#jonathan: oh look at that funny little man waving his arms out the window

[iamnotcrying-iamallergictolife]

Just trying to enjoy the view of the mountains at night, but my captor won't stop crawling down the castle walls like a fucking salamander and filling me with repulsion and terror.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Silence (Jonathan Crane x Reader)

TRIGGER WARNING: Mental Break Down!

"We got the whole of Gotham running in fear!" Penguin cackled. Two-Face looked to the smaller man. "As they should." Harvey muttered. A figure caught Two-Face's eye, sitting on the bank of Gotham's steps. The figure was familiar. "Isn't that (Y/N) Crane?" Two-Face asked gruffly making the Penguin turn to follow his gaze. "It is. What are they doing out here?" "We should go to them, it's not safe for them to be out here." Harvey spoke before he began to walk towards you. Penguin scoffed. "Given this is Scarecrow's plan, I'd say if anyone is safe, it's the person he married." Regardless he followed suit as Two-Face called over his shoulder. "Move it, Oswald!" "Just don't wave the gun at them, yeah? Crane keeps them away from this stuff." Penguin replied gruffly but did speed up a little to catch up with Two-Face. 

"(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?" Harvey asked. You didn't even look at him nor did you acknowledge having heard him. Your face was void of expression as you sat hugging your knees, staring at nothing. "Oi! Quit with that dumb look!" Penguin snapped but Harvey crouched to your level, the first to sense something wasn't right. This wasn't like you. You never ignored anyone, especially not the rogues. Why would you? It would be a terrible idea. However there was something familiar about that look. "Oswald, call Crane." Two-Face said warily. He nudged your arm carefully and got no response. "Why?" Penguin asked. "Something isn't right with them. See if he knows where they are." Oswald huffed as he pulled out his phone. 

Harvey took your hand and squeezed, you were cold to the touch and didn't respond. "(Y/N), can you hear me?" Harvey asked quietly. No response. "Oi! Crane, we found (Y/N) outside the Gotham's bank. They're acting funny." Two-Face scoffed and reached out for the phone with a glare. "Give me the damn phone, Oswald!" Two-Face ordered and with an eye roll, Penguin complied. Harvey was first to speak when he brought the phone to his ear. "Crane, as he said, we found (Y/N) out here alone and they aren't responding. I think you should come down here, something is wrong. I'm sure of it." There was a moment of silence. "They're awake." Two-Face said. "They ain't responding, just staring into space. You're the doctor here, ain't ya?" After another pause Harvey hung up the phone and passed it back to Oswald. "He's on his way. We'll sit with them until he gets here." "Oh will we?" Oswald remarked. "We will, you do as you please." Two-Face quickly grumbled something among the lines of 'heartless bastard'. 

Jonathan was quick to cup your face. "(Y/N)...? (Y/N)...sweetie-" Jonathan tilted your face to look at him but you didn't respond your jaw slack. He had seen that look many times in Arkham. As a doctor and a patient, the lifeless expression was no stranger to him. Usually, he cared not for it or the person displaying it. Yet you were different. He didn't want to ever see that face on you. He gripped your face tighter. "No...no..." He growled out. The anger hitting him before the pain washed over it. This was his fault. It was all his fault. He tugged you forward. "(Y/N)!" He yelled out. Nothing. "No!" He didn't want to believe his eyes but he knew what he was seeing. He cradled you in his arms, making you lean back slightly. "Look at me." He pleaded quickly. "Come on, (Y/N), you can't leave me here. You can't leave me here!" Tears brimmed Jonathan's eyes. The closest he had ever been to crying in a very long time. 

It was rare for such emotion to be derived from him for someone else. However this wasn't just anyone. It was you. You were the comforting thing in this city. You grounded him. With you, he was never alone. Yet you were in his arms now and he felt you weren't there. With every passing minute, Jonathan couldn't take it. 

The rogues heard sirens approaching and could see red and blue lights reflecting off of the glass windows a few streets ahead. "We gotta get outta here." Two-Face said hurriedly. Jonathan protested, not wanting to leave you on the steps alone.  Edward roughly grabbed Jonathan's arm. "The GCPD are on their way here, they'll see them. They know who they are. They'll take them to safety. We aren't done yet! They'll be fine." Edward shook Jonathan with every sentence before practically hauling him to a stand along with Two-Face before the three fled the scene. 

Edward stared Jonathan down as Harvey began to drive. "They'll be fine. They're completely safe." "They'll be considered involved because I am their husband or the GCPD will think I did something to them...and I did." Jonathan said weakly as he looked down into his lap, hopeless. However the statement made Edward raise an eyebrow and press Jonathan further. "You think they were exposed to your toxin?" Jonathan shook his head. "No." "Then what did you do? You acted like you had no idea what had happened to them." Edward narrowed his gaze. "I didn't but my actions brought them to this. I couldn't protect them from myself because the plan has affected them. A break down." He shook his head slowly. Jonathan looked almost heart broken, a vulnerability faintly visible upon his face. "I didn't trust that they'd be left alone if I asked them to leave Gotham. I thought they'd be safer with me but it forced them to see what we really do and..." Jonathan's voice cracked but it was barely noticeable. The only hint being his pause. "I protected them from all of this because I didn't think they were strong enough. They knew but they never really saw it." "We could have figured something out." Edward replied. "Somewhere safe for them for the time being." Jonathan shook his head. "I couldn't guarantee the Bat or the GCPD would leave them alone." "I'd agree. It's a risk either way." Edward nodded curtly. "I didn't think you cared so much about them to go through such efforts." Jonathan furrowed his brow at Edward. "We're married." He reminded the Riddler. "I know." Edward scoffed. "Doesn't mean much in Gotham, does it? Plenty of married couples who wouldn't think twice about their actions out here. Out anywhere in the world. I didn't take you to be the type to go out of your way this much given your lack of compassion...full stop." There was a long pause before Jonathan spoke. "(Y/N) was the only person who ever really loved me. The only person I ever really loved at the end of the day. If there is anyone that I'd do anything for, it's them." 

It took three days for the rogues to get caught. Naturally, it was not the GCPD who thwarted their plans, it was Batman. It was always the Batman. Scarecrow was practically hauled into the back of the GCPD car whilst Two-Face and the Riddler were put in another. As for Penguin, seemingly he was the first to be caught hours prior. 

The Riddler and Two-Face looked at Crane through at the back windows. As usual, he was calm and collected, his brain working up a plan without worry. "Crane's not been the same since we found them. Scarecrow has completely taken over." Two-Face said. "I can't say I'm surprised, Dent." "You? Surprised? Of course not, Nygma." Two-Face said gruffly. The Riddler sent him a sour look. "It's a typical coping strategy." Edward continued. "Dissociation and such. Crane could tell you himself. He's not shy about it." "He won't say shit." Two-Face replied with a huff. "You know Scarecrow doesn't talk about Jonathan whilst he's out. All that 'Dr Crane isn't here right now, would you like to make an appointment?' shit." Harvey cut in his alter. "For someone who doesn't have two personalities he certainly acts like it." Harvey agreed. "Too complicated for your primitive brain, Harvey?" Edward taunted. "Can it, Nygma. You'll talk your way into a bullet, not out of one." Two-Face threatened. "Oh you'd be surprised how intelligence gets you out of a lot of life-threatening situations." 

Scarecrow was led into the empty off-white room that had a small table and two chairs and a chair of to the side. The moment he laid eyes on you, he was smiling. He seemed unphased that you didn't look at him or talk. You were just as motionless as before. "Hello, my love." He grinned. "I'm afraid you'll be dealing with me for the time being. Not that you seemed to mind much.” "Sit, Crane." Cash ordered. "No, I want to see if my spouse is alright. I'm sure you can imagine how angry I will be if even a hair is harmed upon their head." Scarecrow lifted his cuffed hands, smoothing back your hair. You were much warmer than you were back at the bank. That was good. "Sit down, and no touching." Cash said stiffly. "Don't you have other things to be doing than supervising? It's hardly necessary." Scarecrow said icily, disregarding Cash's words as his fingers brushed against your cheek. He leaned down and whispered something into your ear. Cash never heard it but as Scarecrow straightened once more, you responded. "I love you more, Jonathan." The words were empty just as your expression remained. As though you had no control of it. As though you were so used to saying it, you'd say it without thinking. You had said those words to him so many times. Although there was more sentiment and feeling within them. Not this time. Yet he still felt some relief. Scarecrow smiled as he sat down upon the chair opposite you as Cash stood up ready to make the man comply through force. Scarecrow smiled. "You're still in there, sweetheart."

[grey-sides]

Lucky Day 13 from chrisbitchtree's list with some soft, Mature content. Our prompt is "lemonade" today and if you're wondering, this takes place after Day 5: Spring and before Day Day 10: Sun! You can read yesterday's drabble, here.

Steve’s parents are home and his mom is preparing for a backyard dinner party that’s supposed to happen tomorrow. She’s been freaking out for about an hour though because the forecast is calling for rain now and she’s acting like their house isn’t big enough to host all her guests inside. Steve is just trying to eat some of the cheese her “assistant” cut up earlier without her noticing, chiming in occasionally to offer chair arrangement suggestions.

He’s not planning on being around for the dinner party either way. Dustin is still at camp and he doesn’t like third-wheeling with Nancy and Jonathan, so he’ll probably find himself alone. But that’s fine, his thoughts are better company these days than they used to be. Maybe if he was feeling lonelier or more desperate, he would ask Billy to hang out. But they don’t really hang out. They just have sex and smoke cigarettes and Steve, for his part, pretends it doesn’t mean anything.

Steve’s mom screams when the doorbell rings and Steve jumps about a foot in the air. He crams one last piece of cheese in his mouth and goes to answer the door while she begins swearing in Italian. He doesn’t even think to check out the window who could be ringing their doorbell this late. So it’s quite the surprise when he pulls the door open to find Hargrove leaning against a banister.

“Uh.” Steve snaps his mouth shut and clears his throat. “Hey, man.”

Billy looks over at Steve, it’s kind of dark on the porch even with the lights on, but his left eye looks a little funny. “Didn’t realize your parents were home.” He stands up and looks like he’s going to walk back to his car. But Steve is a little lonely, and a little desperate so he reaches out, fingers missing Billy by almost a whole foot.

“No, you can stay, my dad’s in his office and my mom is busy, they won’t notice,” Steve explains, he’s talking too fast and Billy is going to call him on it.

But Billy doesn’t, he just turns and shrugs, stepping up to the front door. Steve steps back and lets him, closing the door behind him and locking it. He’s ready to just usher Billy up to his room, maybe turn the music up a little loud. But Billy wanders past him to scope out the rest of the house. Steve kind of waves his arms behind him a little bit, scrambling after him because his mom is in the kitchen and Billy does not need to meet her.

But there’s something about Billy because as soon as he steps into the kitchen, Steve’s mom stops her tirade. Steve’s two steps behind, but he can hear her stop shouting and say, very pleasantly, “Ciao.”

Billy chuckles a little and walks over to lean on the island, he probably has that smirk on his face. The one that makes Steve go a little weak at the knees. “Mrs. Harrington, I take it?”

Steve gets into the kitchen, talking loudly. “Hey, yeah, that’s my mom. Mom, this is Billy, he’s a friend from school.”

“School? You graduated, Stefano,” she says, looking at him. Her eyes are a little damp and Steve thinks she may have had a bit more wine than normal.

“I know, but I can still have friends from school,” Steve replies, hackles going up. He doesn’t need the reminder right now.

Billy snorts a little but covers it up with a cough. He flashes Steve’s mom another smile and leans over the counter so his open shirt opens further. “We were really good friends, Mrs. Harrington.”

She looks between them and after a moment, throws her hands up. “Oh, Stefano, where are your manners? Billy, do you want something to drink?”

Steve wants to melt through the floor or die or something because now Billy has to experience the full range of his mother’s emotions all at once. Tomorrow she’ll be serene, but tonight she’s going to lose it a little bit.

“What do you have, Mrs. Harrington?”

“Oh well…” She looks at the empty bottle of wine by the sink and at the empty countertops. “I just made lemonade!”

“That’s perfect, I’ll take a glass.” Billy stands up straight, smiling wider as he walks over to take the glass she hands him. “Thank you, Mrs. Harrington.”

