kinda hoping you’d have some, actually. Or maybe you could walk me through what my mom and Amilyn used to do?”

It’s a bit of a surprise, hearing Ben address her predecessor so familiarly when she’d remained Ms. Holdo to nearly everyone in the foundation up until the day she retired, but a hazy memory of Amilyn mentioning her godson in passing once quickly pushes its way to the forefront of Rey’s mind.

“Oh, sure! Amilyn implemented a lot of ideas over the years, she liked to call them ‘bonding opportunities’, but I think my personal favorite was probably how Leia and Han used to invite everyone over for…”

Rey trails off at Ben’s sharp inhale, and it takes every single bit of willpower she has not to clap a hand over her mouth in horror at her thoughtlessness. It’d taken most of them months, nearly a year, before their grief had run its course, before they could smile at fond memories rather than mourn lost moments. Even she still struggles to remain unaffected by Han’s memory sometimes – so why, why hadn’t she considered how his son might feel before so casually invoking him?

It’s not easy, forcing herself to look at Ben, but when she does she’s surprised to find a tiny smile on his lips and a faraway look in his eyes. “The cookouts,” he murmurs. “I remember those – Mom basically jumped at any opportunity to have everyone over, and Da- Dad always grumbled that she only liked it because he was the one who had to do all the cooking.”

Her heart cries out at his little stumble, at the reminder that this is the son who gave up everything about his former life the night his dad died and ended a ten-year cold war between him and his family just so he could rush home and be by his mom’s side. Somehow, that part always gets left out in the many retellings of Ben Solo’s troubled past.

“She- they kept up the tradition for that long?” Ben asks her, looking pleasantly surprised. “There must’ve been at least a hundred people crammed into the yard by then–” He laughs at the thought.

“Give or take,” Rey confirms with a shrug. “It was crowded, for sure, but… but that was my favorite part, I think. It felt… cozy? Like how I imagine the holidays must be for people who get to spend it with their family, grandparents and cousins and distant relatives all crammed into a tiny house filled with food and laughter and…”

Now it’s Ben’s turn to look at her with eyes that see too much – aided, no doubt, by the poorly concealed longing in her voice.

“Anyway,” Rey cuts herself off with a shrug. “That’s certainly an idea, but like you said: there are at least a hundred of us now, and I don’t suppose you happen to have a huge yard perfect for dinner parties just lying around?”

Ben shakes his head. “No yard, I’m afraid. And my tiny balcony is a tight fit even for me, so…”

She finds herself oddly charmed by the image of Ben Solo, multi-fucking-millionaire (according to Poe) and the oldest of old money, think wrinkled ballsack old (also courtesy of Poe), living in a humble little apartment with a tiny little balcony just like hers, but that’s not exactly relevant right now.

“Right,” Rey says instead. “I figured that might be the case, so I was also toying with the idea of staff lunches, maybe? We could make use of the open space downstairs, or one of the bigger conference rooms on the 36th floor, and set out a bunch of food to encourage everyone to drop by for lunch and just… mingle,” she finishes weakly, faltering under Ben’s attentive gaze – or scrutiny, more likely. It’d seemed like a good idea in her mind, but now–

A thick silence descends upon them as Ben considers the idea, and then… and then he tilts his head to the side with a smile. “That could work. Everyone loves food, right?”

Rey nods a little too enthusiastically, buoyed by relief. “Exactly! And this would have a way higher engagement rate than any after-work or weekend activities, since everyone’s already here anyway.”

“Good thinking,” Ben says with a nod, and Rey pretends the warmth that begins to spread within her is simply a reaction to earning praise from her boss. “Okay, we’ll definitely look into this. What else do you have?”

And for the first time since their initial encounter, Rey thinks she might understand Ben’s confusion over their effect on each other. Because all it takes is one approving smile, one supportive look, and suddenly she finds the courage to tell him about every possibility she’s ever entertained, from serious ideas about replacing the cookout with an annual picnic to ridiculous suggestions like a hot dog eating contest.

The thing is, Ben laughs at the more ridiculous ones. And the important thing is, Ben has a beautiful laugh – it seems to escape him despite himself, but he treats it like a welcome surprise each and every time it happens, and his smile grows wider and his eyes grow warmer and Rey ran out of ridiculous things to suggest about four ideas ago but like hell is she going to stop making this man laugh.

Not by choice, anyway. But at 4PM, Kaydel promptly knocks on her door to remind her that she has another meeting in half an hour.

