#i'm so grateful for our conversations - even the non-cursed ones - and

[unnwin-a]

Banana.... #modelstatus... I'm here to tell you that there is no Tumblr without you ? You make this site so much more bearable and welcoming and truly... please never lose the light and humor that you carry within you. I'm so so happy that there are so many people that love you and you have friends who keep you close in their hearts because it is truly something you deserve and i mean it with my whole being. You're an amazing writer and such an extraordinary person to talk to and know. ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

BESSSAAAA this is legit so sweet I could cry what the HECk 

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: The morning after is filled with misunderstandings and overwhelming feelings. Things just get worse after you, Whiskey, and Frankie debrief with Champ, Ginger, and Pope, and old demons are brought to light.

Rating: M - No Minors

Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries, mentions of non-major character deaths, lots of talk surrounding drugs, a panic attack, angst, alcohol - If I'm missing any just let me know!

A/N: We’ve got misunderstandings and angst in this chapter. We get a peek at Frankie’s prior drug use and he’s not in a good headspace about it. This chapter and the next will deal pretty heavily with these issues. A very special thanks to Agent Capri Sun and @danniburgh for reading over these chapters and giving me the encouragement to get these out there! ~5.9k WC

Chapter 2: All Hell Breaks Loose [AO3]

Consciousness found you as it did most mornings, pinned by a strong, warm arm. You groaned softly while nuzzling back into the warmth, then opened your eyes, surprised to see Whiskey lounging in a chair off to the side of the bed, scrolling on his phone. His eyes met yours with a smile of his own, and then everything that had happened the night before came flooding back. Murmuring in his sleep, Frankie pulled you closer to him and you smiled back at Jack. It felt so right, so natural, you just wished Jack would leave his phone and come back to bed. Whiskey put his phone away and tilted his head, gesturing for you to join him and put his phone away. Carefully, you did your best to extract yourself from Frankie’s warm embrace, wincing as your body ached in protest. You let out a huff once you steadied yourself on your feet only to have Whiskey pull you into his arms.

“Are you alright, Sugar? I found some sweats and a t-shirt that’ll fit you in the closet. Figured you’d want somethin’ a touch more comfortable after last night.”

“You’re a godsend, Jack. I’m good, you boys just really wore me out.”

Jack chuckled softly and you moved to put on the clothes that lay folded on the chair Frankie had been bound to last night. It was normal that the safehouses were stocked with loungewear of a few different sizes in the event an agent needed a quick change. Groaning, you hobbled over to the kitchen, intent on pouring yourself a cup of coffee. He beat you to it though, and you heard him tut in disapproval.

“Uh-uh, you just sit your pretty little behind down and let me get that for you, darlin’.”

You didn’t bother arguing, knowing Whiskey wouldn’t hear it, and frankly, with how sore you were, you didn’t want to. He set a mug down in front of you, then took a seat at the table with his own mug.

“I talked to Ginger earlier. From what it looks like, our pilot was right, they launched one hell of an amorous agent at the gala last night. She sent me some more details, and so far the only casualties were two of the guys from the private security attachment, the people we downed, and a few attendees who had prior heart complications, their hearts gave out from blood pressure spikes.”

You took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth fill you, then bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.

“We’re probably safe to assume then that casualties weren’t their goal, and had they known Statesmen agents would be there, they would have made sure to neutralize us first. With all the chatter Ginger was catching wind of though, they’re either new or they were trying to get someone’s attention.”

Whiskey nodded, pursing his lips and staring down at his coffee while his fingers tapped rhythmically on the table.

“Penny for your thoughts, Whiskey?”

Deep, melted chocolate eyes flickered up to meet your gaze and his mouth twisted as if in distaste for the words he was about to say.

“Now, there’s no good way to bring this up other than just saying it, and I told Ginger I’d ask.” He paused, reconsidering again, then sighed. “Did you tell Frankie or Santiago about Statesmen?”

Your brow furrowed and a muscle in your jaw ticked as you clenched your teeth. You had kept Statesmen’s secret all these years, even though it killed you to keep anything from your old squad. They were your family, and you couldn’t stand lying to them. A sharp flare of anger burned in your chest. The need to lie to them had frankly been a major part of why you hadn’t been back to visit since Tom’s funeral.

“No, of course not, Whiskey.”

Your voice was even, deadpan almost but it was clear from your face that your anger was growing. Jack put a hand up in surrender and gently rested his other hand on your forearm.

“Hey, hey, we don’t want to wake him up.”

He let out a sigh and moved his hand down to cradle your fingers in his own.

“I didn’t figure you had, darlin’, I just had to ask. Especially since he apparently already knew we had a safehouse.”

You took in a deep breath then slowly exhaled, glancing over at Frankie who was still sleeping peacefully.

“Yeah, well, if there were two people in the whole world who’d never believe my cover, it’d be Frankie and Santi. They’re smart, and they know me better than almost anyone else.”

Whiskey jerked his hand away from you, feigning hurt for a moment before it gave way to a teasing smile when you swatted his arm.

“How was he? After I fell asleep.”

“Well, his wrists are in a bad way. Shy as could be when I had him sit down so I could bandage him up. As if he hadn’t moaned at deepthroating my fingers just a bit before.”

You nearly choked on your coffee. It was downright sinful the way Jack could say such lewd things with a voice like honey.

“If you’re wondering whether he regretted it, I highly doubt it, sweetheart. I think you were exactly on the money when you thought about him, but… Well, this ain’t exactly the best way for it to all happen.”

You nodded, sighing while you rubbed the back of your hand with your thumb, a self-soothing gesture you seldom did anymore.

“Certainly not the way we had hoped for it to happen. This was hardly dinner and a conversation. I didn’t expect to spring this on him after only just popping back into each other’s lives after five years. I can’t even really count the funeral since… well, we hardly talked.”

Jack squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Nothing doing worrying about it, darlin’. We’ll sort everything out once he wakes up.”

Just then, your stomach growled and Whiskey chuckled.

“Besides, sounds like I should be worrying about what to make us for breakfast. Champ isn’t expecting us to debrief until 14:00. Which reminds me, I had Ginger get a hold of Santiago. He’s fine, and they’re sending Vermouth to pick him up and bring him to the office for the debrief.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you nod, grateful that Santi was ok after the attack. A small huff of excitement brings your attention back to Whiskey, finding him holding a box of pancake mix triumphantly.

“How about pancakes, darlin’?”

His eyes twinkle at the way yours widen in excitement.

“Pancakes it is then, baby.”

Frankie woke to hushed voices and the smell of pancakes. His stomach growled, and he groaned as he sat up. He felt like he had been hit by a truck.

“Hijo de puta.” [Son of a bitch.]

He muttered to himself, hissing when he bumped his wrist. You turned from your conversation with Jack after hearing Frankie curse, and you couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked in his post-sleep haze. His unruly curls were at all different angles and you fought the urge to walk up to him and sink your fingers in them.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” You paused a moment, looking at the stove clock, “Well, not exactly morning anymore.”

Frankie groaned as he stretched his arms and rolled his aching shoulders, then staggered to the kitchen table, sinking into the open chair and pulling out his phone for the time: noon.

“Fuck, Whiskey, I told you I only needed five hours.”

Whiskey stretched in his seat, waving dismissively at Frankie.

“Clearly you needed more than five hours, Flyboy. You were barely standing when you woke me up this morning. I called our Executive Tech Coordinator, Ginger, to check in. She’s having Santiago picked up, and he’ll meet us at our office. They’re not expecting us until 14:00, we’ve got some time.”

Frankie grumbled under his breath, and you noticed the way Jack’s eyebrow shot up in response to the grumbling. Hiding your smile, you got up and made a plate of pancakes for Frankie, then poured him a cup of coffee.

“Cream or sugar?”

Frankie shakes his head and takes a sip from his coffee, a small hum of pleasure vibrating in his throat.

“Gracias, Halcón.”

Both you and Jack watched him, bemused at the way Frankie shoveled the pancakes into his mouth.

“You should be thanking Whiskey. He’s the one who made them.”

Frankie swallowed then paused, looking over at Whiskey, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“These are delicious, Whiskey, thanks.”

A warm smile lit up Whiskey’s face, and he nodded in appreciation. After a moment, his gaze flickers over to yours, silently seeking your approval to start the conversation you know needs to take place before the debriefing. You refill your coffee, then give Whiskey a nod.

“Before we head out, there are a few things we need to go over, Frankie.”

Whiskey’s drawl floated in Frankie’s ears and tugged at him in a way he hadn’t expected it to without the amorous agent in his system.

“First things first, how did you figure we had a safehouse? Did you already know about Statesmen?”

Frankie blinked and sat back, looking between you and Jack before clearing his throat.

“Pope and I always figured you went into intelligence after the Army, Halcón. Pope doesn’t get called in for small gigs much anymore, and the money Pope pitched the job to me for meant it was high profile. Never believed that story of you being an EA at a distillery for a second. You hate paperwork. Seeing you there meant there might be trouble... Well, you’re always trouble, Halcón.”

He smiled, chuckling a bit to himself.