She waves them away and Steve grabs Billy’s arm to steer him up to his bedroom. “Dude, don’t flirt with my mom, that’s fucking weird.”

Billy laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Stefano.”

“Don’t,” Steve growls and shoves Billy into his room. He closes the door, careful not to slam it and incur his father’s wrath. Billy walks around and sits on the edge of Steve’s bed, taking a long drink of the lemonade. Steve heads over to turn on his stereo, he was listening to David Bowie earlier and trying not to feel like Major Tom, so that’s what continues to play.

Billy looks up at Steve and raises his brow. His left eye is a little messed up, kind of red and swollen, but Steve knows better than to comment on it. “I can see where you get your…everything from,” he tells Steve, waving his free hand around. He leans over the bed to put the glass of lemonade down and pats the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

Steve wants to be petulant and not sit down because he’s…well, he’s not sure what he’s feeling right now. But Billy came over here for a reason and Steve let him in. So he sits down, though he doesn’t look over at Billy.

“Hey, I’m sorry for flirting with your mom. And calling you Stefano,” Billy says with a little smile, not at all like the one he gave Steve’s mom just a bit ago.

Steve lays back on his bed and looks over at Billy. “You tell anyone what my full name is and I’ll kill you.”

Billy leans back on his left arm so he’s kind of laying down, but still looming over Steve. He reaches out and traces his fingers across Steve’s face. “Mhmm.”

“I mean it,” Steve says, but the way he softens under Billy’s touch makes the threat lose its heat.

“I know you do,” Billy murmurs, and he ducks in for a kiss. Steve closes his eyes immediately and tucks his hand behind Billy’s head. It’s soft and sweet, a gentle press of Billy’s lips against his own, his tongue just barely grazing his teeth. Steve gives into it, heart thudding hard in his chest when Billy climbs on top of him. He tastes like lemonade and he smells faintly of sunscreen. And his mouth is gentler than Steve thought possible.

They rock their hips together, swallowing each other’s moans and pants. David Bowie manages to cover up most of the sounds. Plus, his parents are probably too far away to hear anything anyway. But they’re still quiet and careful together, sharing breath like it’s their last night together, even though the summer has just started.

But it’s this. This quiet, unhurried movement. The way Billy tastes like lemonade and potential. The way he cradles Steve’s face in his hands. The words he keeps mumbling under his breath that Steve pretends he’s not straining to hear. It’s all of these things that probably make the next week hurt so much, like Billy pouring the lemonade right into an open wound.

(If it's not clear in the text, what happens during the next week is Billy avoiding Steve, flirting with Karen Wheeler, and getting possessed so this drabble runs into "Sun." It's in order in the series, but I do apologize if the time jumps are hard to follow.)

[strangerthingsharrington]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

-18-

We ran out of the movie theatre hunched over to try and not alert Robin and Erica who were still sitting in seats on the opposite side of our row.

As soon as we were out of the theatre Steve and I laughed until we almost couldn't breath. I placed my hand over my chest and bent forward in fits of laughter.

I stood back up and saw Steve leaning against a wall with his eyes closed mid laugh.

I stopped laughing and looked at him. My crush on him had evolved into more than it was in elementary school. I...I really liked Steve. And it was almost soul crushing because I knew that it would never happen.

But in the same breath it felt different between us. I could feel that even in the weird state we were in after being injected. We've defended each other, been stuck in a Russian under ground lair together, held hands, shared looks.

Maybe there was something there, maybe there wasn't. Maybe I'd find out, maybe I wouldn't.

"Lou?" I heard him ask.

I refocsued on his face and smiled, "Steve?"

He grinned at me, "Water time!"

I nodded enthusiastically and followed him to the water fountain, where he motioned for me to go first.

I walked up to the fountain and pressed the button, smiling when the stream of water came up. I bent down and the second my lips touched the cold water and went down my throat, I could feel how dry my throat actually was. It almost became painful as I continued drinking because of how long I went without it.

I pulled back and motioned for Steve to have some, which he did without hesitation.

I leaned against the wall and looked around the empty area.

"I want to watch the movie when I can focus on it," I stated.

Steve make a noise in agreement as he continued with the water.

"I really have no idea what was happening in it," he said breathlessly.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, "He went back in time...in the car I'm pretty sure."

"So he went back in time?" Steve asked.

I opened my eyes and looked over to him, seeing him still bent over the water fountain but his head turned to me.

"Yeah-I mean, I'm pretty sure," I told him.

He furrowed his brow, confused, "But it's called Back to the Future?"

I widened my eyes and nodded, "This is why I need to see this again without whatever they injected into us."

He nodded, agreeing with me, "Do you want more?" he asked, referencing the fountain.

I nodded and walked quickly over to the fountain, Steve stepped aside and I continued drinking more. 

"Wow," I heard him say, "Lou, come look at this!"

I stopped drinking and went over to him, stopping right beside him, "Check this out," he said lightly, "this ceiling is...is beautiful."

I looked up to it and saw the twinkling lights and and glass windows showing off the night sky, it was very pretty.

"Wow," I whispered with a small smile.

The lights began moving, so I started turning in a circle trying to keep up with them. I giggled and continued spinning slowly watching the lights dancing.

And then...oh shit. The wave of nausea that hit was instantaneous.

I stopped spinning and tried to clear my throat.  Saliva filled my mouth and my stomach turned. I felt myself swaying in place.

"Bathroom," I heard Steve croak out.

I looked over to him and saw his pale complexion and knew he was feeling the same way I was.

Not trusting myself to open my mouth, I nodded to him. He took off and I followed him down towards the door marked 'Restrooms,' where he pushed the door open roughly. We ran down the small hallway where we finally got to a bathroom and Steve opened the door leading to a bright room with multi coloured tiles on the walls. Most importantly, I saw the bathroom stalls.

Steve ran to the second stall and I ran into the first one, I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and let everything come up. Not that there was much in my system, but whatever was in there was coming up.

My throat and nose were burning, and I was kneeling there for at least five minutes, where all I did was vomit.

Finally, there was nothing else left. I flushed the toilet immediately and leaned my head back, away from the toilet and tried to catch my breath. My mouth tasted terrible and I was in dire need of gum or something.

I heard the toilet flush in the stall Steve was occupying. I coughed a few times and scooted back to lean against the wall, opposite of the stall.

I felt better. I think I had gotten most of, if not all, of the drug out of my system. I still felt a bit foggy and dizzy but I wasn't sure if that was from the puking or from the drug. All I knew for sure was that I felt drained. But I definitely wasn't feeling as dopey as I had been before.

I heard Steve groan from the next stall.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

"I've honestly been better," he sighed.

I looked up, and felt relief when I saw the ceiling was no longer spinning the way it was out in the hallway.

"The ceiling stopped spinning for me...is it still spinning for you?" I asked.

"Holy shit," he said after a second of silence, "no. Do you think we puked it all up?"

I hummed, "I don't know, ask me something. Interrogate me."

He chucked from the other stall, "Interrogate you...when was the last time you peed your pants?"

I grinned, "Almost today," I told him honestly, "when the guy brought out the saw," I explained through a laugh, "I was terrified."

Steve laughed too, "Seriously?"

I laughed with him, "Almost!" I repeated.

"Yeah it's definitely still in our system," he mumbeled from the other side.

I leaned my head against the wall. My heart was thudding against my chest. I wanted to hear the honest answer to the question that was on the tip of my tongue.

"My turn!" I said breathlessly, "Have you ever been in love?" I wondered.

I sensed the hesitation on his end only for a second, "Yeah," he answered slowly, "Nancy Wheeler first semester senior year," he said, then made the sound of a gun shot.

I nodded, "Nancy's nice," I mused, "I've known her forever because Dustin is friends with Mike...and obviously because of her and Jonathan..."

"Yeah," he said quietly, "Nancy is...she's a good person."

I bit my lip, "Are you still in love with Nancy?" I asked quietly.

"No," he said instantly.

I leaned my head against the wall, "Why not?"

He sighed, "I think I found someone better for me," he told me.

I smiled sadly, "That's good, Steve."

"Yeah...Dustin's been telling me since he got back from camp that I gotta find my Suzie...and this girl...I dont know, she might be my Suzie," he said with certainty.

I felt my face flush. Part of me was hoping he was talking about me. The other part, the more rational part, knew that there was a chance we wasn't. This crush had been growing and festering in me since elementary school, but simmered in high school. The last little while I was having a bit of a...Steve Harrington renaissance. I was feeling something, a real something, for him.

The crush felt unattainable back then. Like I knew he wouldn't be interested in me, because he didn't associate with me. But now with it bubbling back up, and with the shit we'd been through the past few days...I thought we were close.

But hearing him talking about someone who might be his Suzie...that was a lot for me to take in. I was worried I would have to burst the bubble as soon as this was all over.

"What's she like?" I asked, as unwanted tears filled my eyes.

"She amazing," he said breathlessly, "and I just wish...that I had been hanging around her instead, during high school. I dunno, I guess I would've been worried about Tommy H making fun of me or something, or being worried that I wouldn't be Prom King," he said with a hint of disgust.

"Dustin's right though, all that stuff is just a bunch of bullshit," he sighed, "I should have been hanging around her the whole time," he stated adamant, "but I was just too stupid to look around, too stupid to see her.

"She's so funny," he continued happily, "I don't remember the last time I've laughed as much as I have with her. And man...she's smart, like, way smarter than me. She managed to help crack a Russian code and figure out the meaning behind it..."

I felt my eyes widen and my heart stop for a second.

Robin. Did he...like Robin? I wouldn't know how to talk to him about this if he was going to tell me he liked Robin. It wasn't my place to tell him he wasn't the gender she was even interested in. I would never do that to her.

"She sounds really great, Steve," I told him as I brought my knees up and leaned my head on them.

"Lou..." he began quietly, "I really am sorry for the way I acted to you in high school," Steve emotionally told me from the other stall.

I brought my head up and wiped away the tears that I so badly didn't want to be there, "I know."

He sighed deeply, "You never deserved any of that, Louise. You're seriously amazing and...like I told you...I dont want to be part of any bad memory that you have. And I dont think I'll ever forgive myself for making you feel upset."

I kept quiet but...as stupid as it was my heart felt like it was breaking. How could my heart break over something I didn't really have? Steve and I weren't together...he didn't like me...he didn't like me.

"Lou?" he asked, "Did you OD in there?"

I sniffled and wiped my eyes again, "No, I'm still alive," I said with a small chuckle.

Suddenly he was pushing himself from his stall underneath the barrier and into the stall I was sitting in.

"The floor is disgusting," I said as I wrapped my arms around my knees.

"Yeah well, I've already got a bunch of blood and puke on me so," he said brushing it off.

I could help but smile and giggle.

"Why are you crying?" he questioned worriedly.

I cleared my throat and tried to bypass it, "I think just...it's been a lot today and I think it's caught up to me."

Steve smiled sadly at me, "What do you think about this girl?"

My stomach was in knots. But I didn't want to show him that.

I smiled sadly at him and nodded, "She sounds...really great, Steve. You should talk to her about this."

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, that still managed to stay up even after everything we had been through the last little while, "I should never have been such an asshole to you, Lou. Never. If I knew all the shit that I know now back then...no....I never would have done that shit to you."

I spread my legs out in front of me and leaned my head against the wall and looked over to sinks, "An almost end of the world epiphany, I can take that."

"Lou," he said putting his hand on my knee, I looked at him and took in his face. Beat up, swollen, cut, bruised, bloodied. But sincere.

"If I had known you...really known you back then, it would have been different."

I smiled, "You're just saying that because you became weirdly good friends with my little brother. Then you and I got taken by Russian spies and tortured."

He shook his head before the words were even fully out of my mouth, "No, I'm saying it because if I wasn't so blinded by trying to be this popular douchebag, I would have seen how selfless, brave, kind, loving, funny, loyal, strong you are. I would have seen you, Louise Henderson.

"Even these last few months being friends with Dustin, I should have seen it, and I'm sorry that I didn't. This...what? Almost week with you has been more eye opening then my last nineteen years on earth have been."

I smiled faintly at him and sent him a small shake of my head, "Well, like I said, Steve Harrington, I forgive you," I reiterated.

He let out a loud breath through his nose but sent me a tight lipped smile, "Do you get what I've been getting at?"