“Thanks, Kay!” Rey calls out at her closed door, and looks back at Ben to find his smile slowly fading. A faint little grin remains, but the rest of him is composed now, every bit the professional CEO he’s supposed to be. The sight of him back to his usual self, slowly but surely closing himself off, reminds her of one last thing that needs to be done.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much of your time I was taking up–” he says as he begins to rise, and Rey reaches out to wrap her fingers around his wrist before she’s even consciously aware of making the decision to stop him.

“Ben, wait!”

He does, falling completely still as he stares at their hands.

Rey quickly lets go. “Um, I, I have one last idea.” Ben nods wordlessly for her to go on and so she does, making a mess of the little speech she must’ve rehearsed a dozen times in her mind over lunch. “So a few of us have this long-running Friday happy hour thing – it’s nothing big or fancy, we just go over to Maz’s to celebrate the end of the week. But I was thinking it might be fun if more people start showing up… especially the ones who have a standing invitation.”

“Oh,” Ben says. “I had no idea about that. Sounds like fun, though,” he offers with a smile.

“Wait, what?”

Surely Poe must’ve invited him at some point, right? And she knows for a fact he and Leia talk about how he’s settling in on a regular basis – why wouldn’t she have mentioned the long-standing tradition she regularly participated in? “But I thought… I don’t know why, I just assumed you knew you’re always invited–”

Realization is slow to dawn in his eyes. “I’m– you guys actually want– wait, so that’s what you meant when you mentioned standing invitations?”

Rey bites back the impulse to cringe; she sounds so… obvious and pushy and maybe even a little desperate when he puts it like that. But… “Yes. So um, consider this your proper, formal invitation to drop by and join us on Fridays, whenever you feel like it.”

Friends invite friends to come join them and their other friends for drinks, right? Especially when they can sense just how lonely said friend is.

Ben’s still smiling, but– “I don’t know, Rey,” he says slowly. “Won’t it be awkward, having the boss around?”

The words slip past her lips before she can even register them, let alone stop them. “I don’t know, I rather like having the boss around.”

There’s no hint of teasing in her voice, not even the slightest bit of flirtation – only the truth blurted out without thought, laid bare in all its sincerity and honesty.

But maybe that’s exactly why Ben’s smile grows wider and why his eyes light up and why he says–

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”

And sure enough, Friday evening finds Ben Solo sandwiched between her and Poe, his safe zone while everyone else slowly warms up to his presence.

Their arms and legs brush together all evening, and Ben keeps leaning in to whisper into her ear rather than yelling at her to be heard over the din, and all in all Rey thinks it’s her most successful employee engagement attempt to date.

. . .

Fun fact #1: I have literally no idea what it’s like running or even working in HR.

Fun fact #2: Writing is apparently not muscle memory, because I still don’t know what I’m doing. I keep waiting for it to come back to me, but... looks like we’re winging this one, friends!

I hope you’re enjoying it anyway. As always, thank you for reading and please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

[onewhoturns]

fictober.23.: the first appointment

#Fictober19 Prompt: 23. You can’t give more than yourself. Fandom: Oxenfree Characters: Jonas, Duke (OC) Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Angst-ish, emo Jonas, mental health & therapy Word Count: 2802

So... I'm posting this in order to maintain Fictober, but in all honesty this is actually a side scene/side story to a previously mentioned project that is still in the works and has yet to be posted. There may be some spoilers for the beginning of that fic. This is more an exploration of who this AU's version of Jonas is, how he's been affected by the things in his life- I'm calling it 'emo Jonas' but it may not be the type of emo you're expecting, I don't know.

If you want to read it when it comes up in the fic, it's looking like that would be anywhere from chapter 6 to chapter 9 (we're still in the midst of writing at the moment), and I'll update the summary and add it in as a related work when that becomes applicable.

For now, if you still want to read now (and it's cool if you don't), enjoy Jonas's first meeting with Duke, with no context to the rest of the story.

-

An appointment. ‘Like a doctor’s visit.’ Yeah. Well, maybe.

“Hey. You want to come on in?”

Jonas holds his breath for a second, standing from the waiting room to follow the man inside. The guy is in his early 30s, brown hair with a bit of gray starting in, just barely this side of messy, with glasses that look like he should be drinking craft brews at some gastropub in Portland. Duke. That’s a name, alright.

“Nice to finally meet in person.”

Jonas just nods. He’s not great at speaking to new people. Took him a couple weeks to start talking in intake. But he has kinda met Duke before. A pretty long phone interview, not to mention emails. They wanted to find a good therapist, and Camena had options. He’d settled on Duke.