“Your revolvers and whip, and her pistol in a thigh holster… Well, with everything else, that pretty much confirmed to me that you’re both spooks. That’s why I figured you’d have your own safe houses. I couldn’t guarantee any of Pope’s because of the gas. I didn’t know who had been caught or who had been affected. Just put the pieces together, really.”

Frankie shrugged, and Jack, who had been watching him intently, nodded.

“We’re not on anyone’s radar, Frankie. The distillery is real and helps fund our operations, but not even the President is aware, and we like to keep it that way. So you can understand why there were some concerns when you seemed to have it figured out.”

He nodded, understanding completely the security concerns that came with that kind of secrecy.

“Glad you’re not a jackass CIA agent at least, Halcón.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“No, but Whiskey here is plenty jackass for the both of us.”

Whiskey scoffed and shook his head.

“That’s not the tune you were singing when we first met, darlin’. I seem to remember rescuing you, then stitching you up.”

“I didn’t need rescuing, Whiskey. They grazed me, but I had them!”

Frankie chuckled, a smirk settling on his lips at your indigent retort as he held your gaze. His smirk faltered, however, when he felt your hand rest on his arm. He knew this fleeting moment where things felt oddly right and natural, joking around in the kitchen was just that: fleeting. Now, the other shoe was about to drop.

“All things considered, Fish, you look good… I’m glad.”

Jack sat back, observing the two of you. That simple sentence held more weight than he’d expect it to in a normal conversation. The way Frankie frowned slightly and looked down and away didn’t escape his attention. He watched you fidget for a moment before starting again.

“About last night, Frankie-”

“You two look really good together. Seem to be really great partners, and… and I’m not going to do something dumb like try to get in the way of that or anything. I know we were all affected by the gas, a-and I was available.”

Frankie blurted out. The words felt thick and bitter on his tongue, his heart protesting each syllable, but he so desperately wanted to give you an out from this situation, from him and his baggage. He didn’t want to lose you or your friendship, not when he had just gotten you back in his life. His gaze was actively avoiding yours and Whiskey’s, opting instead to stare down at the floor. You and Jack shared a frown as you took a beat to recover. Whiskey was clearing his throat to try to salvage the conversation, but you could see the gears moving in Frankie’s head as he suddenly stood.

“I need to go prep the helo if we’re going to make it back in time.”

The walls were coming up brick by devastating brick in Frankie’s downcast, coffee-colored eyes. On instinct, you reached out for him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, only to jerk back just as suddenly as he winced in pain.

“Sorry. Frankie, just wait a second.”

“Yeah, now look here, Flyboy, we didn’t do anything we didn’t want to. Hell, you can be damn sure I enjoyed myself.”

There was an ugly, acrid taste pooling in Frankie’s mouth that he couldn’t stop: jealousy. Of course Whiskey had enjoyed himself. At the end of the day, he still had you. Frankie hated himself all the more for this jealousy. It didn’t even have anything to do with the cowboy, he actually liked him despite his cocky attitude. He caught himself, realizing it had almost everything to do with the self-hatred he still harbored. Three years clean was still more than three years too late. Realizing he hadn’t responded, Frankie nodded, gaze flicking from Whiskey to you.

“Can we all at least grab dinner this Friday and talk about it?”

There’s hope in your voice as you plead with him, and you can see his walls stop rising, at least for the moment.

“Ok, yeah.” There’s another awkward pause before Frankie checks his phone for the time and rocks back on his heels. “I’m going to get the helo ready. We need to head out soon.”

You watched as he quickly dressed himself in the disheveled clothes from the night prior and headed out the door in record speed.

Frankie breathed in the fresh air as he walked over to the helicopter. He needed to clear his head. His emotions were all over the place from the night prior and lack of sleep, and it felt like he was giving himself whiplash. Reaching the helicopter, he set out to pull the tarp off of the aircraft. It was much easier taking the damned thing off than it was putting it on, probably having to do with the fact that he wasn’t moments away from collapsing to try to give himself some relief. Gritting his teeth, he willed the thoughts away and made quick work of folding the tarp, stowing it away in its compartment in the cockpit. Frankie sank into the pilot's seat with a sigh and began taking inventory of everything. The blazer he had carelessly wrenched off was still laying in a heap on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up and dust it off, his eyes meandering to Pope’s pistol laying in the co-pilot’s chair. Thankfully, he hadn’t lost it in the chaos of everything. Throwing his head back against the headrest, Frankie closed his eyes. At least they’d be heading out soon and he could throw himself into whatever came next.

You and Whiskey sat at the table for a moment longer, and it was Whiskey who broke the silence.

“Well… everything considered, sweetheart, that could have been worse. Could have gone better too though.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at Whiskey.

“It’s probably just… a lot for him. The last time we saw each other wasn’t exactly stellar.”

“It was a funeral, Bourbon. That’s understandable.”

That wasn’t exactly what you’d meant, but you kept silent, nodding. Whiskey stood up, walking around the table until he stood in front of you. He took your hands in his own and hauled you up, holding you tight and kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get our things together. Champ’ll be waiting for us.”

You and Whiskey moved quickly to gather your belongings, and you had never been more grateful for the stock slip-on shoes Statesmen provided. You didn’t want to have to go out barefoot. Looking back at the safe house, you almost felt bad with the mess you were leaving behind, but you knew for a fact the Statesmen cleaning service had seen far worse.

Frankie only acknowledged you and Whiskey once your headsets were on.

“Get ready, we’re taking off. Statesmen New York office in 20 minutes. Thankfully, we’ve got plenty of fuel.”

The trip back to the office was awkward but thankfully quiet, and Frankie focused on the calming effect flying had on him. After about 20 minutes, you heard Campari’s voice on the radio.

“Approaching aircraft, state your clearance code.”

Whiskey got up from his seat and stood next to Frankie.

“Campari, this is Whiskey, clearance code Alpha-Whiskey-Niner-Niner-Foxtrot.”

There was a pause on the other end as Campari reviewed the code.

“Confirmed, welcome back, Agents Whiskey and Bourbon. Mr. Morales, you’re cleared to land.”

Frankie expertly navigated the helicopter to the landing pad and Whiskey was the first to hop out once they landed. You followed closely behind, turning to make sure Frankie was following. He certainly was, although a few steps behind, and his gaze was still downcast. Frankie was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, still mostly inside his own head as they walked through giant oak double doors into a conference room. It wasn’t until he heard Santiago’s voice that his gaze snapped up.

“¡Hermano!”

Frankie gave Pope a smile as they clasped arms. Then, the other man grabbed Frankie’s shoulders tightly.

“¡Nunca más me asustes así! ¿Entíendes?” [Never scare me like that again! Got it?/Understand?]

Frankie nodded sheepishly, then went to take a seat across from you and to the left of Whiskey.

“Put those on.”

Whiskey gestured to the orange tinted aviators resting on the conference table, identical to the ones you and Whiskey now wore. You watched Frankie bite his lip in concentration, then smiled at the way his eyes lit up as he put them on to see a hologram of Champ seated at the far end of the table.

“¡Ay!”

Frankie and Santiago shout in surprise. Champ shares a look of amusement with you and Whiskey, then gives the other two men a warm smile.

“Alright everyone, let’s get this show on the road. Name’s Champagne but anyone who knows what’s good for them calls me Champ. The lovely lady on the screen on the wall here is Ginger, and y’all are familiar with Whiskey and Bourbon.”

Frankie and Santiago were still in awe, but they nodded their acknowledgements to Champ and Ginger.

“Now, Ginger has an update for us, but first, I must commend you, Catfish. From what I understand, you identified the threat and moved to get Whiskey and Bourbon out of there, minimizing casualties as well as ensuring two of our best agents weren’t captured. I’m sure it was a tremendous feat to do so and fly yourselves to safety given the… well, the condition y’all were in.”

You, Jack, and Frankie had the decency to blush. Frankie ducked his head at the compliment and did his best to avoid eye contact with Pope. He just knew Santi would have a teasing remark about the three of them being together.

“Ginger was able to confirm that the amorous agent used in last night’s attack is a variant of a new drug being used to torture information out of victims.”

“From what Whiskey and I were reviewing,” You interjected, “I think it’s safe to say casualties weren’t their primary objective. Considering how... incapacitated the attendees were, it would have been easy to take more lives. Instead, the deaths seem to be accidental, the result of the private security team or us. It looks to me like their main objective was humiliation. I doubt they knew who Whiskey and I are, if they even had Statesmen Distillery on their radar since we were last-minute additions.”

Frankie nodded and thrust his chin out to Santiago.

“Pope and I heard about it at a conference for his security firm. The ingredients and refinement process are supposed to be too delicate and expensive for something mass market or on the scale that we saw last night.”

Champ nodded and pursed his lips in thought. A sound came from the TV as Ginger chimed in.

“It appears we may have caught a break with that, actually. Final lab results just came in, and analysis of the Agent Red compound also included trace elements of cocaine. Now, last year we busted the Golden Circle cartel, so this could be the competition sweeping in. They might have the resources and facilities to pull it off.”