I tilted my head, "No?" I questioned, confused

He smiled and let out a laugh before squeezing my knee, "I ...think you're great, Lou. Like...really great. And I've developed...a bit of a crush on you," he said breathlessly, "and by a bit i mean a lot, like...yeah a lot."

I sat up straighter and looked at him, "What?"

His eyes moved back and forth rapidly, "Didn't you...I was talking about you that whole time, Lou," he told me.

I breathed out a small laugh, "I thought...I thought you were talking about Robin," I explained awkwardly.

He furrowed his brows at me, "Robin? No, I mean, I really like Robin in the sense that she's going to be one of my best friends for the rest of our lives like I said before. But you're...completely different. You make me feel good about myself, and make me want to be better, Lou."

I couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled past my lips, "I think you still have that drug in your system."

He smiled at me and shook his head, "No...I think I'm finally thinking clearly."

I grinned and shook my head. Just pure absolute happiness was radiating through me. My stomach was in knots but for the first time in a while, it was pleasant.

"Unless you don't feel the same?"

I looked back to him quickly, he looked worried and nervous. I shook my head at him immediately.

"No, no," I told him, "I like you too, Steve. I have for a long time," I smiled.

He breathed out airly and smiled at me, "I'm sorry I was slow to catch up."

"You caught up," I shrugged, "that's the important part."

He looked down at his lap, "Maybe we can go out when this is all done?" he asked, looking back up to me, hopeful, "Like tomorrow night?"

I grinned, "I think...that might be fun," I nodded, "As long as your face isn't hurting too much or anything."

"If it meant hanging out with you without Russians or monsters coming after us...then it'd be worth it," he said quietly, smiling.

"Sounds good then, Steve," I said, trying to hold in the giddiness I was feeling.

"What should we do?" he mused.

I smiled over at him, "Anthing but coming to Starcourt!"

We both began laughing but a second later the bathroom door burst open and in came Dustin, Robin and Erica.

"Okay," Dustin started, "what the hell?" he yelled looking between me and Steve.

Steve and I looked to each other and began laughing again.

"No, no, no, come on," Robin said, stepping up to the two of us, "I know you're both drugged out, but it's not the time," she said bending down to help me up.

I smiled up at her as I stood up with her, "No, we're good now," I said motioning to myself and Steve, "pretty sure we got it out of us."

Relief flooded her face as she nodded, "Okay well, then you can understand this. Don't run off when we're still be chased by Russian guards!" she yelled, irritated.

I looked over and saw Steve standing next to me, we shared a small smile before I looked back to Robin, "Sorry," we said in unison.

She rolled her eyes and nodded before Erica spoke up, "Listen can you two nerds hold it together and not get us killed? I'm tired of being chased by a bunch of Commies!"

"Okay," Steve said raising his hands, "what's the next move?"

“We leave the mall," Dustin began, "get the hell away from Starcourt. We're gonna blend in with the rest of the crowd and disappear."

I nodded, "Okay...okay, so when are we going?"

Dustin looked back at the door, then back to us, motioning for us to follow him, "Let's see if it's done," he said quietly.

We followed him out of the bathroom and down the hall, leading us to the door separating us from the movie theatre area.

Dustin opened the door slowly and I could immediately hear the chattering of people and I figured either the Back to the Future movie or some other movie had finished because people were all around in the lobby where Steve and I had, stupidly, been spinning in circles.

Robin, Dustin and Erica were in front of Steve and I , with Steve standing directly behind me. My hand was hanging slightly behind me with Steve's fingers laced in mine.

Dustin looked back to us for a second before opening the door fully and walking out into the crowd with us following him.

My breathing had picked up slightly, knowing that the guards were still after us and probably milling about looking out for us.

"Well shit, that worked," Erica stated with a grin.

"Of course it worked, we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and we'll be home sweet home," Dustin said, laying out the rest of the plan.

I scanned the area to see if anyone stuck out watching us.

Steve cleared his throat from next to me, "Huh...Dustin...we might not want to go back to your house."

I gritted my teeth, remembering that Steve had said Dustin's name to the Russians. He only said his first name, but I doubt they would have a hard time figuring out who he was. Not that I was angry at Steve at all. Angry that the Russians had gotten to us.

"Why?" Dustin asked quickly.

"I might have given them your first name," he said quietly.

Dustin looked back at us, "What? Why?"

"We were drugged, Dustin," I reminded him, "we couldn't exactly control ourselves."

"So? You resist! You tough it out like a man!" my little brother said sternly.

I swatted him across the back of the head, "Ow!" he yelped looking back at me with a dirty look.

"Next time how about you be the one sleep deprived and taken by Russians, beat up, knocked out and drugged and see how well you resist," I suggested.

Dustin rolled his eyes at me and turned to face forward, while Steve squeezed my hand tightly. I looked up at Steve and saw him watching me with a small smile.  I smiled back at him softly.

"Guys?" Robin said quietly, sounding frightened.

I looked to her and saw her looking straight ahead, I followed her line of vision and saw the two men who we ran into once we were out of the elevator.

"Oh shit," I whispered just as one of the men looked in our direction.

"Abort! Abort!" Dustin called as we all almost began tripping over ourselves to turn around quickly and start running in the opposite way.

We got to the escalator but they weren't on and were totally blocked off.

Robin went to the area between the two escalators and sat down at the top and pushed herself down the metal slide that was between them.

"Come on," Steve instructed, pushing me to go after Robin.

I sat and pushed off and slid down quickly with Robin grabbing my hand to help me up after I made it to the bottom with Dustin, Erica and Steve coming down one right after the other.

"We have to hide," Dustin whispered, "come on!"

We followed behind my brother and ran over to one of the food places and hopped over the counter positioning ourselves on the floor. I sat between Steve and Dustin with my knees pulled up against my chest.

I was trying to calm my panting down, trying to get my breathing to even out.

The second he sat down, Steve grabbed my hand and held it in his. Was this going to be how it ended, after everything we had just gone through culminating with Steve and I expressing that we liked each other...we were all going to die, together, behind the cookie place.

I kept my head pressed against the counter and squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my brother grab my other hand. I opened my eyes and looked to him, but he had his head down.

I could hear the men walking closer to us and I knew this was probably it for us. I was terrified.

Steve squeezed my hand and I looked over to him, his eyes were wide and fearful and I'm sure mine reflected that too. He brought our intertwined hands up and placed it on his chest, where his heart is.

He nodded once and I nodded back. A silent moment between us.

I looked over to Dustin and saw he was now staring straight ahead but he looked petrified with his eyes wide and mouth parted breathing heavily.

I squeezed his hand to get his attention.

"It'll be okay," I mouthed to him silently when he looked over.

He nodded and squeezed his eyes closed. I did the same and braved myself for whatever was was coming.

Then...an alarm was blaring.

I opened my eyes quickly, looking from Dustin to Steve but they both looked as confused as me.

There was a loud crash behind us that made me yell, but it was over in an instant. Steve was the first to make the move to turn and look over the counter with us quickly following suit.

First I saw the bodies of the Russians strewn across the floor of the food court. Then looking to the right I saw the red car that had been stationed in the mall this last week flipped on its side, it had been thrown into another food court store front.

"Holy shit," Dustin whispered.

Steve nudged my arm, I tore my eyes away from the car and looked to him, he was looking up to the second level of the mall, I followed his line of sight and saw them. The rest of the party and Nancy and Jonathan looking over the railing at us.

——

Title credit to REO Speedwagon and gif credit to owner!

[queerbutstillhere]

Hey prompts lover, how about Jon gets turn into a toddler and Damian has to take care of him. Cue baby Jon letting his feeling out from in his little toddler way and Damian thinking they are just baby talk although he wants to believe them + batfam finding this situation hilarious

(Well hey ;) lol, your prompt is my command! This one ran away with me, so it's pretty long lol. So long, in fact, that I had to edit it bc Tumblr told me it was too long. Enjoy!)

"This is why i don't hang out with you, Batson!"

"Robin, look, I'm. Sorry!" Billy whined, trailing after him.

"DD!"

"Shush, Kent."

"Me hungry!"

"I understand," Damian bit out.

Then he yelped as a sharp pain came from his scalp. He shot a glare over to the toddler on his hip.

"Do not pull on my hair."

The toddler pouted, leaning in and pushing his face against Damian's neck.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know, Billy, you're the one with the magical powers, you figure it out."

"Damian, that's not fair."

"Not fair?! Billy, my best friend has just been turned into a two year old!!"

The teen caped crusader flinched away, looking away from Robin's deadly glare.

"Go figure out how to fix this, Batson," Damian grumbled, jumping in the batmobile which he had just summoned.

"Damian-"

Billy's protest was shut down when Damian snapped the lid of the car and zipped away. Jon was sat in the passenger seat, gripping tightly to the door and staring out the window.

"Wee!!" He exclaimed, looking back at Damian with this huge grin.

Damian almost smiled back, but instead focused on the road. He was headed to the batcave as he tore through the late night traffic, keeping an eye on Jon at all times. When he got to the cave, he hopped out, picking Jon up and balanced the Supertoddler on his hip. One think he had learned through his years of being Robin was how to handle kids. He wouldn't say he liked it, but he knew how to do it.

"Oh god, he's becoming you," a voice came from across the cave.

Damian looked up, searching for the voice and found Tim on the platform by the batcomputer. Jon pointed and made a high pitch noise that caused Damian to flinch away.

"Damian. What is that."

He looked even further up and found Bruce hanging from the rafters, sealing a hole in the wall.

"It's a toddler, father. I thought you of all people would know what a toddler was," Damian snarked back.

He pulled off his mask as he walked up the steps towards Tim. Jon whined and wiggled, chubby arms wrapped around Damian's neck.

"Where's my phone?" He asked Tim, walking over towards the table they usually left things on.

"I think you left it upstairs to charge, didn't you?"

Damian grumbled in response, grabbing Bruce's instead.

"Hey-" Tim started to protest.

"Batman!" Jon squealed, pointing as Bruce dropped down near them.

"Shh," Damian gently shushed him, bouncing him slightly to adjust his position on his hip.

"Damian?" Bruce questioned.

Damian just found the proper contact and was preparing to call it when Jon started floating out of his arms. With a sigh, he reached out, grabbing the red cape still attached to the toddler.

"Oh my God. Is that Jon?!" Tim exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Hi Tim!" Jon said in that little toddler voice of his, waving from his now upside down position.

"Kent. Come down," Damian ordered.

"Me fly!"

"I see that. Come back down here."

The toddler just stared at him.

"Jon."

When he still didn't stop floating, Damian reached out, grabbed his little legs and pulled him back down.

"What happened?" Bruce asked cautiously.

Damian sighed and began to explain how they were helping Billy and then something to do with magic happened and next thing Damian knew, Jon was a baby.

"And he still has his powers."

"Some of them, at least."

Tim was snickering, shoulders shaking, hand clamped over his mouth.

"You think this is funny?" Damian snapped, staring at him.

"I think it's hilarious!" Tim busted out laughing, which caused Jon, still floating to start giggling.

Then the toddler started falling. Damian easily caught him, pulling the toddler to his chest as a surge of fear shot through him.

"Well, you should probably call Clark."

"I was going to."

"Other then that, uh? Just keep an eye on him I guess."

Damian shot Bruce a glare. "I do know how to handle toddlers, Father."

Damian ended up changing and taking Jon upstairs after he started whining about being hungry. Alfred was in the kitchen, already informed of the situation. He handed Damian a vegan grilled cheese and had a PB and J ready for Jon.

"Alfie! Hiiiii!" Jon said eagerly, waving as he toddled into the kitchen.

"Hello, Master Kent," Alfred greeted, picking Jon up as putting him in a chair at the island.

"Me hungry!"

"Yes, and I have a fine meal prepared for you," he said, putting it and a glass of milk down in front of Jon.

The toddler grabbed the sandwich and began shoving it into his mouth. Damian watched with mild horror before beginning to eat his own sandwich. He still needed to call Clark.

"How old are you, Master Kent?" Alfred asked.

"Uhhhh," Jon frowned at him, peanut butter all over his face. "Dunno!"

"He still has all his memories and such," Damian commented. "As far as I can tell, anyway."