“It’s nice to have all the paperwork out of the way already. Kind of a waste of session time, really.”

Jonas’s brows raise as he tips his head in acknowledgment and agreement.

Duke has a leg crossed over the other, and Jonas realizes, in retrospect, that the guy is actually his height. Maybe an inch shorter, but pretty damn close.

“How tall are you?” They’re the first words out of Jonas’s mouth, but they do their part.

“Six three. On a good day, anyway.”

“Nice.”

“Shoe size?”

“13.”

Duke winces audibly. “Damn, you beat me. 12 and a half.”

Jonas smirks a bit. And the ice is broken.

“You came from school?”

Jonas’s eyes wander to the side table between his chair and the unoccupied couch. He reaches for some kind of adjustable wire toy, turning it inside out and flipping it into different shapes. “Yup.”

“What’s your electives?” It’s a better question than ‘how was your day,’ at least. Duke’s foot is bouncing idly, as well.

“Gym and weight training; shop.”

“At CHS, right? Wilkinson still teaching wood shop?”

Wilkinson? “Yeah, I think that’s his name. Old guy, wears a lanyard with a whistle on it even though I don’t think he does any sports stuff?”

“Yep. He’s not too bad. Get him talking about baseball, that’s a thing. Does he still have that slugger in the workshop?”

“I… don’t know?”

“He’s got two, actually, I think. Louisville Slugger wooden bats, one official and one he made. If he still has it. I heard one year some kids stole it for a prank.”

“Kinda a dick move, the guy’s gotta be at least 70.”

“Yeah. Kids can be idiots. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Technically an adult, and I’d agree regardless.”

“When we talked before, you sounded kinda meh on the Individual Studies thing. How’s that looking?”

“It’s…” Jonas pulls a face. “Still meh on it. Some of the other kids are… ehh. Remind me of guys from North Valley, thinking they’re the shit. And the teachers - or whatever they’re called, aides? They’re a mixed bag. This one girl - woman, I guess - she seems pretty cool. Darcy. Good attitude, even if she seemed kinda fake at first.”

“I’m not sure I totally get what the course is, to be honest.”

“I mean, I’ve got three periods of it, it gets old fast. Though— I mean I guess they’re not all the same. First period for me seems more like… learning skills?” Jonas winces. “I dunno, it’s kinda cringey sometimes. And then third is gonna be assessment stuff— kinda miserable, just packets of standardized test questions and shit like that. Last period is chill though. Basically like a study hall for me, working on the stuff from the tests. And I’ve been getting out a little early, so I can-” He stops.

Duke waits a second for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his chin from looking at the pad of paper in his lap (where Jonas can see little geometrical doodles as well as his illegible scrawl of whatever he’s noting). “A reminder; mandatory reporting doesn’t include stuff like truancy, just plans to harm yourself or others. And I consider ‘plans’ to actually mean plans.”

“So… there’s this girl, right?”

“A friend?”

Jonas hesitates. “Yyeahhh…”

“Or… sounds like maybe not just a friend?”

He shakes his head, “No, definitely just a friend, just… kinda insane.”

“Fun fact; ‘insane’ is really a legal term.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Kinda wild, then. Her and this other guy, too. They kinda like… adopted me?”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I think it’s a positive? But— right, my point was, it gives me time to dip out the back and then meet them in the other parking lot.”

“Why the other parking lot?”

Jonas shoots Duke a flatly skeptical look. “Well they’re not gonna come meet me over in the ‘special’ wing.”

Duke huffs out a short laugh. “Wow, okay, strong feelings about IS are still there I see.” Even as Jonas is rolling his eyes again, he goes on. “So the wild duo. What kind of wild? You think they’ll get in the way of treatment?”

That makes him think for a second. “Um… no? I dunno. The guy is kinda stupid rich and somehow has a line to a shit ton of weed, apparently. Which could be a problem.”

Duke’s brows have risen high. “Could be, yeah. Does your JPPO do random testing? Think being around them could mess with your results?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, they’re scheduled. Every other two weeks. And that should be done by the end of June, and the testing might be ditched entirely when we go down to only meeting once a month. Plus apparently he’s more of an edibles guy, so I’m not super worried about anything accidental. I can always just keep away for a few days before testing, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Even though you’ve been adopted?”

He snorts a bit at that. “Guess I can’t know for sure. Not too worried, though.”

“That’s good. How exactly did you manage to get adopted?”