The room went quiet. Frankie hadn’t heard anything past “cocaine” and the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. His head turned in stiff, jerky movements as his gaze met Pope’s then yours and you can’t think of a moment you’ve seen him more afraid than he is now. Years of dropping into war zones couldn’t touch his reaction now: the quickening of his breath, the way his brows went up and furrowed slightly, the way his eyes widened and froze or the way his lips were parted, tense from the words that were silently stumbling over each other trying to escape the leash of his tongue. Jack took in the way you blanched and Frankie’s pure terror, and finally the pieces fell into place. The words had finally pulled free from Frankie’s tongue, but it was clear that he was far too panicked to put together much of a sentence.

“N-no! I--this, this c-can’t be… Hawk,” he started, desperate to reassure you he’d been clean, as if this brush with the illicit substance negated everything he had done. But you hadn’t been around to see him get clean, so how could he expect you to believe him after how he was when you had left? Frankie started again, frantically seeking Pope’s gaze, “Pope, you know… you know I’ve been clean for three years. I can’t-no, I can’t lose it! I just...I just got it ba-”

Frankie’s voice was broken, the words were crashing into each other, frantic in between sharp, shaky inhales. He looked physically ill, and Jack could see all of the tell-tale signs of a bad panic attack playing out before him. Without hesitating, he swung his chair to face Frankie.

“Hey, Flyboy, you gotta breathe.”

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, ears clinging to Whiskey’s Southern drawl, desperate to ground himself to something. The peaceful image of a cabin by a quiet lake that he conjured up during times like these was gone, just out of reach, almost taunting him. He flinched when Jack’s large, warm hand came in contact with his back, but he let the other man gently push him forward until his head was between his knees. Frankie did his best to try to regain his breathing, he was emotionally and physically exhausted, this had just been the final straw. The warmth emanating from Whiskey’s hand spread down his back, and his mind clung to the sensation like a drowning man would a lifeline. Slowly, Frankie’s gulping of air began to shift towards almost normal as the pressure in his chest eased.

Pope shared a look with you, then cleared his throat.

“Fish had...some issues with cocaine a while back, and his pilot’s license was suspended because of it. He’s worked hard to get his license back, and he’s been clean.”

Champ nodded. He held no judgement. Hell, their own Tequila had had his own run-ins with illicit substances. Your gaze flickered to Whiskey, it seemed like his sole concern was Frankie in that moment. His eyes met yours briefly, and the warring emotions in them foreshadowed a later conversation, but then the moment was gone, and his focus was back on Frankie. Champ paused a moment longer, making sure that Frankie looked to be recovering before continuing.

“Not to worry, Catfish, should you have any trouble with a surprise drug test, Statesmen’ll take care of it. After all, it couldn’t have been helped, and we owe you for Whiskey and Bourbon.”

Frankie slowly brought himself to sit upright, nodding stiffly. Ginger felt for Frankie, watching him as he emptily accepted Champ’s promise.

“If it’s any consolation, we found only trace amounts, nothing substantial.” Not enough to get you hooked were the unspoken words accompanying her statement.

A shaky breath of relief found its way out of Frankie’s lungs, but the fear remained in his eyes. What if he slipped up? Champ was running a cigar under his nose pensively.

“For now, Pope, I want you to coordinate with Ginger. See if you can fill in any of our gaps on the attack last night. Whiskey, Bourbon, I want your reports in tonight. I don’t need to explain but anything you two can remember could be helpful for Ginger and Pope. Catfish,” Frankie’s head snapped up, gaze settling on Champ at the sound of his name. He was ready for an assignment, for something, anything to get his mind off of the thoughts swirling around in his head. “Ginger booked you a hotel just a few blocks from the New York office. I want you to go there, relax, and get some sleep. I understand you got some rest this morning, but given the ordeal you’ve been through, I’m having you take the rest of the day.”

Frankie opened his mouth to protest, but Champ quickly shushed him by continuing.

“Now, don’t worry, it’s not just you. As soon as Whiskey and Bourbon are done with their reports, I’m sending them home too.”

Frankie pursed his lips and nodded, already feeling like a burden and that his last foothold was crumbling. The meeting went on for a few more minutes, but Frankie was in his own head, effectively on autopilot. His shoulders were slumped and his gaze was fixed on some unknown far off point. You, Jack, and Pope shared a concerned glance as the meeting ended. Frankie blinked when Santiago walked up to him, putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Hey, I forgot your go bag, but I grabbed your hat. Figured you’d want it, hermano.”

Standing, Frankie nodded, murmuring his thanks. The doors opened and another agent walked into the conference room.

“Mr. Morales, I’m Agent Vermouth. Please come with me. Ginger asked that I make sure you get to the hotel without any issues.”

You winced at the hurt in Frankie’s eyes that quickly gave way to a hollow nothingness, and your heart clenched for him. There was no way Vermouth could have known the circumstances, what the additional weight his words would have on Frankie. Frowning, Frankie shuffled after Vermouth and disappeared from the room. With a sigh, you turned to Santiago.

“Hey Pope, Whiskey’s just next door, and I’m down the hall. I’m sure Ginger will give you a call in a few minutes. You’ve got the whole conference room to yourself for the rest of the day.”

Pope nodded before you and Whiskey turned to head out.

“My office, Bourbon.”

Whiskey’s voice was low. You had been expecting this, you knew you hadn’t been exactly forthcoming given Whiskey’s past issues. Before you both could make it out of the conference room, Pope’s voice stopped you.

“Hawk?”

Santiago frowned and took a deep breath.

“He really has gotten his shit together. Colombia broke him, and none of us should have been there but I-” Pope sighed and scratched at his beard. “Frankie’s put in the work, he did it, he’s doing it. I know you might have doubts since you weren’t there, but you know I wouldn’t enable him… I just mean that, don’t write him off because of this, Halcón.”

You gave Pope a soft, sad smile and nodded.

“I won’t, Santi.”

There was a beat of silence, Jack quietly observing the two of you. At last, Santiago nodded, and you left the conference room with Jack. He unlocked the door to his office, holding it open for you and you strolled in, making a beeline for the whiskey and two tumblers that sat on the bar cart. You heard him lock the door again as you poured two fingers for each of you. Taking the tumblers in hand, you slid down onto Whiskey’s brown leather couch and handed him the other glass. He was quiet. You both took a sip from your glasses, and then he bit his lip, staring at the swirling amber liquid.

“When were you going to tell me, Bourbon? Were you going to tell me? I mean hell, especially with what we’re considering with him, you gotta tell me shit like this.”

His eyes only met yours at his last word, his face was one of hurt and anger tinged with betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I really am. I was going to tell you, I was planning on telling you after we went down for the fight. If he was still doing well, then we’d talk about it. If he wasn’t… well, then I was going to tell you anyways. Like Santi said, I don’t have the full story. You’re right though, and I’m really sorry, Jack. I should have told you.”

He held your gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly as you gently reached out to hold his hand and took a sip of your whiskey.

“About three years ago, I reached out to Benny, one of the guys from our unit, to congratulate him on a fight, and we started catching up. He mentioned Frankie was cleaning up his act. The guys-- Pope, Catfish, Benny, Ironhead and Redfly-- went to Colombia on a job, and I don’t have all the details because it wasn’t an official mission, but Redfly, our old Captain, died.”

Whiskey nodded, remembering you were fairly new at the time but already a rising star. He remembered the devastation on your face when you had gotten the news. After all, he had been the one to escort you to Champ’s office when you requested time off for the funeral.

“I remember. You went to his funeral. About 4 years ago now.”

You nodded.

“It was the last time I saw Frankie, and he was not in a good place. Not only because of whatever happened in Colombia, but he got back to find his fiancée had left him, and he had started using again. The guys don’t like to talk about what happened, especially not Pope, as I’m sure you noticed. I called Benny again a year ago. With everything that was happening with Poppy and the Golden Circle, I was worried Frankie had slipped up, but I was also so hopeful that he hadn’t. Benny told me that Frankie was still clean, he’d gotten his license back, and was doing well for himself.”

Whiskey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It… it doesn’t make me think less of him, sweetheart. You know I’ve been doing the work in therapy, and I understand he’s not the same as the bastards who took everything from me. I know that’s why you were apprehensive. If this is going to work though, we need to communicate. I can’t have you keepin’ secrets like this.”

You nodded. The understanding between you was solid, and you knew you should have told him sooner. He took your glass and pulled you closer so you could nestle into his side. It had been an exhausting 24 hours, and you both wanted nothing more than to have this moment to just exist with each other. After a few quiet moments, you took your glass from his hand, threw back the rest of your drink, then disentangled yourself from Whiskey.

“I’m going to go get changed then get on that report so I can get the hell out of here. I want to take a bath and unwind a bit first, but do you want to do takeout at your place tonight?”

“Wouldn’t have my night any other way, sweetheart. I’ll text you later?”

You nod and wink, earning you one of his soft smiles, then you head out.