"Me like Dami!" Jon exclaimed, grinning at him with his peanut butter face.

"I- okay. I'm going to call your father."

Damian shoved the last bite in his mouth and then walked out, running up to his room and grabbing his phone. He called Clark and discovered the man was in Japan and simply got a "you'll have to watch him". So Damian went back downstairs to collect his toddler-bestfriend. Jon was getting tired and clung to Damian tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck, nearly choking Damian. The toddler yawned as Damian held him, chatting with his brothers, who had made their way upstairs, still in their uniforms.

"Dami," the toddler mumbled, his forehead pressed into Damian's cheek.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"Me sleepy."

"Okay, you can go to sleep."

"You sleep with me?"

"I have work to do," Damian said, gently rubbing his back.

The batsiblings had gone quiet, watching them.

"Noooo," Jon whined, pulling away, grabbing Damian's cheeks. "You sleep with me!"

"Jon, no. I have to work."

The toddler stuck out his bottom lip and made a little sobbing noise.

"Uh oh, Damian look what you've done," Dick said, grinning.

"You-" the toddler broke off, whimpering as his eyes tearing up.

"Oh no," Damian said, just seconds before Jon started crying.

"Damian, you monster!" Tim exclaimed. Both brothers busted up laughing.

Jon, crying loudly, pushed against Damian, trying to get out of his arms.

"Jon quit!"

A loud wail met his words.

"Jonathan you're being unreasonable!"

Another loud wail. Jon shoved so hard he almost slipped out of Damian's grip.

"Damian, he's a toddler, that won't work," Dick told him with a headshake.

Damian adjusted Jon, balancing him on his hip.

"Okay! Okay! I'll go to bed with you, okay? Just stop crying! I'm sorry, okay?" Damian exclaimed, desperate to get the shrieking to stop.

Jon sobbed again, blinking at Damian through his tears, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

"Okay?"

The toddler nodded, shoving his face into Damian's neck, hiccuping lightly. Damian sighed, looking up at his laughing brothers.

"I guess I'm going to bed."

"Night, baby bat!" Dick called as Damian carried Jon out.

Jon hiccuped all the way upstairs. Damian walked into his room, kicking the door shut behind him, flicking on a light.

"Okay, Superkid," Damian said, plopping the tiny toddler on the bed.

Compared to him, at 18, this toddler version of his best friend - normally 16 - was absolutely tiny. Like, just reached his knees. He was absolutely terrified of accidentally breaking him.

"Me no Superkid," Jon sniffled out, rubbing his snotty nose.

Damian made a disgusted nose and grabbed a Kleenex, wiping the snot. Jon just looked up at him, that bottom lip stuck out.

"Me Superboy."

"Yes you are," Damian said with a sigh, throwing away the Kleenex. He crouched in front of Jon. "We're gonna figure out how to get you changed back, okay? And hopefully before school on Monday."

Jon nodded.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth, okay? Stay here. Play with Alfred."

The mentioned cat sauntered over, rubbing against Toddler Jon.

"Dami," Jon sniffed out.

"Yes?"

"I luv you."

Damian blinked at him, straightening.

"I. Uh. Okay."

His heart was pounding really hard. And he didn't know why. He escaped to the en suite bathroom, starting to brush his teeth. He could hear toddler Jon chattering to Alfred. Damian hastily scolded himself. He was a toddler at the moment, probably no more then three. He was just being a toddler, and toddler's didn't understand love like teenagers did. He shook his head and brushed it off.

Not that he didn't want it to be true.

After he washed his face and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to sleep in, he walked back out, finding Jon slumped on his side, tiredly patting Alfred's head. The cat just blinked up at Damian.

"Okay, Jon. Time to go to bed," he said, ruffling the kids hair before going to turn off the overhead light.

It wasn't the first time he had shared a bed with Jon. Just usually, Jon was larger then him. He got under the covers, and toddler Jon wiggled his way up to the top of the bed, crawling under the thick blankets.

"Good night, Jon," Damian said.

He fully intended to slip away once the toddler went to sleep. Instead, Jon crawled over and flopped on top of Damian's chest, getting comfortable. Damian groaned slightly, confused.

"Me sleep here."

"Jon, that can't be comfortable."

"Me sleep here!"

"Okay."

Who knew a toddler version of Jon could be so convincing. Jon reached up, squishing Damian's cheeks again.

"Dami, I luv you," he said again, looking sincere.

"Okay," Damian breathed out, reaching up and ruffling little Jon's hair. "Go to sleep."

The toddler scowled at him but laid back down, his little arms hugging Damian's chest. Damian sighed, placing a hand on his back, holding him still while he reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp. Then he settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Toddler Jon loved him. But did Teen Jon?

Why were emotions so complicated?

Damian eventually drifted to sleep, an arm wrapped protectively around toddler Jon. This was a horribly weird situation, but he supposed they could figure it out in the morning.

He woke up to a sudden massive increase of weight on his chest. He groaned in pain and shoved at it.

"Quit pushing!"

Damian snapped his eyes open, finding Jonathan Kent, sixteen, mere inches from his face.

"Kent!"

"Well duh, who else?" Jon grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"You're back!"

"Yeah?"

Jon crossed his arms on Damian's chest, resting his chin on his forearms.

"And you're incredibly heavy," Damian said, scowling now.

"Rude!"

Jon grinned at him and Damian glared back. Then he became aware of Jon's lower half laying in between his legs, his stomach pressing on-

"Okay, get off!" Damian snapped, easily flipping his weight to one side and throwing Jon off.

Jon laughed as he was tossed onto his back.

"Aw, come on, Dames, admit it, you're glad I'm back."

Damian just grumbled under his breath. Jon grinned, reaching over and pinching his side.

"Don't be a butt."

"You need to call your father."

"Hmm. What if I'd rather talk to you first."

"Kent."

"What if I start crying? That seemed to work so well the last time."

Damian tensed. "How much do you remember?"

"Oh, quite a bit," Jon said, his voice dropping. "I remember your heart going crazy when I said I loved you."

Damian was opening his mouth to respond when the door slammed open.

"Damian! I think the spell wore- oh."

Both teens snapped their gaze over to Billy Batson, in Shazam form, staring at the two of them, laying in bed together.

"Well... i guess you already knew that," Billy said, stepping backwards.

"Good assumption, Batson," Damian said coldly, eyes rolling.

"I'm just. . . I'll go. Hey Jon."

"Hi Billy," Jon said, laughing to himself.

Billy quickly retreated.

"Have I ever told you that i like him?"

"Go back to sleep, Jon," Damian grumbled, kicking his shins.

He rolled onto his side, glaring at the wall. Jon laughed, and then suddenly pressed himself against Damian's back, an arm slipping over his waist.

"I meant it," he murmured.

"Wait, what!"

[loisinherlane]

4, 15, 18!

rimi ily <3 <3 <3 <3

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

Sometimes! Sometimes I don’t use an outline at all, and sometimes I outline while I write. If it’s a shorter fic, I probably won’t use an outline unless I get pretty far into it and need to stop. And then I usually scribble down which scenes I plan to write. I definitely need an outline for longer fics, but I sometimes start writing first so I have a better sense of what the fic is going to feel like. How far I stray really depends on when I outline. If I outline first, I may stray for pacing or plot purposes. If I outlined in the middle, I might stray a little when I realize I want more scenes.

15. A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be? 

Ohhhh, that’s so hard. Maybe Past Tensions? I wrote it as kind of a commentary on superhero stuff, so I feel like it would translate relatively well. On the other hand, I would absolutely love to see the Single Dad Clark AU adapted. Yes, it’s not “one” fic, but it’s kind of still. one fic.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

:3c This question excites me so much. I had to skim through a few fics to decide just one, but I did it... even if it’s a long scene, so it’s under a cut. (Scene from Infinity and Apple Pie, very spoilery!)

When Brainiac took Metropolis, Kon had been in Hawaii. He couldn’t enjoy the sunshine or the waves, but he could sit there and remember how they’d felt. Some days, that was enough.

I really wanted to drive home how being a ghost feels, especially since I hadn’t addressed it much in the fic. Kon hadn’t really thought about the problems before because it hadn’t really sunk in what being dead entailed. And by this point, he’s really starting to miss being alive, seeing how little he actually gets by hanging around. But he’s still doing.

He didn’t hear a thing about Metropolis until one of the families started a ruckus.

“Mom! Mama! Metropolis is gone!” The kid on their phone yelled until their moms came rushing over. Kon could hear the video from his spot on the sand.

Gay, gay, homosexual, gay.

  “—aerial view reveals that Metropolis, home of Superman, has vanished without a trace. A clear line marks the area, through bridges and—”

Kon shot up.

  “It’s as of yet unknown whether Superman was in Metropolis at the time—”

Even if he wasn’t, Lois and Jon Samuel probably were. Kon flew to Metropolis first—or rather, where Metropolis was supposed to be. Just as the news reports had said, it was gone, leaving nothing but a sunken patch of dirt and dozens of crumbling bridges. Other heroes from neighboring cities had already sprung into action.

“Let them save everyone,” Kon hoped and turned for Smallville instead.

I’m not very good at writing action scenes, so I was hoping for a minimalist effect in describing the damage.

Kon remembered the first time he’d been in Smallville during tornado season. Ma and Pa had settled in the living room, peeking outside every so often to look at the clouds. The meteorologist had warned everyone to settle in a room without windows, a basement preferably. But they insisted.

“We’ll know when it’s time to go underground. We can’t keep an eye on it down there,” Pa had scoffed.

Tornado Alley rights! Bitches love watching tornados!

It wasn’t surprising to find them on the porch for this, the sky less green clouds of a thunderstorm and more a pink-gray haze. Unnatural but just as fascinating.

“Our boy will save the day,” Pa promised now, clutching Ma to his chest. Kon found himself filled with the urge to fly back to Gotham, find Tim, just in case—

But Kon didn’t go anywhere. He stared at the sky and waited. After all, Superman would save the day.

When the clouds receded, Pa turned to Ma and grinned. “Everything’s going to be alright now,” he promised. Then he froze. He lifted his right hand to clutch at his left arm.

“Jonathan,” Ma said. She looked up at the sky. “Clark!”

Tim had made everyone on Young Justice take first aid. Kon recognized the signs too easily. He couldn’t do a thing to change it.

So, this was where I really wanted Lara’s warning to come into effect. Like, yes, she had been warning about everything else Kon had watched. Yes, he’d had to watch his girlfriend join a cult. Yes, he’d had to see Tim try to clone him. Yes, Bart died. But I think there’s something really scary about seeing a family member in pain like this. And the difference between the Kents and the superhero world is how mundane this is. Pa has a heart attack. In canon, he dies because Clark can’t get there in time. Here, Kon has to watch, and it’s so different.

“Do you want to watch this?” Lara asked. She sat on the Kents’ porch swing, a real picture in her Kryptonian garb, all finery against cracked wood.

“Pa’s having a heart attack! I can’t just leave!” Kon snapped. “I have to be able to do something! Clark can’t hear him. He’d be here by now if—”

“Clark!” Ma wailed, a little louder.

“Kon-El. There is nothing you can do,” Lara said firmly. “Please, stop torturing yourself.”

Ma couldn’t hold Pa up by herself. They’d both slumped on the ground. Pa’s head lolled to the side. He stared at the porch, eyes squinted. “C— Conner…”

Kon’s face went white. “He—”

I know someone asked me about this, but yes, Pa sees Kon because he’s dying. :) This would be very effective in an actual comic, I think.

“You don’t have to watch,” Lara said.

“No!” Kon shouted. “I’m not letting go. Pa can’t die. I’m still here for a reason!”

“Because you refuse to—”

“That’s right. I refuse.”  Kon stood a little straighter before taking flight down the road into Smallville proper.

There was only one hospital in Smallville, and the EMTs sat outside the ambulance bay to watch the storm. Kon sunk to his knees in front of the first.

“Help me,” he begged. “Please, please hear me. We need help. At the Kent farm. Jonathan Kent had a heart attack. Please.”

“What a storm,” the first said.

“Prob’ly one of those alien attacks again. You saw that report on Metropolis, right?” The second lifted her phone and started scrolling.

“Listen to me! Please, you have to help! At the Kent farm. Please!”

The third leaned to look. “It’s back now?”