“The girl was my tour guide first day. I guess she thought I was cool, ‘cause she introduced me to her friend and… I dunno. We exchanged numbers and stuff. Texted. They’re kinda high energy for me, but also-” Jonas hesitates, rolling his eyes before continuing. “It’s weird, ‘cause Alex is kinda… popular? She’s a total dork, constantly jokes about being a witch, but it feels like everyone knows her? And likes her? It’s weird.”

“Huh. Are you saying you think they shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying…” Jonas shrugs. “Eh. She’s nice enough, I get that. But like… I feel like at North Valley she would’ve been… I mean, not disliked. Considered annoying, maybe, in large doses. Not exactly a class clown, but that same idea. More of a subject of entertainment than friendship.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Analytical.”

Jonas considers that for a second. “…Maybe? It’s just kinda how the world is, I’m not complaining about it or anything.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

He shrugs. “No? Like I said; it’s just how it is. People offer certain benefits, right? Sometimes that’s, like… like someone who always knows the homework. If we’re thinking concretely here. And then there’s the one who always has a pencil you can borrow. —It’s like a study group sorta analogy. There’s someone who’s able to get everyone together at once, and someone who can talk to the teacher and argue on your behalf, but who you might not want to spend time with outside of class ‘cause they argue with everyone. And there’s a class clown type, who’s really entertaining but can sorta get in the way if you’re trying to be serious.” Jonas pauses again. “I mean, there’s a lot. But everyone kinda has their strengths and weaknesses, right? It’s like a teamwork thing.”

“So where do you fit in this?”

He thinks for a moment, still playing with the wire cage. “I dunno. I have a car.” That’s part of it at least, even if other things come to mind as well.

“You think that’s what people see you for? Your car?”

Jonas’s lips pull. “I’m not saying that’s my only redeeming quality, I know I’m not just some dude with a car. That’s just, like, the prime benefit.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your other ‘redeeming qualities.’”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m— I know I have them, okay? I’m- I have skills. But they aren’t- y’know, like, my function in a social group.”

“What if you didn’t have your car? You can’t give more than yourself— what qualities do you think you’re bringing.”

“…Alex seems to think my height is a benefit.”

“She obviously has not been 6’3 and attempted to sit in a compact sedan.”

Jonas cracks a smile. “Yeah it’s cute, she’s not tiny but both her and Ren are like… she said it before, I don’t remember what it was 5’5 or 6 or something. Joked about needing me to retrieve pickle jars or whatever.”

“So you’re the guy with the car and the pickle-getter.”

“Sure.”

“That all?”

“Well- I mean, the tall thing is also like—” he waves a hand, “-y’know, the other tall stuff.”

“Can’t say I know what you mean, apart from reaching things and being asked about the weather.”

“You know.” Jonas fidgets slightly. Duke has to know that part of things. “The kinda… intimidation thing.”

“How do you mean?”

Jonas’s lips pull again in that vague passing annoyance. “You know. Being tall and looking— not scary exactly, but like… imposing, I guess. Basically looking like someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“And that’s what you think you bring to a friendship?”

“Yeah. Like… like a bodyguard or something.”

“You think your friends are in danger you have to protect them from?”

“No- well.” He lets out a short sigh, a rueful smirk hooking his lips. “Not yet, anyway. And once they are, I’m betting they’ll have put themselves into it.”

“What does the whole ‘bodyguard’ thing mean, then?”

“Um.” A few images pass through Jonas’s mind, and he hesitates, face impassive for a second before he shrugs again. “Trying to keep her from getting hurt. I guess.”

“…That doesn’t really sound like something based solely on height.”

His fingers twitch, and Jonas’s ears feel warm. “Look, I spent a year in juvie for physical assault. It might not just be the height.”

“You think she wants you to fight for her? Is this like… an American Gladiators kinda thing, or…?”

The laugh is just a huff of breath, but the corners of Jonas’s mouth are lifting. “I don’t think she wants me to fight. I’m just— And I don’t want to fight!” he assures Duke. “But like… there’s probably some element of ‘this guy makes a good meat shield’ or whatever.”

“You ever think they might just… like you? Like just, as you?”

He snorts. “I— I’m not saying they don’t! I mean, at the very least they tolerate me, and I assume they must like me, otherwise we wouldn’t text all the time. It’s really easy to ignore someone’s texts and make excuses.” Jonas isn’t even mad about the question, it’s so far removed from how he feels. “I’m just saying that there’s this fringe benefit for them.”