The hotel room was nice, far nicer than any room Frankie would have ever booked for himself. It was swanky and refined, whereas the hotel they had planned for the gala at was gaudy and flashy. Frankie stared at the menus laying on the bed next to him, not really seeing the words printed before him. Agent Vermouth had told him to order room service and not to worry about the cost, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He closed his eyes, cradling his head in his hands, trying to shut out the dark thoughts circling around him. This feeling, low in his stomach, twisting knots in him, felt like failure. Like he was a failure. It felt like somehow all of the work he had put into getting clean had been undone in a blink of the eye. He hadn’t even sought it out or consented to it. No, it seemed like no matter what he did, his past… the drugs, they would always catch up to him. Of course it was happening now, when he had a real shot at something better. He wasn’t sure what you were hopeful for when you pleaded with him to do dinner in two days’ time, but at least he could hope for regaining your friendship.

With a sigh, he got up and ambled to the minibar, grabbing a few bottles of whiskey, downing one, then sank back onto the bed. His personal phone suddenly went off. Fumbling around for it in his pocket, he took a deep breath, then unlocked it.

Kevin: I couldn’t find someone to cover for you, I’m letting you go Morales. If you have any personal belongings we’ll have them mailed to you. Your final paycheck will be deposited on Friday.

Frankie felt tears prick at his eyes, and he desperately scrubbed at his face with the heel of his left hand as if his efforts would keep the tears from falling. That was the last thing he needed right now.

What a fucking mess he was.

He was a veteran, a former cocaine addict, and now he could add jobless to his titles. It felt like his world was crumbling all around him.

Fuck.

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, desperately wishing this was just one of his nightmares. His hands shook, whether from stress or something else he wasn’t sure. He downed another bottle, staring at the minibar a moment longer, fingers fumbling with the cap of the third.

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Soooo, hi...yes...thank you for reading! I've got Chapter 4 in the wings and Chapter 5 knocking around my drafts!

Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated! If you want to be added to my taglist just head on over here! If your blog is crossed out, it wouldn't let me tag you, sorry!

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[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Eda's Requiem" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...

...

...HOW IS SEASON TWO SO GOOD?! WE'VE HAD SEVEN EPISODES SO FAR, AND EACH ONE OF THEM WAS A HIT!

Take "Eda's Requiem," for example. It's yet another episode where I have NOTHING bad to say about it! That's two weeks in a row where that happened! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

HOW!

HOW!

...But anyways, "Eda's Requiem." It's another fantastic episode, and I'm about to dive into explaining how and why. Just keep in mind, it's gonna require spoilers to do so, so be wary of that as you keep reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Eda’s Checklist and Grom Photo: Within the first second, "Eda's Requiem" perfectly sets up Eda's central conflict in the episode. Despite spending years being on her own and looking after herself, she now has two kids that she's constantly caring over. Eda can try all she wants to say that she doesn't care, and I bet she has in the past. But given the hard work she's putting into getting King and Luz what they need and having a grom photo of the three of them together pinned in her mirror, it's pretty clear that those two knuckleheads wormed their way into her heart and are never getting out.

Eda’s Worried About King and Luz Leaving: And thus, that's precisely why something like this bothers her so much. Eda inadvertently adopted two rambunctious rapscallions (Yeah, I know. I'll get to it), so the idea of them not being around her anymore is going to be terrifying. That is a situation most parents, especially mothers, can identify with. It’s called empty nest syndrome and it proves just how much Eda loves Luz and King that she can't stand the thought of her babies leaving the nest. It's yet another well-made, wholesome, found-family moment that this series continues to excel at each week, making me extra excited for more like it to come...while also readying myself for heartbreak when one of them eventually does leave Eda.

Eda and Raine’s Music: Ok, I don't know the exact instruments that were played during this episode, but I also don't care because it was all (for lack of a better term) music to my ears. Every time Eda and Raine played resulted in melodies that are so beautiful and filled with so much emotion and feeling that I'm honestly tempted to listen to them again, multiple times, on repeat. Shows rarely do that for me, as background music doesn't always draw me in as much as lyrical songs do. Usually, it takes something so extraordinarily composed to give me the desire to listen again, and that's the case here. So huge congrats to Brad Breek for doing so. Seriously, the man's been killing it this season.

Eda’s Bard Magic Causing Things to Turn to Ash: This was assuredly a surprise side-effect of the curse. The fact that Eda can sort of do magic at all was its own shock. To then reveal that a specific type can do dangerous things to people and environments is...Well, it definitely brings up its own fair share of questions. Like, how can she do this? Will she do it again, one day? And are there other types of spells that can be negatively affected by Eda's curse? We don't get answers for any of these questions, and odds are, we never will. But that's alright with me. Because if a show makes me consider these many possibilities after a brief amount of time, it is a show that has to be doing something right. Even if I don't get the answers I want, the fact that it caused such a reaction makes me less willing to care.

Raine Whispers: Hey, would you look at that. Another fun, interesting, and compelling character added to the list of this shows' other fun, interesting, and compelling characters...how is this series so good at this!?

Joking aside, Raine's pretty good. I like Raine. They could have been this super serious leader who lost all their fun after years apart from Eda, but I'm glad that they're not. There are moments when Raine takes their job as leader of the BATs seriously, as one would, but I still prefer the fact that they kept a jovial nature despite how grim their situation is. It's an admirable trait to have, and it avoids the trope of making leader characters boring just because they're the ones who have to take things seriously.

Oh, and also, Raine's Disney's first non-binary character who has a stake in the plot. This is a tremendous deal, as you don't usually see that many non-binary characters in children's animation, let alone ones that hold importance to the story. So it's pretty cool for the writers to feature Raine, as it helps several kids feel as though they're finally seen and respected. And the fact that Disney of all companies gave the thumbs up is even more impressive. I hear people say that Dana Terrace should have pitched The Owl House to more progressive networks to avoid pushback, and while I absolutely see your point, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Disney is the largest entertainment industry of all time, so if you want to make LGBTQA+ representation normalized, you gotta stop making splashes and start making waves. Because if the same company that made three racist cats in the span of a few years manages to say that being gay is a-ok, then you know there's something wrong with you. Yes, Disney ended up screwing over the show anyway. But for that one moment, when kids felt pride after seeing a character like Raine, then, in the end, it's kind of worth it.

Also, if you're still having issues with more representation like this popping up in kids' shows, then allow me to redirect you to the complaint department.

...I made that post earlier today for this bit. YOU HAVE BETTER APPRECIATED IT!

Day of Unity is meant to be a Secret: At least, that's what I got when Raine stumbled over their own words. So if it's true, then I wonder why? Why does Belos want to keep the most critical change in the Boiling Isles a secret? Does he want to make it a surprise for his grateful subjects, or does he not want to spread worry and fear amongst the wild witches? It has to be something big if he doesn't want his followers to even say the words "Day of Unity." Whatever reason he has, we most likely won't know until the future. A future that I grow more and more afraid of each week.

Hooty Eating Echo Mouse: My heart sank in that brief moment when I thought that Hooty intensely screwed Luz over in getting back home. But looking back...it is pretty funny.

Just the suddenness of Hooty eating the poor creature that Luz desperately tried to earn its trust is priceless in how shocking it was. And also, Luz's expression.

That was the look of a young girl who immediately shoved her hand down an owl demon's throat the second the scene cut away. The Owl House may not always be a hit in the comedy department, but scenes like this prove that when it's funny, it is hilarious.

Luz and King Entering the Grand Prix: Not much to discuss here. It's just a cute subplot that adds frivolity to the intensity of what's going on through Eda and Raine's story. But I will say that I love how both stories occasionally interconnect with each other through the many moments of Eda being worried about King wanting to leave to find his father and avoiding any conversation about it. It helps both plotlines feel like they belong together, without being something like "Through the Looking Glass Ruins," whereas both stories could have been in their own episode. Which is neat.

How Bard Magic Works: I really love how this season is diving into how the other magic types work. More specifically, the ones that seem a little vague. I mean, stuff like healing, potions, and plants are easy to figure out, but what does it mean when a witch's talents are construction, beast keeping, and bard magic? We've been getting a lot of clearing up lately, with bard magic looking like a witch can control their environments and enemies through the power of music. Which is fair. Music is pretty powerful in the metaphorical sense, and I actually love that it's powerful in the literal sense when in the Boiling Isles.

The BATs: Not much to comment on these three either. The BATs have the potential to have an entertaining dynamic, but they do very little in this episode that I can't say much other than I hope they make a return in the future. But I will make this claim: Amber is my favorite. I'm sorry, but her screaming "You're not our mom!" to then go, "Bye, mommy Eda" is just too precious for me not to love.

I'm a simple man who falls for cute s**t. Leave me alone.

Raeda (RainexEda): Well, EdaxCamila, you were a fun crack ship while it lasted, but I'm afraid that this is now goodbye. The current canon has provided an incredibly adorable and believable relationship that I would be a monster not to support with my whole bi-heart. It's been real.

Ok, back in serious mode: I love these two together. Eda and Raine are grown-ups, and they still act all flustered near each other as if they were still Luz and Amity's age. It's definitive proof that you're never too old to get flustered near a crush, and seeing them interact adds a sense of wholesomeness when seeing them together as well as heartbreak when they're forced apart. Plus, we get confirmation that Eda's LGBTQA+! Whether she's bi, pan, or whatever, now that we know Eda can catch feelings for someone like Raine, it's yet another case that The Owl House is the most important series to the community. Because having the main character be queer is fantastic in its own right. But having the same apply to the motherly mentor figure? That's is an extra bit of normalization that anybody would be willing to appreciate.