“Weird,” said the first.

“Please,” Kon said. “Please. My grandpa is dying!” He slumped forward.

“Did you hear that?”

Kon lifted his head. The second EMT had narrowed her eyes, skimming the area.

“Please,” he said more frantically, “my grandpa is dying! He’s had a heart attack. At the Kent farm! Hurry!”

“We… we have to go to the Kent farm,” the second EMT said, standing up. “Now.”

“What?” the third asked. “We haven’t gotten a call—”

“We have to go,” she said firmly.

I considered having Kon track an ambulance down on the road, but I was like, wait, how would I make it clear he’s not taking an ambulance from someone else who needed one? How would he even find an ambulance? Would Smallville have more than one? This seemed neater.

Kon let out a breath of relief and rode in the back of the ambulance all the way back to the farm. When the sirens reached the front of the house, Ma looked up and sobbed in relief.

“Help! My husband—” she yelled.

The EMTs started their work without hesitation, and Kon’s eyes watered.

“I did it,” he said.

“Did you?” Lara asked. She hummed. “Your medicine is so primitive. I hope it’s effective.”

“Don’t start that right now,” Kon snapped.

Lara tilted her head. “I’m… not. I hope you can save your grandfather’s life.”

Kon stared at her, twenty-five and never growing older, a woman with so much potential who had lost everything save the opportunity to see her son. “You never moved on,” he said.

Lara smiled. “No. I must admit that I… find enough gratification in seeing my family,” she said. “And Jonathan Kent cared for my son when I could not. I will never have enough gratitude to the people who loved him as much as I do.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was trying to do with Lara at first. The longer I built up the “afterlife” in this world, the more I realized I didn’t have a good excuse for her to be there. After all, Bart and Kon weren’t staying dead when they moved on. They were coming back to life at the right time. I didn’t really want to answer any actual afterlife questions either, so I didn’t want to say Lara was coming back and forth just to visit Kon and help him.

Then I wrote this scene, and it hit me. Lara is watching over Clark. It’s interesting to build her character because she’s so often neglected for Jor-El. I wanted her to be a slightly awkward, clinical mind. And I really wanted to drive home her loss in comparison to the Kents. If Pa died, it would be sad, but he’s also not a young man. Anyway, this fic kind of works if you consider any Mr. Oz stories as a possibility because Jor-El isn’t even really mentioned. Lara is dead for sure. But Jor... Who knows?

Clark arrived just as the EMTs had loaded Pa into the back of the ambulance, an old flannel and jeans thrown on. “Ma, is Pa okay?”

In canon, he arrives as Superman, but he couldn’t do that here.

“They’re taking him to the hospital. But he’s— he’s—” Ma sobbed and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Oh, I don’t even know how they knew to be here. Praise the Lord.”

The second EMT ushered them both into the back of the ambulance. “It’s funny that you say that,” she said. “I… I could have sworn I heard a boy yelling. ‘My grandpa had a heart attack. On the Kent farm. Please help!’ Something like that.”

Clark and Ma exchanged looks.

“Jon Samuel is—”

“In Metropolis, with Lois,” Clark said. “No, he’s not— He couldn’t have—”

The best/worst part of writing is trying to use as few words to say something as possible. Clark and Ma know something is up, but they don’t know how to address it. They know it’s not Jon. But also, how could it be anyone else? Especially considering the complicated familial relationships Kon has, it was fun to try to put together the right words.

Lara held out her hand for Kon. This time, he took it.

[cherrybracelets]

call out my name [b. hargrove x reader]

song inspo | masterlist | smut playlist

word count: 4.2k / warnings: 18+, smut! alcohol mention

an: y’all i didn’t mean to go awf this hard but like. i did. i haven’t written in a while so i guess i came back with a bang (literally lmao)! pls leave feedback and reblog if you like!!!! and check out my masterlist for my other writing!!!

“You know how much I hate going to stupid shit like this,” you groaned, leaning back in the passenger seat of Billy’s car. You were staring out the window, moping and frowning.

“Oh c’mon, you’re always so negative. Can you try and have a little fun for once in your life?” Billy turned to you, rolling his eyes. This was a usual argument between the two of you- but somehow he always ended up winning and dragging you to whatever party he was excited for that weekend. And he was wrong- you never had fun.

You were great as Billy’s wing-woman, always talking him up to whatever conquest he was on that night. He would offer to do the same for you, but you were never interested in any of the boys that were at these types of events. You’ve tried it, and it’s never... well... satisfied you.

“Thank you for coming, really. I know you hate it... but I couldn’t do it without you,” Billy said, smiling at you.

“I’m glad I can help you get laid, kid. That’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life.” You jokingly gave him a slight shove on the shoulder, laughing as he rolled his eyes and groaned at your comment.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all you’re good for. You’re my best friend... honestly, my only friend. You’re more to me than that...” Billy sounded serious, and put a hand on your knee to reassure you that he cared about you. It was honestly the first time Billy had ever showed you any kind of affection, other than getting drunk and flirting with you.

“Thanks, B. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said,” you responded, placing your hand on top of Billy’s and squeezing it. You had always been attracted to him, but you knew everything about him, and it scared you a bit to get too close. But every time he touched you, even in a friendly way, it sent shock waves through your body.

You and Billy finally arrived at the party, fashionably late as always. Most people were already pretty drunk by then, and Billy did not hesitate to catch up, taking a few shots immediately upon arrival. You grabbed a beer from one of your friends, not wanting to get obliterated tonight, figuring you’d have to drive Billy home.

“We’re starting a game of truth or dare, you guys wanna join?” Steve asked you, downing a shot and gagging as the liquor hit his stomach.

“Seems a little childish, Steve,” you teased, taking a long swing of beer and letting the alcohol run through you.

“Oh, fuck off. You know you want to play,” he responded, shoving a bottle of vodka in your face and forcing you to take a sip. You took a small swig, feeling the liquid burn your throat as it went down. You felt more alive immediately, deciding to agree to whatever antics your friends were getting up to tonight.

“C’mon, everyone’s in the living room!” Steve lead you and Billy into the room, where everyone was sitting around and chatting amongst themselves. You took a seat next to Nancy and Jonathan, who were all over each other, sloppily kissing between sips of tequila. You rolled your eyes at the duo, but deep down longing for someone to love you the way they loved each other.

Steve plopped down on the couch next to you, causing a little bit of your drink to spill on you. You yelled at him, pushing him away jokingly as you dumped a little of your drink on his lap to make him angry. He put his arm around you and kissed the side of your head. Billy was staring daggers at the both of you, flinching every time Steve put his hands on you.

“(Y/N), you wanna come sit by me?” He asked calmly, trying his best to not punch Steve right then and there. He didn’t know why he got so angry when another guy touched you- you watched girls touch him all the time and never said a thing. But his blood was boiling, and he couldn’t take another second of it.

“I’m fine, B. I don’t feel like moving,” you responded, not picking up on Billy’s anger.

“Yeah, B! You heard her, she’s fine right here with me,” Steve teased, clearly way too drunk since he thought it would be funny to make Billy angry. Steve brought his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You didn’t mind it, although you both knew the two of you would never do anything in a million years. He wasn’t your type, and you weren’t his. Steve was just trying to see how mad he could make Billy before he blew up. It was just a stupid dick measuring contest that they had ever week, but this was the first time you’d ever been in the middle of it.

“Okay, but let me know if he starts bothering you at all. I promise I’ll take care of it.” Billy didn’t take his eyes off Steve’s arm, his nails digging into his skin to stop him from yelling. Billy was trying to be a lot better when it came to his anger- especially around you. He knew what he was capable of, unfortunately, and never wanted you to see that side of him.

You caught a glimpse of his face for just a moment, his eyes dark with rage and jealousy. You’d never seen him look at anyone like that- especially you. You just chalked it down to him being angry at Steve, because they were always fighting, but something in the back of your mind kept telling you it was you. He was mad because it was you.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, are we ready to get started?” Steve clapped, finally removing his arm from you to officiate the game. You immediately watched Billy loosen up as Steve let go of you.

“Ready as ever,” Robin responded, taking a drag of a cigarette and winking at Steve.

“Well, I’ll start us off then.” Steve searched the room, looking for his target. His eyes locked on you for a moment, making your heart stop as you thought about whatever he was going to throw at you.

“(Y/N),” he said, deviously. He grinned at you, a chaotic and devilish sort of grin that made you extremely nervous.

“Oh god. Why me? I’ve barely had half a drink!” You laughed nervously, trying to avoid eye contact with Steve.

“Truth or dare, babe,” he flirted, eyes wide as he waited for your response.

“I’ll stick with truth, I think.” You took another large swig of your beer, trying to numb your anxiety over this stupid game.

“Who in this room would you have sex with?” Steve smiled at you, eagerly awaiting a response. You glanced around the room quickly, not sure how to respond.

“Well, it’s definitely not you Steve, sorry to break it to you,” you responded, hoping your funny answer would shine away from the actual question. The whole room burst out laughing, including Steve.

“Yikes, Harrington. That’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” Billy responded, feeling relieved at your answer. “How many girls in this room have rejected you now? Three?” Nancy and Robin looked at each other and laughed awkwardly, and Steve just threw back another mouthful of vodka.

“Hey, she didn’t say she’d fuck you either, alright. Don’t get too cocky,” Steve said, darting his eyes between you and Billy. “So who would it be then, (Y/N)? If it’s not me?”

Your eyes glanced around the room again, momentarily catching Billy’s. You didn’t want to say it, you didn’t even want to feel it, but it was him. You’d been wanting him to touch you for so long, to feel his lips on your skin, his hands tracing up and down your body. But you couldn’t say it- not here, not ever. He was Billy Hargrove, he fucked models and milfs and pageant queens. He didn’t fuck girls like you.

“I guess I’d fuck Robin. Only girls know how to please girls,” you responded, raising your eyebrows and winking at Steve.

“Anytime, gorgeous,” Robin responded, blowing you a kiss and giggling. Billy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the thought of you being touched by her, being kissed by her, turning him on a lot. He tried to shake the thought of his head, but couldn’t get it to go away. He was staring at you, wondering what you looked like under that stupid shirt that was covering way too much.

“I wanna go next.” Billy said, his eyes locked on you, almost as if no one in the room was there except for you and him.

“Alright... have at it,” Steve answered.

“(Y/N), truth or dare?” Billy was leaning over now, inching closer to you as he awaited your response.

“Jesus, can you guys leave me alone?” You laughed, rolling your eyes at the group. You were watching Billy, though- the way he was so focused on you. You were a little curious at what exactly he had to ask you. “I’m going truth again. I don’t trust you guys.”

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Billy stared at you, and the whole group was staring at you as well, eager for whatever story you were going to tell. It wasn’t exactly the question you had planned for him to ask, and you didn’t understand the point. Why would he want to know that?

“Um... I don’t really know,” you responded quietly, racking your brain for something to say.

“C’mon, just think! Who’s given you the best orgasm?” Nancy asked, leaning in towards you. You still didn’t understand why anyone was as curious as they were. Who gave a shit about your sex life?

“Honestly... I haven’t actually...” you trailed off, your words only coming out jumbled and confused.

“Wait... are you a virgin?” Steve asked, looking at you shocked.

“No! No... I just haven’t had a guy... do that for me, I guess?” You looked around awkwardly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone for too long. You felt extremely uncomfortable, even though this wasn’t your fault, you still felt embarrassed.

“Shit. That’s unfortunate. Well, if you ever want to see what a real man is like... I know what I’m doing. I think Nancy can attest for that,” Steve laughed, giving Nancy a little shove and taking a drink.

“I am absolutely not getting in the middle of this, thanks,” Nancy answered, rolling her eyes at Steve and moving closer to Jonathan.

“Oh please, if anyone can show her a good time you know it’s me. And she already said she wanted it,” Robin responded, sticking her tongue out at you and Steve and winking.

“I’m gonna grab some water, I’ll be back,” you said, standing up quickly and walking away from everyone. They quickly moved on from you and continued their game, laughing away at whoever else they could poke fun of. You walked into the kitchen, unaware Billy had followed you in.

“Hey...” he said, making you jump a bit as his voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey, what’s up?” You folded your arms and turned towards him, a little annoyed at him for asking that question in the first place.