“And is that how you see them, as well?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Honestly, they’re my allies right now. Not in a bad way - I like them, they’re fun - but at the moment their function in my social circle is connecting me to my new community, right? They’re transitional aids, like a kinda PREP thing. Or IS. I mean, she was a tour guide.”

“Sounds kinda dehumanizing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’m— Look, we talked all the time about support systems and community engagement, and buying in, right? So, I’m building a support system of peers.”

Duke cocks his head, looking mildly bemused.

“What?”

“It sounds like you know the words pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t talk much. Mostly listened.”

“Is that really how you think about the people around you? As… I don’t know, bricks in your support structure?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking. I like the company, I like the distraction, they’re fun. But…” Another one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno, man, call it a justification if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas sighs. “Gives me a reason to keep trying.” Again, it’s not said in anger, or even in sadness. Just a straightforward factual statement.

“What would you do if you didn’t think of things that way?”

“Can’t know for sure, obviously. But— I dunno. Call it distress tolerance. Giving them a function gives me a reason to tough it out. Like—” He pauses. “…Yeah, no, I can’t figure out an analogy for the brick thing. Sticking with people instead of being— transient.”

“Transient.”

“Kinda drifting around. Moving through things.”

“You think you’re transient?”

“I think I’d survive without friends. Until shit started to go wrong, I guess.”

Duke is quiet, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to parse the statement, considering. “…I’m not sure I get it.”

“I like people, but all the— politics, I guess. It stresses me out. I’d rather just… not. At least, in group things. School, juvie— the social dynamic is this constant thing where you’re maintaining. Don’t shit where you eat and all that. Don’t fuck it up, you’re stuck there. All this work to not make things worse for yourself. Honestly, I’d rather just see people when I see them. All day every day is… a lot.”

“…Can I ask you a question?” He’s leaning forward, and his tone is a different kind of curious than he has been.

“I mean… that’s literally all you’ve been doing.”

“Your residential center, your stepdown stuff— they had GED programs. Why come back to high school?”

Jonas is spinning the little wire toy around one finger steadily, keeping an eye on it to avoid having it fly off, even as he picks up speed. “Dad wanted me to.” His stomach dips, and his voice is a little quieter. “Mom would, too.” He’s silent for a second, still spinning. “And it’s supposed to be good for me. Community engagement, support structures, all that.”

“Why do you think they wanted you to do school?”

“I mean, my mom was a teacher. My dad… just wants me to be well-adjusted. I think he wants me to feel normal again.”

“What do you think?”

Jonas’s gut has been steadily, gradually, slowly but surely filling with lead. He breathes evenly. Too evenly. Actively making the attempt. When he speaks, it’s a low mutter. “Not sure that’s possible, if we’re being honest.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. Things just— changed. Can’t really undo that.”

“…I mean, I agree that you can’t live in the past. Things happened, you can’t undo them, but you also can’t spend every minute thinking about them. I know mindfulness tends to get a bad rap ‘cause it’s sort of trendy in the mental health field right now, but there’s definitely a ton of upsides to it.”

“I’m… vaguely familiar.” Jonas’s voice is a bit wry.

“So you know the whole idea of where you’re living. The goal is being present. So not living in the past, or in the future, but in the here and now, without judgment.”

“…Okay…”

Duke is still bouncing his foot a bit. “What do you think? Like— really consider it for a second. What that means.”

“What, living in the present?” Duke shrugs in a casual kind of confirmation. Jonas sighs, fixes his eyes on the therapist, and tries to do as asked. “…I guess I just feel like that’s asking for trouble.”

“How so?”

“I mean… thinking about the future is kinda important. Otherwise you fuck things up and can’t undo them.”

“Who says you can’t?”

Jonas snorts. “You? Like… a minute ago?”

“I guess— maybe it’s just the use of ‘undo.’ You can’t rewind and make something not have happened, but you can control how you handle the consequences, how you potentially repair the situation, your reactions to things, all of that. But if you’re constantly fearing every possible outcome of anything you do… you do nothing.”

“So you’re saying not to think of consequences. You want me to just go party and violate parole and not care what might happen?”

“Well, no.” Duke actually rolls his eyes. “Hell— it’s a delicate balance, right? But some part of that has to be just allowing yourself to exist without judgment.”

“O…kay?”

“Or analysis.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m advocating underage drinking or drugs or truancy or anything, but… You’re out, y’know? You’re in this do-or-die headspace, but your situation has changed dramatically. Now’s your chance to go back to being a kid. Live a little.”

[source for AO3]