Unique Guard Designs: Not many fans are going to appreciate this, primarily compared to everything else this episode does perfectly. For me, I actually like that you see a few Coven Guards looking differently from the others, as it helps make them less like clones and makes it seem like anybody of any body type could be a part of the coven.

Gus Looking Uninterested when Presenting Grand Prix with his Dad: I am positive that you didn't notice this (I didn't even notice it until someone else pointed it out), but there's something to dissect here. It hints that perhaps Gus isn't as interested in his father's field of work as one might think. If he did, he would look a lot less bored and much more excited to be helping Perry Porter present the race. It could just be the race itself, but judging from Gus' expression, it really seems like the kid would prefer to be anywhere but there. And why would he have that reaction to a race that his best friend is competing in? To me, this seems like an inkling of what Gus' relationship with Perry could be, which may not actually get time to shine, what with how little wiggle room the series has now (Thanks Disney). Regardless, it is interesting to notice, and it will certainly have fans thinking for a while.

Bump Being Smug of Luz Being in the Lead: That's it. Principal Bump looking smug as his human student is beating the students of his rivals is yet another moment that proves why Bump is easily the best cartoon principal.

Darius: First of all, this guy is f**king fabulous, and I love him. *Snaps*

Second, he is definitive proof that you do NOT want to f**k around with Coven Leaders. Lilith may have had her intimidating moments, but none of them compare to the guy who can turn himself into an abomination monster where only magic that hasn't existed before can take him down. It's genuinely scary to see Darius lose control, and I fear for the day when Luz inevitably ends up in his crosshairs.

With that said, Darius' still a ton of fun! He may be threatening, but he's just a flamboyant guy that hates the idea of getting his outfit the tiniest bit dirty. And I love that. I love that these Coven Heads have actual personalities instead of being generically evil. I consider it preferable to make villains entertaining rather than blatantly scary as I'll remember the personalities first and the villainous acts last.

Eberwolf: But this one's my favorite. I told you: I'm a simple man who gets easily swayed by cute s**t. And Eber? I mean, just look at her:

She's just a cute widdle rascal! I just want to pinch her cheeks, give her a belly rub, and--

...Eberwolf is not a cute widdle rascal. She is a strong, independent woman, and I will respect her as such from this moment forward...lest I feel her wrath.

That is all. Let's move on.

Eda and Raine Attempting a Final Performance: This was the best scene of the episode. It looked gorgeous, it shows the dedication Eda and Raine have for stopping Belos, and it says so much through so little. Go back and look at how Eda and Raine regard one another when performing Eda's requiem. Through their expressions and a few short words, you know they understand that if they complete the song/spell, they probably won't make it in the end. And yet, they don't care. They both know bad stuff will happen if Belos wins, so Eda and Raine put everything to the side, both their feelings for one another and the people they leave behind if it means putting an end to a tyrant. That level of dedication...Words can't fully describe how powerful that is.

Raine Sacrificing Themselves Instead: But in the end, Raine can't do it. Not when they know the life that Eda has and the people she'll be leaving behind. It's an extra bit of nobleness to the character seeing that Raine refuses to take away a woman from two kids who need her the most. A tad bit selfish, sure, knowing what Belos has planned. But when it comes to love, the romantic, familial, or platonic, the best decisions aren't always the logical ones.

Eda Crying: Luz crying tears me up, but seeing Eda cry is a whole different level of heartbreak. Like Lilith, Eda has her emotions locked up tight, with the closest she came to weeping were those two tears in "Young Blood, Old Souls." In "Eda's Requiem," she cries but almost quickly stops herself. As if she knows that doing so isn't going to save Raine. That is...even worse than seeing Luz break down after losing Eda. The fact that Eda refuses to give herself time to mourn losing someone she loved is tragic because crying is the most natural way of showing grief. Turning that off isn't healthy, and seeing her do it with little resistance is sad to me. It's sad to see a character I love can easily shut off all emotions despite how badly she may want to embrace them. It's one of those moments that, again, by doing so little, it shows so much.

“No one watches Crystal Balls anymore. It’s all about streaming.”: Oof. Even I felt that burn towards cable.

King’s Message: King's message was the pick-me-up I needed after the heart-wrenching sadness this episode put me through a few minutes ago. Seeing King say who he is and listing all the things he loves is nothing short of adorable. On top of that, I adore that Eda willingly recorded the whole thing. She may not want King to leave, but that doesn't mean she'll sabotage the one thing he wants. Especially not after Raine gave up everything so Eda could be with her kids. The opening scene may prove how much Eda cares about a rascal like King, but this heartwarmingly sweet moment reveals just how far she'll go to make him happy.

King’s Dad Reveal: ...ok, I'll be honest, I did not think we'd get that reveal this soon. Dumb of me to say, considering the number of times I've said that these writers don't waste time getting to the s**t, I know. But still, it's pretty cool knowing that King's dad is alive and well, added with the fact that we've got a fair idea of what he looks like. At this point, it's only a matter of time before we see him figure out where the Clawthorne residence is and witness the tear-jerking moments that will follow.

King Changing his Name to King Clawthorne: Not the official adoption I was expecting Eda to make...but DANG IT, is it still diabetes-inducing levels of sweetness!

Personally, I feel like the main reason why Eda breaks down this time is not only because she shouldn't be worried about King leaving her life, but also because Raine's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her kids really do need Eda because no matter how far apart they'll be, she will always be a part of their life...dang it, I'm going to cry too!

What those Coven patches really do: Well...that was horrifying to see.

...Writers, if you kill off the best non-binary character in animation (it's a short list, I know), we are going to have PROBLEMS!

IN CONCLUSION

"Eda's Requiem" is--surprise surprise--another A+. The emotions hit hard, the representation hits harder, Raine is a fantastic addition to the cast, and it was all surprisingly cute at times. Season Two is currently on a hot streak, constantly winning with every episode that's come out so far. When a bad episode does eventually show up (IT'S GONNA HAPPEN!), I'll be sure to sing my requiem then. For now, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride.

[wisp-of-thought]

l o v e l a n g u a g e

language: the principal method of human communication or

a systematic means of communicating ideas or feelings by the use of conventionalized signs, sounds, gestures, or marks having understood meanings

~

93% of communication is non-verbal. and i tried to learn a new language for you.

it was not an easy one. there were no textbooks, or online review tests, or vocabulary sheets. there was only my hastily scrawled notes trying to understand. there was only me, practicing my pronunciation in the mirror, watching my mouth form around unfamiliar vowels, my hands trying to learn how to hold the consonants so you might be able to better understand my accent. there was only you, trying to teach me a language that had never been transcribed.

you lend me one of your earbuds on the bus and play a song i cannot understand because there are just chords. just brushstrokes of sound. just melody threading notes together. the music is trying to say something. but you are trying to say something too by giving me this rythem. i cannot understand. but i listen anyways. and these are the ways in which i try to learn. you memorize my coffee order but forget my birthday. you never say you miss me but you look back twice exactly when we part every time. your eyes are always closed when we touch. i do not understand what these things say, or what you are trying to tell me but i listen anyways. and these are the ways in which i try to learn.

once, we don't speak for too long and the first night you spend in my bed again, i ask you, before i turn the light off, what it means. you don't look at me. you say you don't know. so i flick off the light switch and curl around myself under the covers. your hands find my hair, find my waist, find the soft skin of a scar, find the place where the flesh is thinnest between the world and my heart. i ask you what that means. you say it means, "you still have me." and so i kiss every one of your finger tips and in this way i respond, "i am glad." i let my legs tangle with yours under the blankets and in this way i say, "you still have me, too." in this moment you have not learnt my language yet either. but we are both learning. and some things are hard to misinterpret.

you take me to the movies to watch the same film for the second time. i do not understand what this is trying to say or what you are trying to tell me but i listen anyways. on the drive home, we take the leftover silence of the theatre with us, and i ask you what you meant when you did this. you are still picking the quiet out from your teeth with your tounge and so i say, "in my language, this means, 'i would choose the silence over your voice.' in my language this means 'you are only worth the past, over again. there is no moving forward, only backwards. until we fall into the oblivion from which we came'. " you pull off the road. you shake your head. say, "in my language, this means, 'the quiet is hard sometimes but never with you.' in my language, this means 'i think we have time enough to reread stories twice'. this means, 'you are the familar and for this i am grateful'. this means, 'i do not need adventure to stay'. that I am content to sit with you and the dark and devour a peice of the world together."

and so i come to learn that your leg slipping over my hip when i am just on the cusp of sleep means: i forgive you. learn that a sandwich found in the fridge made the night before for me to take to work means: im sorry. learn that the hour long shower means: not now. learn the bitting of the nails means: now. now, please. i learn the sunday morning pancakes mean: i love you. but so do the forehead kisses and the 1:30 am texts about tomorrow and the you telling me about your day. i learn the offer to fix my car means "let me be something for you, please." i learn 2 dirty mugs in the sink mean a bad day unless one of them is the red one and it's thursday, because then that just means working late, and in this way i learn about the context of a phrase.