“I’m sorry I asked that. I honestly didn’t mean to make you upset.” He genuinely looked sorry, his eyes avoiding yours as he stared at the ground.

“It’s fine, it’s just a little embarrassing...”

“How is it embarrassing? I guarantee you that you made all of those guys finish. It’s on them for not being good enough.”

“But what if it’s me? What if there’s something wrong?”

“Well... have you ever... on your own?” Billy was shaking, the thought of you touching himself sending rushes of hormones through his body.

“Yeah...”

“So then it’s clearly nothing wrong with you. You’re just not with the right guys.”

“Well who is the right guy?” You almost immediately regretted saying that, knowing exactly what you were implying when you said it. You knew it was him, you knew what he was capable of, what he could do. You wanted him to take you so badly, to show you what it felt like to have a real man fuck you.

“I could think of a few people.” Billy responded quietly, his mind racing. The thought of making you cum for the very first time was already making him hard. He was digging his nails into his palms to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working very well.

“What are you trying to say, Billy?” You looked him over, seeing the tension building in his body.

“Nothing... I mean... why don’t we go home. I want to go home.” Billy turned around quickly and grabbed his keys from his pocket, heading for the door. You followed without saying a word, worried that whatever you did upset him. You felt a nervousness grow in your stomach as you trailed behind him, his steps angry and fast as he headed outside.

You didn’t even say bye to your friends, sure they have already drank enough to forget you existed all together. Your mind was only focused on Billy, trying to figure out what was going through his.

“Billy can you slow down!” You yelled to him, walking faster and faster to keep up as he sped towards his car.

“What do you want (Y/N)?” He snapped, turning around towards you and gritting his teeth.

“Why are you mad at me?” You pouted, feeling your heart sink as his eyes were dark with anger. But what you thought was anger was actually lust.

“I’m not... mad at you,” he responded, his voice softening as he realized he had hurt you. “I just... it’s complicated. You’re my best friend... the way I’m feeling about you right now... it could mess everything up.”

“How are you feeling about me right now?”

“Like I want to make you fucking cum.” His eyes were staring at your lips, his body shaking.

“You think you’re the guy to do that?” You teased, placing your hand on his face and rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

“I fucking know I can.” He was tense now, not used to be talked back to in the context. He didn’t like it.

“Then show me, Billy. Fucking show me.” Billy walked away from you and into the drivers seat of his car, without saying a word.

“Get in.” He commanded, starting the ignition of his car. You quickly slid in the passengers seat and he started driving before you could even close the door.

“Billy-“

“Don’t say a word. I’m taking you home, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You turned towards him, focusing on the way his jaw shifted as you called him ‘Sir’. He wasn’t sure he could make it all the way home. He had never wanted- or needed- anyone this bad.

He sped quickly down the back roads to get home, ignoring speed limit signs urging him to slow down. You were soaked, never having a guy treat you like this before. He was on a mission, and he wouldn’t stop until you were screaming his name.

He pulled in the driveway of his house and turned his car off quickly. He got out of the car and slammed his door shut without saying a word. You knew you were supposed to follow him, he didn’t have time to tell you what to do. He was saving all of his energy for what was about to come.

The moment you walked through his front door, he had your back against the wall and his tongue shoved down your throat. Kissing him was just how you imagined- perfect. His lips still held the subtle taste of tequila and the chocolate cupcakes you had shared earlier.

“Billy... your parents... Max...” you tried to whisper, urging Billy to move you to his room before someone caught you.

“Fuck everyone except for me and you.” He looked in your eyes for a moment, his body pressed against yours. You felt him growing in his pants, wanting desperately to feel him inside of you right then and there.

“Yeah. Fuck everyone. But also, fuck me. Please, B. Fuck me,” you said, giggling as Billy sloppily kissed down your neck, leaving little bite marks to mark his territory.

“C’mon, lets go.” Billy took your hand and led you to his bedroom, the two of you quietly sneaking down the hallway.

Once you got in the bedroom, he had you back against the door again, kissing you. He bit down on your bottom lip, making you squeal and giggle a bit. You felt Billy smiling through kisses- he loved your laugh, nothing made him smile more than hearing it. Especially now, knowing you were happy made him happy.

“Get down on the bed. Clothes off!” He ordered, turning away from you and pulling his own shirt off. You nodded at him and did as you were told, taking off your shirt and shorts quickly. You were hoping to get some action tonight anyways, and were wearing one of your favorite lacey black bra and thong.

“God damn...” Billy whispered, letting his eyes trail up and down your body. He hand instinctively reached down to his dick, where he started slowly rubbing himself over his boxers.

“Come over here, B... let me take care of that...” you flirted, getting on your knees and begging for him to come over to you.

“No, not tonight. I’m gonna take care of you, princess.” Billy grinned devilishly at you, licking his lips as he thought about his plane to devour you. “Have you ever had a guy go down on you?”

“No, honestly.” You laughed, your whole body shaking as you imagined Billy’s tongue playing with you.

“What a shame. Can’t say I’m upset about being your first, though. Just know no guy will ever compare to me,” he winked, walking over to you and pushing you down on your back.

Billy started kissing your lower stomach, his lips tickling your flesh and making you giggle. He moved onto your inner thigh, sloppily kissing and licking you, making you squirm as he slowly trailed to your cunt.

He toyed with the edge of your thong, pulling at his as he continued to kiss around you. You bucked your hips towards him, trying to non verbally tell him you wanted more. He got your message, and pulled down your panties completely. The room was cold, and made you shiver a bit as your icy air hit your bare skin.

Billy finally moved his lips to your sweet spot, kissing you lightly before flicking his tongue quickly. He moved rhythmically, each movement planned out perfectly. He had a routine, he knew what worked. And it was working. You were dripping, your whole body filling with pleasure with each second of Billy devouring you.

He started moving his tongue quicker on your clit, making it unbearable for you to stay quiet. You let out a small moan, throwing your head back to the ceiling as you felt yourself get closer. Billy stopped for a second to look up and smile at you, enjoying every minute of this.

“Don’t stop, B. I was close!” You yelled, running your hair through his curls and brushing it out of his face.

“Shit... already? I guess I am pretty good,” Billy responded, winking at you and giggling.

“Oh fuck off, pretty boy. Don’t get too full of yourself, it’s unattractive.”

“Are you saying you don’t find me attractive?” He pouted, jokingly.

“I’m saying if you don’t make me cum soon I’m gonna find someone else who will.” You winked at him and crossed your arms, trying to be serious.

“Damn... whatever (Y/N) wants (Y/N) gets, I guess...” he responded, before biting his lips and going back down on you. He moved faster this time, and a bit sloppier. His tongue seemed to be focusing everywhere, not just your clit. You grabbed onto his hair and ran your fingers through it, gripping his head as he worked his magic.

You felt a wave of pleasure come over you, your whole body shaking in delight as it knew what was about to happen. Billy knew, too, and started moving rhythmically around your clit again.

“Holy shit, Billy,” you moaned, reaching your climax intensely as he continued to taste you. You felt it through your whole body, something you had never experienced before. You were shaking, coming down from the best high of your life. Billy sat back from you, licking his lips to get one last taste.

“Now it’s time for the real show,” he teased, blowing you a little kiss before digging into his drawer and pulling out a condom.

“I don’t know if anything can top that,” you responded, taking off your bra and throwing it to the ground.

“Just wait, baby doll.” Billy took off his boxers and you saw him for the first time- all of him. He was hung, unlike anyone you’d ever been with before. You were a little intimidated, but you had never wanted anything so badly.

Billy tore open the condom and slid it on, slowly pumping himself a few times as he looked at you. He positioned himself at your center, toying with your clit with his tip. You moved your body towards him, not liking all this teasing. Billy just smiled at you, before slowly sliding himself in.

It took a minute to get adjusted to him, feeling a little uncomfortable at first when he had his full length inside of you.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing you flinch.

“Yes. Just not used to... well...” you giggled, running your hand over Billy’s face as he laid above you.

“I’m huge, you can say it,” he winked, kissing you lightly on the lips as he started to move slowly inside of you.

“I’m sure you’d love for me to tell you how big and hot you are, huh?” You kissed him again, bringing his face closer to yours.

“And I’m sure you’d love for me to tell you how fucking hot you are and how much I love your body?” He was moving quicker now, his pumps rhythmic. He grabbed underneath your thigh and brought your leg up over his shoulder, letting him pump deeper and faster in you.

“F-fuck,” you muttered, throwing your head back in pleasure as Billy fucking you deep enough to hit your special spot with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muttered, fucking you faster and harder. His other hand was holding your face, his thumb running over your chin and lips.

“You’re gonna make me cum again, you’re so fucking good Billy. Holy shit,” you whispered into his ear, knowing how much he loved to be praised. He was smiling flirtatiously, loving the way you sounded when you moaned his name.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how good I fuck you.” He got on his knees and pulled your waist up towards him, continuing to thrust deep and fast into you. You knew you were close again, the warmth and excitement growing through you again.

You couldn’t seem to get any words out at this point, just small moans and nodding to let Billy know to keep doing what he was doing. Billy understood, and didn’t stop or slow down. He brought his hand over to your clit and started rubbing lightly, just enough pleasure to bring you over the edge.

You moaned loudly this time, your vocals of pleasure echoing through the quiet room. Billy just laughed, continuing to pump, getting close himself. He slowed down a little bit, knowing you were probably exhausted and ready to tap out.

“Billy... you’re literally so fucking good... and so fucking pretty,” you said to him, bringing your hand up to his face and holding it in your hand. He smiled at you, but not the lustful smile you were used to seeing. A small, warm smile, his brain flooding with happiness at the sound of you calling him pretty.

You felt Billy getting a little sloppier with his movements, and speeding up just a bit. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and let out a low groan, cumming inside of you, filling you with warmth. He pulled out quickly, discarding the condom in the trash and laying back on the bed next to you.

The two of you sat for a few moments in silence, his hand holding onto yours tightly. You were staring around his room, a room you’d been in a thousand times before- but things looked different now. You didn’t exactly know what different, maybe it was yourself.

Billy turned towards you, his hair messy and sweat still layered on his forehead. He smiled at you, bringing his lips to your cheek and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“So, I have to ask... am I the best you’ve ever had?” You asked, kissing his neck and tickling him with your lips.

“Well, I know I’m yours,” he responded, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Whatever, don’t flatter yourself,” you said, rolling your eyes and pushing at Billy’s chest playfully.

“You might be my best, though.” He looked at you, a small grin forming.

“I’ll take that.”

[shedoesthings]

I Need To Know - Part Six

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

(Imagine the car window not being smashed for this part!)

Billy’s words seem to grate on me for the rest of the day. He was so incredibly cocky, acting as if he knew anything and everything about me. He knew nothing. He met me yesterday! How could he have a clue about anything?

‘Driving miss daisy?’

What was that? He didn’t have a clue how I felt about my life, he didn’t know what I wanted, what I needed, my plans for the future. Not to mention his demeanor, his constant winking, the attitude of a self-assured asshole with his head too far up his own ass to consider anyone else around him. And that damn smirk, that stupid damn smirk…

“Y/N…” Harrington sings as he practically skips down the hall towards me. I turn and laugh as others stare and laugh along.

“What can I help you with Harrington?” I laugh, closing my locker and leaning against it as he stops in front of me.

“Oh, I know you can help me because I have a pocket full of quarters and some intense feeling inside me which says I neeeeeed to play dig dug” he laughs. Steve had a strange obsession with dig dug whenever we went to the arcade. He was never any good, in fact he was crap. He could never get close to being on the leader board, but damn he did try.

“Well I think your craving can be quenched. Say six?”

“Perfect! Couldn’t think of anything better!” he smiles, picking up my bag from my feet and swinging it round his shoulder along with his own. He was still in grovelling mode, he knew there was no need, after a trip to the arcade we were always back to normal, but he decided to carry on anyway, and I did nothing to stop him. We walk towards the doors, still laughing together. He opens the door for me, holding it as I get through.

“Steve!” a voice shouts as it closes behind us. I turn to see Nancy stood in the hallway watching us walk away.

“Hey, Nancy’s calling you” I say, grabbing Steve’s arm lightly to make him stop.

“I know. I heard her”

“Have you not spoken to her yet?”

“No, I have” he says, looking at the ground around his feet. “She pulled me out of gym right when your new boyfriend ripped the ball out of my hands”

“New boy…” I begin to question before I realize who he’s talking about. “He is not my boyfriend” I say, shoving Steve’s arm as he laughs and begins to walk away from the school, probably to make sure Nancy doesn’t reach us.

“Whatever you say Y/N” he jokes.

“Stop changing the subject anyway!”

“I basically reminded her of everything she said last night, since she was apparently too drunk to remember” he says as we reach his car. He unlocks it, swinging both our bags in the back before we both climb in.

We talk the whole way home about what happened. How Nancy forgot the whole thing and pulled Steve out of basketball to ask why he hadn’t picked her up this morning. Steve told me how he asked her if she truly loved him, and she said yes, but she couldn’t actually say the words. And I could see the heartbreak behind Steve’s eyes, and the smile of him trying to be strong. He tried to brush it off, as he always did in these situations, but I knew him, and I knew how he was really feeling.

“Are you sure your okay?” I ask as he pulls up outside my house. “We don’t have to go to the arcade tonight, we can do a movie and ice cream night?” I suggest, since that was what he did for me when I was heartbroken that Grayson hadn’t asked me to the winter formal in middle school, since then it also became one of our regular solutions to suffering.

“Nah” he laughs. “I think the arcades a good solution for this one. Plus, I gotta get rid of these quarters somehow” he says with a smile. I smile back at him, I only wanted what was best for him, so if that was what he wanted, that would be it. “Six?”

“Six” I smile, closing the car door and waving as he drives off.

---

Six o’clock soon came around and I was running late. I had tried to call Steve’s house, hoping to catch him before he left, tell him I would be about ten minutes late since I had lost track of time doing some homework. But his mom picked up, telling me he had already left but was sure he wouldn’t be mad.

When I finally got to the arcade, I was twenty minutes late, I practically ran since I didn’t live too far away. When I got there, I was ready to do some grovelling of my own, tell him I had tried to ring, tell him about the homework and wait for the onslaught of jokes to come of me being a nerd. But I was wrong. His car wasn’t in the car park. He couldn’t have left already?

I rush into the arcade, hoping he was there somehow. That’s when I spot Mike, Nancy’s little brother with all of his friends. They look up from the game their playing, some roll playing one about slaughtering a dragon, before waving. Dustin was the one currently playing, but he still looks up and waves, clearly making him loose the game.

“Shit!” he shouts, kicking the machine. “Piece of shit!” I laugh and roll my eyes at them. I had never expected to know this group of kinds, but like I said before, when I became friends with Jonathan last year, things took a strange turn of events, now I shared more secrets with these kids then most of my high school friends.

Its Dustin who I need to talk to. Ever since last year the pair have become friends, but not in a weird way, move like a sibling relationship, I know Steve see’s him as a little brother now, so by default, I kind of took an older sister roll, to all of them really.

“Henderson” I smile as I walk towards the party.

“Y/N!” he cheers, the others cheering with him “Long time no see girl” he says, attempting a smirk before showing his teeth and doing some awkward growl thing. I give him a funny look before I burst out laughing.

“Nice teeth man, but please never do that again” I laugh.

“Told you it wouldn’t work” Lucas laughs, shoving Dustin’s arm lightly.

“I’m telling you, the ladies can’t resist these peals” he says before doing the growl again.

“What’s up Y/N?” Lucas asks after a second of glaring at Dustin.

“Any of you guys seen Steve? Has he been in here at all?”

“Haven’t seen him since the other day” Dustin replies.

“Not see his car outside? Nothing?”

“Nope. Sorry Y/N” Lucas replies. I see Mike pull more quarters out of his pocket and look around to see what games are free, suggesting my time here is short lived.

“No worries, cheers for the help guys. Enjoy!” I smile.

“Wait, wait!” Dustin splutters. “Are you sure you don’t want to hang with us for a while?”

“Dustin” Mike says quietly, clearly impatient.

“No, don’t worry about it guys. I’m sure I’ll catch you later. Stay safe!” I smile again as I turn on my heels and walk towards the door.

---

I’m check my watch again. Ten past seven. Where the hell is he? He didn’t call before I left, there’s been no sign of him here, no sign of him before I got here. Nothing. Where the hell is he.

I can feel my impatience grow. I didn’t feel annoyed, I could just feel some slight irritation since I had been waiting here so long.

I pull out the pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket and light one up. At least if I was smoking, I wouldn’t look so weird for standing outside the arcade for so long. Then, the rev of an engine as it pulls into the car park.

Of course. Of all the places in Hawkins, of all the places in the world, of course it had to be him, at this time as well.

“Be back out here in an hour or…”

“I know, I know. Or I’m skating home” says a girls voice. I see a red headed girl climb out of the blue Camaro.

“Hey! Watch the attitude!” his voice shouts as she slams the door and rushes past me into the arcade. I hope for a second he hasn’t seen me, that he just drives away. My irritation was already high, I didn’t want to have it raised anymore by him. But my hope disintegrates as the engine turns off and a car door opens. He gets out and walks closer, leaning against the passenger side door so he is facing me.

“Can I help you Hargrove?” I say blankly as I blow smoke out of my nose.

“It’s funny. For someone who was so sure that we’d only speak once we sure seem to be running into each other a lot.”

“You do have a bad habit of appearing right when you’re not wanted”

“See, I think I seem to appear when you need me most” he smirks, which makes me scoff.

“When have I ever ‘needed you’”

“Well, you needed my cigarettes last night. You needed my car this morning for a ride. I’m guessing they’re my cigarettes your smoking now.” He laughs. “And I’m also guessing your needing something to do now, or do you just plan of standing outside the arcade for the rest of the night like a weirdo.” Maybe he had a point… No. I didn’t need him, he just happened to be convenient recently.

“I’m waiting for Steve”

“Again?” he laughs, but there’s a hint of pity in this laugh. And the pity had a point. This had happened a lot these past few days, me waiting around miserably for someone who wasn’t turning up. “Come on” he says, patting the passenger car door before walking round to the driver’s side.

“Come on where?” I didn’t want to be curious, but I couldn’t deny a part of me was. What else was I going to do with my night? Wait around here for Steve who probably won’t show, just to go home and spend the weekend alone, waiting to see him on Monday for whatever apology he would surely give? Or maybe… be a little impulsive? No. I didn’t know him. I met him yesterday, how could I go off somewhere again with him, especially at night…

“Just on a ride?”

“Where?”

“I thought I was the one who asks too many questions” he laughs, smirking again. “I’m not gonna force you Y/N, the choice is yours. If you want to wait around here all night in the cold that’s up to you, or you can come for a drive, and maybe, actually have a bit of fun for once” he says with a smile, but his voice doesn’t sound dirty like it usually does, there’s an actual hint of friendliness about it.

“You’re not gonna murder me?” I ask, partly to be funny, partly out of worry.

“No” he smirks. “The second you want to go home, we’ll turn around and I’ll drop you off. Deal?” he says with a wink, licking his lips. I take a second to look at him. His leather jacket and red shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a little muscle. His eyes staring up as me, the streetlight adding a little glint in them. A rush of cold air blows and pushes me into making a decision as I step towards the car.

“Deal”

Requested Tags x 

@savingprivatecass @nightshade7117 @xxcxrolinexx @justmesadgirl @silver-winter-wolf @mynameispurple @leslxo @noodlenerd101 @non-binarycryptid @thefandomzoneisdangerous @writteninthestars288 @frenchieswiftie @dreamwavej @itsanallygator @idjitdestiel @rosehargreeves @slvtherinseeker @florenceivy @bandsandanimefreak @spn-marvel-nerd @majesticmarvelnerd @canny1902 @blablasomethingblabla  @i-bitch-you-bitch @keira1416 @ashadowoftheforest @queenbbarnes @thecynicalviolinist @salemlysi @hardygal69 @billyhargrovescigarette @hella-anxious 

[alias-b]

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 8: Time After Time

A/N: Gahhh! Billy and Camille feel some time pass. Changes on the rise. Holidays and new year. New threats. The Party has to rally again for it all. Light sexual content starts here.

  “Let me help you with that, Mrs. Wheeler.” Camille hurried to pull three hot pies from the oven. The sweet smells filled the house around them.

  “I think I burned this one a little.” Karen frowned.

  “No, it looks and smells amazing, I promise.”

  “And your mother doesn’t want to come? I always love her fashion trend advice, I feel like I'm ahead of the curve.”

  “She'd appreciate that. But, no, we had lunch and she had a flight to catch.” Camille helped with desserts while Nancy started the coffee pot.

  “Smile.” Jonathan flashed when the three women huddled together in front of an island full of cookies, pies, and cakes. The doorbell sounded so Mike raced by Joyce and Will helping Holly open her new toys.

  “Mike, cool it.” Karen laughed. Her house full of family and friends enjoying the winter night.

  “Sorry,” he whipped open the door to see Eleven and Hopper. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” she offered a gift and he let them in. Mike made some introductions, hand in El's. Hopper had an elaborate story set up for her adoption.

  “I’m going to get us set up!” Dustin pulled at Will who followed him into the basement to help get their game ready. Steve was sorting gifts around and the doorbell went off again.

  “I got it,” Karen paced to open it, standing taller. “Oh? You.”

  “…Mrs. Wheeler.” Billy cleared his throat and peered down at Max. Camille poked her head around the corner to see him, glittery gold eyeshadow caught the light to make her sparkle. “Just dropping my sister off.” Sister. She'd forced him to help carry her many gifts to the door. Billy saw Camille there in a red dress and realized now that Max played him.

  “Max!” Lucas smiled and stilled when he spotted Billy.

  “Let me take those,” Karen bit her lip and handed some off to Steve so he gave them to Jonathan.

  “Hargrove.” He began, hard.

  “Harrington.”

  “Santa’s head elf this year, huh.” Steve watched Karen go into the living room. Billy shot him a tense look. Lip quirking.

  “You’re the one wearing that.” Billy gestured. Steve yanked an elf hat with ears off his head.

  “I'm wearing it for the kids.” He played it cool.

  “None of us asked you to do that,” Lucas teased, beckoning for Max to come in.

  "Happy Hanukkah?" Max grinned, earning a laugh.

  "Always appreciated." Camille smiled to greet her and met Billy’s eyes.

  “Sinclair,” Billy huffed and Lucas stilled. The teen relaxed, shrugging when he was flat. No animosity toward these people trying to celebrate with each other. Billy remained outside it all. “Merry Christmas.” Lucas gave an odd look of acknowledgment and ushered Max to join their friends.

  “You really got to him. Christmas miracles do exist,” the kid muttered and Max laughed at that. Camille approached, patting Steve’s shoulder when the two boys stared. She noted they both relaxed.

  "Hope you got more than coal this year."

  "I got this one." She eased and Steve crossed his arms, following after Lucas and Max too. She opened her mouth but Karen appeared again.

  “Billy, it’s snowing out. Come in for some dessert and coffee.”

  “Ah, I couldn’t,” he was jerked forward when her arm looped into his to walk him into the kitchen. Camille cocked her head and everyone in the living room tried not to laugh.

  “Billy, hi.” Nancy clasped her hands, intrigued. “Welcome.” Karen went into the other room to grab more paper plates.

  “Why is this so weird between you two?” Camille muttered, looking entertained and Billy rubbed his neck.

  “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “Nancy, this is weird. Isn’t it weird?”

  “It is weird, Camille.” Both girls crossed their arms and Billy cursed himself.

  “You know…that night. I got the Byers’s address from her. Might of…you know. My thing.” He hissed through his teeth when she got close to him.

  “Thing?” Nancy made a face at that. "My mom?"

  “Oh, no. Billy, ew. Bad idea. Bad. I might be queen bee but Karen Wheeler is like an entire swarm of them.” Camille covered her lips. Nancy giggled across from them, pouring coffees to take them off.

  “Worked at the time.” Billy whispered and they stood straighter when Karen appeared with a piece of apple pie. “Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.”

  “Karen, please,” she waved him off. “You’re welcome to stay.” Karen looked between the teens and hurried to help Nancy with the coffees.

  “I really shouldn’t.” He gave that smile again so Camille bit her lip. “Time to run?”