you learn things too. pick them up slowly. through daily conversation. murmmer things in passing. nonchalant and nervous. i don't correct you. i just smile. because I know what you are trying to say.

i wince sometimes at the misused vocab and poorly built sentences that crumble quickly, but i do not offer to teach you until you ask. because i know for certain what you are saying then. saying:

i want to know how to speak to you in the language you feel most at home in.

i want to be able to know you in the words there are no direct translations for.

i want to be able to find you in the dialect you retreat to when the day has gone on too long.

you are saying:

i want to be able interpt everything you think there are no words in my language to say, and so you don't say them.

i want you to be able to tell me everything

you are telling me:

i want you to know that i want to try and talk to you even when it is hard.

you offer to walk with me in the fall afternoon even though you hate the crunch of the leaves that you say sounds too much like endings and i ask you if this offer means "i love you" or "i don't want to be alone right now" and you are looking away from me when you explain that sometimes things can have more than one meaning.

i tackle you half screaming half laughing when you buy us the concert tickets for my birthday and you ask me if this means "thank you" or "i love you" and i am smiling when i explain sometimes things can have more than one meaning.

i come home late to find you sobbing on the bathroom floor and i hold you for hours. i show you videos of baby's laughing until the tears subside long enough for you to kiss me with salt sorrow stained lips and i ask against your mouth if this means "thank you" or "i love you" and you whisper of how different things can have the same meaning and in this way i learn of synonyms.

sometimes the learning of a new language is difficult.

is frustrating.

is silences that scream two things in dissonance.

for the hardest things to define are the absences.

for there are a million subtle ways the pronunciation of quiet differs depending on what you are trying to convey.

sometimes learning a new language is

mistakes.

is misunderstandings.

is apologies

for violating customs

and muddling unfamiliar proverbs.

i'm sorry,

this is not my native tounge.

but i am trying.

i am learning.

if you are willing to teach me.

sometimes a new language is something we become fluent it. the bilingualism comes easy. it rolls off our tounge like second nature. you realize now there are new ways to love in this language. but there are also new ways the hurt. and new ways to heal. and new ways to apologize. you realize there are new ways to know someone when they are not afraid to be misheard.

sometimes a new language is a patchwork quilt of simple words and poorly stitched grammer. sometimes i pull out a few words at the restaurant to impress you. you smile less at the phrase, more at the gesture. sometimes i stumble over the words and you help me up, help me along the sentence, because you know it means the world to me to try for you.

sometimes all we can do is learn to understand. the words never come out right so we stop trying. but we listen. we nod. we laugh. we hold them at all the right parts of the story.

sometimes the greatest gift you can give someone is to understand

what they are trying to say.

when she makes paper flowers and sends me photos of them. i know she is trying to tell me: "look. i got out of bed today and created something beautiful. i thought of you in the slow process of the cultivation of this miracle." and i don't know how to reply. not in her language atleast. and so i don't. but i know what she means.

sometimes it is enough to understand someone.

sometimes it isn't.

sometimes a new language is not for us. we tell ourselves we are too old to pick it up. we tell ourselves it is too difficult. too forgien. too complicated. we try for the sake of saying we tried. but we don't.

in the end, we know how to say hello and goodbye and thank you and a handful of curse words. sometimes we know how to say i love you. in the formal tounge. with textbook pronouns and rigid verbs.

sometimes learning a language is

things lost in translation

is

how was I supposed to know what that meant?

is

why didn't you just tell me?

is

i didn't know how.

is

being too tired to roll your r's and remember the right tense.

sometimes learning a language is screaming everything you cannot translate at the language barrier between you. hoping they understand. hoping they don't.

but there is something unmatched about being welcomed home in your mother tounge.

something about being forgiven in words you could never misinterpret.

about being called to bed by the familar.

t h e r e i s s o m e t h i n g u n p a r a l l e l e d a b o u t b e i n g l o v e d i n

y o u r o w n l a n g u a g e.

[phantom-wolf]

Day 8: Pirates and Cowboys

Old life, New Beginning

A/N: I'm going to put content warnings in the tags and also before the story just in case

For @usukweek

Content warnings: character held captive/ prisoner, mentions of robbery, use of guns, mention of insects, 10 year age gap, minor character death, suggestive themes 

Summary: In 1875, Arthur Kirkland decides to travel to Europe. On his journey the ship he's on is attacked by pirates. Lo and behold one of those pirates is Alfred Jones.

You can also read it here:

A familiar four clicks accompanied the movement of his thumb as the hammer of the single action was cocked. A spatter of blood and gore soon accentuated the deck as one of the pirates took the bullet that tore from the blond's revolver. He instinctually ducked as bullets whistled by and nearly found their mark. The only thing roaring in his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat, unimpeded by gunfire but rather spurned to a faster beat as adrenaline flooded his senses. The ringing in his ears that would've been acknowledged by a novice went unnoticed.  Fragments of wood dispersed as bullets embedded themselves into the deck and masts of the ship. 

The male found himself in a less than ideal position, forced to take cover in a location that left his rear exposed and able to be flanked. He couldn't afford to let his attention divert to this fact in the chaos of battle. All he could do was hope that the others could fend off the invaders and that there was no second point of entry. Another click distinguishable from the sound of the hammer was audible as the last chamber of the Peacemaker was emptied. Instead of wasting time reloading he reached for the second gun in its holster, a relatively newer Smith and Wesson model three he had bought off someone whose name he couldn't recall. Before he could properly grip and raise the weapon he sensed a presence behind him and felt metal dig into the back of his head. Instinctually he froze and mentally cursed himself for acknowledging the weakness while doing nothing to prevent it. 

"Hand away from your weapon."

Weighing his options he complied, slowly feeling himself relax as the barrel was removed from the back of his head. He turned to face the perpetrator, sizing him up, taking note of his broader figure, dirty blond hair and estimating his age to be in his thirties before his focus shifted to looking down the barrel of the weapon. A gleeful delight overcame him, a catalyst for confidence whereas in a different situation he may not have had. There wasn't a round chambered in the barrel. His eyes flicked to the other man's blue ones before a laugh escaped his lips full of contempt and amusement, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as the fear drained from him.  Pointedly he stated "If you're going to be aiming a weapon at someone it should be loaded." 

His attacker had enough common sense to look slightly embarrassed, eyes widening slightly before narrowing once more, his finger curling tighter around the trigger and his thumb brushing against the hammer of his revolver in an attempt to regain control of the situation "There are five rounds, all it takes is a quick rotation of the cylinder. So I suggest you cooperate."

The pirates' attempt wielded no fruit as another snicker left the other's mouth." This was poorly planned on your part. If I was a- duller gentleman what would stop me from pulling my secondary and shooting you on the spot?" 

The pirate looked affronted. "The fact that by the time you would've pulled it out I would've taken the end of this weapon and hit you over the head. Or simply pulled back the hammer a few times and shot you before you could me." Arthur could see the stranger practically bristling as he continued. "Anyway, what's wrong with you? Who decides to look down the barrel of a gun pointed at them?!" To his utmost amusement he could hear the man murmur under his breath about how in all the years- 

"You're confident in your abilities I'll give you that. And you're lucky I'm no gunslinger." Arthur started, peeking over the barrel that served as cover and scanning the deck for any other resistance from the other crew members of the merchant ship. Finding none he decided not to risk being shot by the thieves who had boarded during their conversation. It had seemed the victors were decided. "To answer your question, a very clever man."

"Or a very stupid one" The pirate grumbled and narrowed his eyes, giving him a glance over before stopping on his face. Despite the now rather medium length beard that accompanied his features and some grey poking through his wild blond hair he could see a multitude of things flash through the other's expression, the two most prevalent being surprise then recognition. 

"You're- Arthur Kirkland." 

Arthur let another curse leave his lips not caring enough to hide his rather foul mouth as the stranger shouted to the others and he was guided on board the pirate's ship. 

--

Now he found himself imprisoned aboard some ship he knew nothing about. A rich orange light filtered in through a circular window of some kind, slowly retracting and leaving strange shadows in its wake as the sun started to set. Left to his own thoughts for entertainment, he mulled over the irony of the situation and mused that if he had wanted to be in a cell he would've walked himself into the local sheriff's office. He mindlessly swatted festering insects away as they found their way into his holding through the opening, torn between being grateful for the ventilation while also loathing it for being an easy access point for flies. He'd come acquainted to the soft creaking of wood and boisterous voices above drowning in whatever alcohol they could scrounge up. Several days, ten since his capture and a few days on board his previous vessel had granted him the mercy of letting him adjust himself to the sway of the waves underneath them. His body ached and he wasn't sure if it was from the hard floor below him or from the moisture that was in the air. It was however a definite reminder that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

 A nearer, heavier creak caught his attention and he turned his head to the source spotting a silhouette in the doorway. With the illumination of the kerosene lamp his visitor clutched he could make out the details of a familiar figure. Deeming him as non hostile he relaxed and decided to greet his company. "Come here for free entertainment? If you did I apologize. I'm not very interesting."

"I came here to give you some food"  The familiar voice of the pirate who had found him in the first place spoke. "And to deliver some news. As for that second part we both know that's not true."

At the announcement of food Arthur sat upright and moved to the bars. "We'll thank you for the compliment" He murmured more focused on what the other carried then the conversation. He kept his composure despite the rumbling of his stomach, stamping down any ebbing curiosity that threatened to reveal itself. News was an inconsistency in routine that had been made over the past several days and frankly he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what that meant.  "What is it this time?"

"Some dried beef and some beer today." 

A little humorous and witty remark rolled off his tongue easily."You pirates' meals are quite bland, you know that don't you Alfred?" 

Sensing the humor in his words Alfred chuckled. Somehow he managed to juggle the beer, meat and lamp by keeping the drink close to his body with his arm and gripping the wrapped cloth that had the dried meat with the same hand, letting the other carry the light source."You're lucky you're not eating the biscuits. The bugs like to make their homes there."

At that Arthur grunted, disgusted but not surprised. "The bugs make their homes everywhere. It doesn't surprise me they are embedded in your food as well."

"Your food now." Alfred responded with a light hearted grin deciding to take the lasting conversation as an invitation to stay. He'd done this every time he brought food and drink. Arthur held no hostility to him, not minding the company either. Afterall, if he had been in the pirates' place he would've done the same thing. Extra money wasn't something that was stumbled upon frequently. He supposed he should even be grateful that Alfred hadn't decided to shoot him right then and there. Although conversing with the man led to one of the answers he was searching for. Turns out Alfred didn't like to kill civilians if he didn't need to. At the time he had figured the situation was under control and sensing the opportunity for an ambush had done so. He'd much rather use intimidation tactics to manipulate the situation. What the quartermaster hadn't realized was that the newest edition to the crew, Jackson had been shot until after. These things tend to get lost in the chaos of gunfire and screaming. 

The lamp was set down as a hand slipped between the bars with the cured meat clutched in it, which he eagerly took and was soon followed by the beer. He knew it was beneficial to them to keep him alive, however that was a very...broad term. He doubted the bounty poster specified that he had to be in pristine condition to claim the reward. So he was happy to accept some of the more quality food. 

They stayed in silence for a few moments, Arthur slowly tackling the meat and washing it down with beer until Alfred broke it. "You're to be brought up to the deck today".  

Upon hearing those words Arthur nearly choked on the beef, managing to swallow without incident. "What?" 

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, although had appeared concerned when the other almost choked. "I did say I had news for you."

"You could've mentioned it earlier!" 

"Yeah I guess so. But then you wouldn't have eaten, insisting to go now. This way you have energy. So finish your food and then I'll bring you up." 

Arthur seeing no other option simply ate a little faster. 

---

Arthur was grateful for the sun's position upon stepping out onto the deck for the relative lack of light. He was sure if the sun had been higher an unforgiving headache would've blossomed behind his eyes at the sudden influx of light. His joints popped from the exercise he found himself able to partake in. It felt nice after being confined to a small cell for a little over a week. He was still weary however. Years of experience had taught him that nothing was easy in this world. Nothing was given, everything came with a price. Not even stealing was without its dues. This situation was quite the reminder. 

He sensed Alfred's eyes on him and turned to look at him. It was at this moment Alfred spoke up. "Captain Williams wants to talk to you." 

There it was. "Oh? And why's that?" 

"That's something you'll have to ask him yourself. But don't worry! Whatever it is, it will be alright. After all, you got me on your side! I'll do my best to protect you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at this statement dubiously. "My hero" he retorted with a roll of his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Alfred seemed to brighten up at that not seeming to either notice or care that it had been sarcasm. Not wanting to ruin the man's mood, Arthur wordlessly followed Alfred to the Captain's quarters. Williams was waiting for them, looking up as the door opened and Alfred greeted him. "Mr. Kirkland" Was the simple greeting he'd received. At least the captain seemed to hold a little respect for him. 

Arthur gave a small nod of his head, tilting his hat in recognition. "Captain Williams. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked hoping his sarcasm from earlier didn't bleed into the words for his own sake. When he locked eyes with the older man's brown ones he was met by a stare not so unfamiliar. Experienced, calculating, straight to business. A non verbal and pointed reminder to not cross the pirate captain. He met the challenge with his own confidence only tempered as to not get on the man's bad side. 

"A deal has been made between myself and Jones. You'll be considered part of the crew and will fill in for the member you shot and killed.  During this time you will not take a cut of any bounty we receive until the price on your head is paid in full." The captain responded. "You may discuss Jones's part of the deal on your own time with him." 

It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. Very well- he'd chose limited freedom to a cell any day. "Thank you" He said mustering up as much sincerity as he could and giving Alfred a side glance. 

Alfred gave him a faint smile quickly tilting his head to motion for them to depart, thanking his captain as he did so and turning to leave the cabin. Arthur spun on his heel but before he could take a step forwards William's voice rang out again. "Oh and Kirkland, if I hear any stray word about a mutiny that has passed from your lips. I'll take your tongue."

A small sly smirk threatened to etch itself across his lips however he was smart enough to keep himself straight faced. Of the same breed indeed. "I would never even consider doing such a thing" He responded turning his head to make eye contact with the one in charge. "Thank you for your mercy, Captain. I will serve you well." 

"You better. You're a three hundred dollar investment." 

---

Once they were back out onto the deck a peaceful silence fell between them, Arthur relishing in his new found freedom of sorts and Alfred undecided if he should interrupt the quiet. The sun had long departed by now, leaving the celestial bodies of the stars and moon to paint the night in light. The waves below reflected this light, swirling it in unpredictable patterns before being swallowed by the depths and replaced. The temperature had dropped a few degrees but neither seemed too affected by it. The silence was broken by Alfred who found himself uncomfortable with it. "What was being a cowboy like?" He finally blurted. 

Arthur looked at him startled out of his thoughts at the outburst. "Did the stories I told you when you visited with food not paint a good picture?"

"They did. I just wanted to know if you had more" Alfred responded embarrassed with himself, a  faint red painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Sounds pretty fun." 

Arthur grunted graciously deciding not to comment on how red the other got.  He took a moment to think of his response wording it in a way as to not get too personal. "Fun isn't what I'd describe it as. It's hard work as many things are in life. You have to be observant, be able to think on your feet. A thousand pound animal isn't going to stop stampeding because you told it to. Then combine that with upwards of a thousand other animals of the same size and the horses you're riding on top of it. It definitely makes for a good excuse to always be on guard. But generally things didn't get too exciting. The only 'exciting' thing I could count on daily was the game of: will I get bit by a snake when I get off my horse to take a piss and die a few hours later? Or on a more rare occasion, if bandits would be stupid enough to try to rob us. The real fun happened once we arrived in town after a successful transfer of cattle. Once we arrived we had to load the cows into a train cart then we got paid. After going a few weeks without a bath or proper entertainment I'm sure you can imagine what happened at the saloons" the wink accompanying that statement  went unnoticed. "I'm sure you can relate to such sentiments out at sea yourself. Minus the snakes of course". 

Truthfully Alfred enjoyed hearing Arthur tell his stories. He'd get so enthralled as he talked about his past experiences, spoke with a passion that let Alfred know that Arthur had enjoyed the job. It was one of the times where Arthur became truly expressive, a little less on guard. When Arthur got going his words painted such clear imagery that Alfred hadn't needed to be there to feel like he experienced it. Admittedly as much as he enjoyed hearing him talk in this moment he got… distracted. He accidently ended up staring at his lips briefly, wondering how they'd feel pressed against his own then dismissing the idea and blaming it on the fact he hadn't had much company lately. He blinked shaking his head of any stray thoughts and cleared his throat. It caught Arthur's attention but when he didn't say anything the cowboy now turned pirate continued. 

"I worked in the northern plains. Montana actually. So it has taken me a while to get here. The local deputies and pinkertons had started poking around on a lead that someone matching Arthur Kirkland's description was in town. Some folk from the East must've recognized me while I was celebrating a successful drive. Upon seeing the unwanted attention I decided that frankly I have been chased enough to last a lifetime and thus my decision to come to Europe. Offered the merchant ship my gun if anything were to happen and some cash as well. However nothing is ever that simple clearly." 

He partially processed the others words, nodding along but was too distracted giving the other a once over to truly hear what was being spoken. The older man's attire alone stuck out now that he had been declared part of the crew. The Englishman had a white, tall crowned hat with a narrow brim that was curled upwards on the sides. He adorned a navy pullover shirt made of cotton with a black vest made of the same material. He also wore grey wool pants with an additional layer of fabric to reinforce the seams. Of course his clothing wasn't in pristine condition, various stains and the occasional stitch from where it had been mended littered the outfit. They'd taken away the black bandana that had originally been tied around his neck, fearful that it may be used as a weapon against one of the crew or himself. 

"Wait a minute Arthur. I'll be right back" Alfred chirped, turning to head underneath the deck and deeper into the ship. Arthur watched him go before turning his attention back to the ocean, focusing on the feeling of the breeze in his face and the sound of crashing waves that surrounded the ship. 

Alfred returned with his bandana in tow holding it out and offering it to him. Afterall with the freedom now granted if Arthur wanted to, he'd have better things to use against them than a bandana.  "You will probably need some new clothes more suitable for the sea. But for now we can't buy anything since we aren't in port and we technically aren't making anything off the next several exchanges-"

"We?"

"Oh right! I gave up my cut as well until your bounty is paid off and the credit makes a profit. Technically I promised them six hundred dollars so we're going to be living on some scraps for a while."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion and curiosity, cocking his head as he looked back to Alfred."Why go through all the trouble to save me?"

Alfred gave a disarming half smile upon sensing the others suspicion trying to prove he had no ulterior motives and a shrug. Sure he found him attractive but that was not why he saved him. "There's something about you I like. You're clearly clever, a hard worker and we needed a new member of the crew. And I think you have a story to be told. Would be a shame if it were to end prematurely." 

"Don't we all have a story to tell-" He murmured, shifting his body to lean against the closest mast of the ship and crossing his arms as he was securely balanced. "And you didn't take any of the crew from the merchant ship?" 

"We offered but they declined." 

Arthur gave a hmph of disbelief. Pirate's tended not to give people many choices. The two options usually consisted of join their crew or die which brought the next question to mind. "Are they fish food now?" 

"No, we let them go." Alfred responded. When Arthur proceeded to stare at him with his eyebrows raised for further explanation he continued. "Captain Williams tries to avoid casualties where they can be avoided. He also doesn't like to take people who are likely to turn tail at the slightest hint of freedom. Took a lot of convincing to get him to accept you for that reason. As for your job on the ship you'll have to learn how to rig the sails and some level of carpentry. If those aren't your thing perhaps you could help the doc out and learn from him- or maybe the cook." 

The older male took a minute to digest this information weighing the situation. He supposed it would've worked better for him if they had been killed. There would've been fewer loose ends, less mouths to talk if the wrong parties came looking. Oh well. "And for your information I do know some carpentry and my way around a needle. Ropes shouldn't be an issue either although you'll have to teach me any particular knots you use." 

"Good and no problem. Isaiah is the ship master. He can show you some duties and I'll also be helping out when I can. The others will also show you how we operate if neither of us are available.  We all have a part to play after all. In reality most of our time is spent on ship maintenance."

Arthur couldn't help but be curious."You're going to have to be more specific when you mention maintenance because frankly I have no idea what that entails."

 Alfred paused mentally counting off, his fingers moving from a curled position to straight as he counted with them before disregarding whatever he had been doing. "Cleaning the decks, checking rigging and ropes, checking for any potential leaks or holes and repairing them. You also eventually may get to make sure everything on the gun deck is properly stored and cleaned- just to name a few. Oh and did I mention cleaning bird shit off the deck?" 

"Sounds-" a pause and despite not trying to be rude he couldn't exactly color himself enthusiastic at the prospect "...delightful. When do I begin?" 

Alfred looked smug, probably happy that some of the more unpleasant tasks were going to be now dished out to the newest member of the crew. With a clap on the other's shoulder he chirped "Your duties start right now!". With that he began to back away towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

"Wait where are you going?!" 

"I'm going to sleep. Isaiah is at the stern. I'll see you in the morning!" 

"Where's the stern?!" Arthur called letting his frustration seep out through his words, scowling at the retreating pirate's back. "What does Isaiah look like?" 

"Guess you'll have to figure that out yourself. Goodnight Arthur!"

Cheeky bastard. He didn't even get to shave. 

---

Both their hands were calloused, jagged chunks carved out of them from one experience or another. The years had only added to the collection of scars and disfigurations. The black bandana that had first accompanied the cowboy-ex-outlaw-pirate was now draped over one of each of their hands, both using their free hand to knot the material and bind themselves together. Together, promising to watch over each other despite what altercations that could find themselves apart of. In life and death they'd take care of one another. 

A cheer arose from their spectators as mugs were risen and beer sloshed onto the floor which would promptly have to be scrubbed later. "How about that Mr. Outlaw. You're now properly married to a pirate however fitting that may be."

"Cowboy" Arthur corrected. "I prefer cowboy although, I suppose neither occupation is particularly civilized. And the correct term is matelotage." 

"He does learn! Would you look at that" came a playful quip from one of the crew members. 

"I've learned quite well. It's you who still gets confused when I rattle off cowboy terms at you." A flippant and well timed reply caused snickers to erupt amongst the band of people gathered around. 

Alfred decided to interrupt after chuckling to himself. "Arthur I don't think there's a single civilized thing about you" earning a playful eye roll in response. 

"I don't think either of us have ground to talk" Arthur hummed giving him a small smile. The newly wedded partook in the drinking activities and celebration for a little while until Arthur directed a suggestive and flirtatious wink towards his beloved, earning him a smirk. To further drive his intentions he gave a slight tug on their bound hands. "Boys, thank you for the celebration but I suggest you clear out of the cabins for a while. Enjoy your drinks!" 

---

Alfred found himself ahead of Arthur, deciding to clear some of the rooms up ahead, his gun raised as he did so. Upon entering one he was thrown off balance as someone barreled into him from a blindspot. He stumbled but caught himself, his body twisting to take the brunt of it as his back collided with the wall and he tried to throw off his attacker. They struggled for a brief moment until Alfred found himself a second too slow. A sudden crack filled the space as the weapon was brought down against his head. A sharp pain rattled his skull causing him to fall forward as the stranger stepped away. He nearly face planted onto the wooden floor only managing to distribute some of the weight with his hands, his jaw hitting the floor and causing his teeth to clack together. He helplessly watched his weapon clang as it hit the floor and bounced out of reach. He doubted it would be of much use to him anyway with the way his vision was doubled and the room was spinning. He let out a groan as everything slowly became bearable, rolling into his side to look up at who had ambushed him. 

His attacker stood over him, weapon drawn and pointing at him. Perhaps this was karma for being over confident. In a final act of bravado and defiance he stared at the other man, their gazes interlocked. His pain only manifested through a clenched jaw and partially squinted eyes, managing a cold but accepting smile. "You know I don't like killing civilians. If I were you I'd stand down." Whether the next unfolding of events was pure luck or divine intervention he wasn't sure. An echoing boom sounded from the hallway ripping through the relative quiet of the lower decks. His attacker slumped lifelessly and collapsed partially on him before he could scramble out of the way. He blinked, staring at the corpse before his attention was caught by approaching footsteps. 

"Unfortunately for you, I don't share such qualms" The familiar accented voice of Arthur sounded. 

Alfred scooted away from the body, a relieved smile tugging on his lips and letting his tense body now relax. Needing a reprieve from the close encounter he decided to diffuse the situation with humor. "Took you long enough. I got a smack to the head thanks to you" He said no malice or bite to his words just teasing affection. Feeling the adrenaline leave him and feeling safe with Arthur's presence he took a breath and leaned back, closing his eyes. 

"You're gonna get a smack on your arse if you keep it up" The other fired back, relief flooding his voice as he moving over him and crouched beside him to inspect the wound on his head. Deciding that nothing could be done here he placed a hand on the other cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. "You need to get up Al" He murmured, standing up to a more appropriate height to help him up. He outstretched a hand expectantly. 

"That sounds kind of hot Arthur" He teased indeed, opening his eyes and taking his cowboy's hand. Once up he felt the others hand on his back to support him. He gave a grateful smile before wincing and running his hand over his left temple to see if there was any blood. Thankfully there wasn't. 

"We'll try it sometime if you'd like. But for now let's focus on the task at hand. Just because I'll get your cut if you were to die does not mean I want you dead. Let's get you back to the ship to be looked at by Johnson." 

"We need to-"

"The others have everything under control. You're going to the ship. End of discussion." 

Alfred decided not to waste the energy with arguing especially because Arthur was right. He took half a step, stumbling as his vision doubled again. At that Arthur pressed against his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders for some extra support. "Thank you" he whispered, enjoying the others' warmth. His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle kiss to the right temple. 

"A reminder not to go too far ahead alone next time."

"Of course my love" He agreed. When they reached the doorway sunlight flooded Alfred's vision. He hissed squeezing his eyes closed upon finding a newfound sensitivity to the light. Arthur paused and shifted around a moment before he felt something pressed to the top of his head. He opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight limited by the narrow brimmed hat on his head. It was a little small but it would do. Alfred found himself grateful for the fact Arthur incorporated his old attire with a more seaworthy one. 

--- 

All Alfred knew was that the sensation of having Arthur over him, the other pinning his arms above his head while their lips captured each other's hungrily was addicting. No matter how many times they'd done it for the past few years, it always managed to thrill him to no end. The way their bodies arched into one another, lips worshiping and marking everywhere they possibly could. And afterwards basking in glory as they settled down from their escapades. Surely they realized that with the life they lead they sacrificed the longevity of it to do so. But they could at least enjoy each other until the end of it.