  “Oh, yeah, or you're not making it out of here alive.” Camille pushed at his back to help him escape, they both chuckled together. Stopping in the doorway, she produced a tiny package from her pocket. “You know, I figured you'd be the one dropping Max here. This is for you. Open it.” He tore the paper and saw an ornate, silver ring. Patterns pressed into the metal. “Something small,” she explained when he slipped it on his middle finger. “I had them etch a Hebrew word on the inside.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “Trust.” They locked eyes and he pulled another small box from his pocket, looking smug when she was surprised. Camille opened it, lifting a simple golden chain bracelet from the gift. Billy pulled from his own stash to get her something she'd like.

  “It’s beautiful. Is that…?” She let him clasp it on her wrist. A single, small charm hung from it. Circular with a peony pressed at the center.

  “Now you have one that can’t die on you. And I still had to ask which damn one it was so I didn't pick the rose because you are the first girl in the history of girls to hate roses.” He joked to make light of it. Camille stepped closer, his breath hitched.

  “Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his hand and their moment was interrupted.

  “Hey, keg king,” Steve cleared his throat. The couple came apart when he pointed up. “You know the rules.” Mistletoe hung above them. It wasn't there when Billy first arrived. “Who put that there? I wonder.” Steve flashed a huge grin and left them defenseless.

  “The real King Steve, huh? Might have to thank the guy.” Billy remarked and Camille turned to face him, all pretense gone. Blue eyes burned into hazel ones. Sparkling and bright. She watched his face change. Christmas lights played soft against their faces. Camille gave the slightest nod to signal him. Forgiveness would not echo in one perfect instant but the choice to heal opened up a million beautiful possibilities unseen before.

  Billy lifted a hand, fingers grazing her face; thumb rubbing a circle into her jaw. Camille came up closer on her toes when he tilted her chin up. He thought of the Halloween party. How badly he wanted her. How that never ended for a moment. Their foreheads touched, his eyes fluttered to close and she flickered her own across his expression. One of desire and peace. All at once. Camille touched the back of his neck, pressing gently and he waited for her. Only for her. So patiently that he vibrated when her lips touched his. A sweet kiss like an exhale against cool night air. Like waves swaying upon a California beach. Billy opened his heavy eyes framed by thick lashes. Her fingers shifted into his curls before she pressed her lips up to beam.

  “Bye.” He uttered, thumb sweeping down her jawline.

  “Goodnight.” Camille opened the door and watched him get into his car. Billy peered at her waving and took off. Somewhere to watch the stars and be alone so he didn't have to return to Neil's house yet. He touched his lips and had to open the window so cold air could caress his face. A smile found him. Camille went back inside and gave Steve a smack when she rounded the corner.

  “Real funny.”

  “Hey, I didn’t bring it. I still can't stand the guy. I’m just the height man.” He pointed at Max. "More afraid of her than I dislike Hargrove." The kids all paused.

  “Busted,” Mike teased.

  “What?” Max laughed when Camille’s arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. “I…didn’t have a present for him this year.”

  "You and I are going to have a conversation." Camille replied but, the younger girl was amused.

  "I hope it ends in thank you, Max."

  “Guys! We’re ready down here. Come on!” Will grew excited.

  “Never played,” El had whispered.

  “Neither have I really. Never had a party,” Max shrugged, holding out a hand. “We could learn together?” El blinked and took her hand, smiling when Max did to follow her down. Nancy kissed Jonathan and crossed over to give Camille a cup of coffee.

  “Cream and sugar.”

  “You’re awesome.” She cocked her head. “Guess we better join them.”

  “I am not wearing the elf costume.” Steve followed them down and Camille laughed at him. Holiday music colored the air while lights twinkled. A night that was wholly beautiful.

  “Steve, the party demands it.”

** ** **

  1985. A new year came for them all. Snow coated the grounds of Hawkins, giving them a few late starts to school. Camille breezed through the hallways.

  “Think you might be overdoing it?” Nancy pressed near her locker while Camille shifted books about.

  “Yesterday, I wrote a full page in Japanese. I picked up ballet again like it was nothing last week. And I also absorbed every cool action move I could. I cannot be stopped. I need an ass to kick. It’s like my brain is overflowing. Also…not the most exciting thing but without our housekeeper, I’m cooking more for me. Food channel…super helpful. Who knew?” Excitement laced her tone.

  “And your mother?” Nancy wasn’t sure if she could call her that now.

  “I don’t think she suspects anything.” She shrugged. “And you know that El’s abilities are different from mine. But, she helped me some with the whole…moving things part. Gift for all the tutoring so far. It just feels like that little girl always belonged in my life. Like we'd been looking for each other.” Camille paused when Billy passed, backpack in hand. He winked and she stopped a grin from splitting her lips, turning aside to look back at her locker.

  “What’s happening there?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I mean, we talk more and do assignments together. I told him that I’d help him in chem. Keep his dad off him. He's a...a strict guy. We kissed at your Christmas party but…we’re friends. He has a lot to make up for and I’m…kind of content. Where we are, you know? Billy and I are friends and trying to find that footing again.”

  “But, you like him.” Nancy was matter-a-fact. "And I'm assuming the continued quiet, longing looks and the less making rounds is a signal he likes you."

  “Yes, but, I don’t…fully forgive him for that night. He’s trying, granted. Things are different. I feel it. But, it was awful. I’m working on that and, you know, Nance… I’m glad I told you…about the…” Camille touched her stomach and Nancy nodded. “I have not had a relationship since that. Many, many out of school flings aside.”

  “You want things to change but not too quickly. Odd, but I get it.” Nancy followed her down the hallway. Heather joined them when they got outside.

  “We’re all going to the diner for hot chocolates.” She offered. “Invite Steve and Jonathan…if it isn’t weird, of course. I was going to invite Robin, I owe her big for all the chem notes I borrowed.”

  “Not weird, Steve and I are friends now,” Nancy shrugged, eyes elsewhere. Billy’s jacket provided warmth to Camille in the snow. A commotion caught their attention ahead, stopping the conversation. Camille hurried forward to see it around her car. The driver’s side window smashed in. Billy was there as Max had pointed it out seconds before.

  “What the hell…” Camille pushed students to see it. A brick sat in the passenger seat.

  “Careful, the glass,” Max spoke when the teen got the door open.

  “Take anything?” Billy craned his neck.

  “I’m… No, I don’t think so.” Camille was visibly shaken. "Did anyone see anything?"

  "Saw it when I was skateboarding down to meet Billy," Max shook her head.

  “Break it up,” Mr. Clarke pushed students of all ages to go, save for her friends. “Ms. Harper, are you alright?”

  “Yes, I’m…” Camille saw numbers marked into the brick when her gloved hand picked it up. 006. She gasped and turned it down. “I don’t think they took anything.”

  “Hey, what happened?” Steve and Jonathan had joined the circle.

  “Camille, you can’t drive that.” Nancy touched her lips and pointed. A large puddle melted the snow under the car. Mr. Clarke was kind enough to look under.

  “Camille,” he agreed and got serious, “they cut your brakes.” She looked up from him to see her friend's eyes, horrified. Stuffing the brick into her backpack so no one saw it.

  “I’ll call the police.” Heather offered. “We’ll get you a tow.” Billy touched Camille’s back when she came out on shaky legs.

  “Can I have a ride?” She trembled so he gave a nod without a thought.

  “I can take Max home,” Jonathan offered. Will and the kids caught up with him. Billy didn’t refuse, peering at his sister to cock his head.

  “Stay with your friends. About an hour. Susan said she was out for some appointment today and my dad is home alone from work there.” He’d replied so quietly. Hands in his pockets. Jonathan nodded in turn. Max pressed her lips and agreed.

  “Shit,” Dustin observed the car.

  “Language.” Their teacher chided, coming back from looking the vehicle over. “Everyone, let’s clear out. We’ll get this taken care of.”

  “You okay?” Max asked first and Camille shook her head but yes found her lips.

  “Go on with Jonathan. It’s cold out.”

  “Heather is still on the phone with a tow, but Hopper’s on the way.” Nancy spoke behind her.

  “I’ll go inside to report this too. Ms. Harper, will you be alright until the Chief comes?”

  “Yes, Mr. Clarke, thank you.” Camille touched her heart, speeding in her chest. He left and she produced the brick so her friends could see it. They all gave awed expressions and she was hard. “They’re coming for me.”

** ** **

  “See anything?” Camille cocked her head as Hopper observed her car. He took the brick and had police comb the area. They got Heather to go home and Jonathan took the kids, leaving Billy, Nancy, and Steve.

  “Nothing. Any threats prior to today?”

  “Aside from my dad’s whole room of experimentation evidence and monsters from another dimension attacking us? No, sir, not a one.” Camille shrugged and came to his side, eyebrow raised. “If I’m in danger, so is El.”

  “I know that,” Jim hissed. “Try to think.”

  “Could be people left still at that place. We both knew it wasn't over. Government secret types, who knows. Our housekeeper was jaded about the firing like a switch flipped. She was one of them too. You know, she fooled me better than my own parents did. Stung. Someone to watch me like a…handler.” Camille saw Hopper peer at Billy in question. “Oh, he knows. You remember him. The sweet blue Camaro. ...Snores.”

  “The narcoleptic bully, yeah. I definitely remember.” Jim was flat, turning. Steve snorted and Billy shot him a glare. “I’ll look into the housekeeper. Don’t go anywhere alone. Where is Rosemary?”

  “She’s been on trip after trip. Probably down a bottle of wine and few pills wherever she is.” Camille shrugged. “I called her to tell her about the car, left out some details. She offered to come but I said no. So, I have a few days to myself. If our housekeeper was invested into the experiment, why would my mother get rid of her?”

  “Frankly, that’s what makes me nervous. They both know too much, why split?”

  “Unless mother wants it to be done as well. But, wouldn’t they take me?” She exhaled cold air and he pressed a thoughtful expression.

  “Plan some sleepovers.” Jim ordered and she gave a salute.

  “Yes, sir.” Camille watched as they hooked her car up. “I liked this stupid car. Damn it.”

  “Tell me about the room with his work?” Hopper stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  “Attic. Never been allowed in…things got suspicious. So, we broke in."

  "We?"

  "Yeah, Billy and I. He helped me. It's...how he knows about me too. The attic had every single detail of my existence carefully mapped.” Camille tilted her head. Jim eyed Billy again, causing the teen's eyes to shift elsewhere.

  “Will Rosemary be back Saturday?

  “No, not till Sunday night or Monday morning.” She replied.

  “I want to see it. The attic.” Jim nodded. “Six o’clock.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “For now: go home, you do your homework, and do not investigate this. None of you.” Hopper scanned the teens, shifting to walk off and radio Flo. “Go.”

  “Thank you.” Camille offered, sighing. “Just when things felt calm.”

  “We’ll find whoever is behind it,” Nancy assured her. “If you need a place to stay this week, you can come to my house.”

  “Appreciate it. I'll see you later.” Camille pressed her lips and her friends left while the car was pulled away. Billy unlocked his vehicle to let her in.

  “My dad will be there.” Billy hesitated. “I’m not supposed to see you. Not in this setting.”

  "What setting is that?" Camille stared over the roof of the car and he puffed, hand on the door.

  "Friends." He'd offered the word quietly like he might be wrong, hurrying to get in so she followed.

  "I shouldn't... It'll get you into more shit."

  "No, I don't care. I'm never going to be out of the shit. But, I wanted to tell you."

  “Don’t mind to face him with you. I could tutor chem tonight.” She was softer so he drove off. Luck was on their side. Susan hurried to see Camille, having just gotten home too.

  “Neil ran back out to pick up something from the office. Max told me your car was broken into. I’m so sorry.”

  “Bit shocking.”

  “Billy, that was nice of you to stay with her.” She regarded her stepson and he gave a curt nod. “I have hot apple cider in the kitchen.”

  “May I use the restroom?” Camille hurried away when Billy gave her a light push.

  “She’s, uh…shaken up.” He broke the awkward silence between him and Susan.

  “I can imagine.” She poured two mugs. “She can stay as long as she likes tonight. Don’t worry about Neil, I’ll tell him it’s for school. If she's assigned to tutor you, then you really have no choice in the matter.” Billy lifted his eyes as if to thank her without words. “Go, get warm.” Camille appeared when he turned down the hall, two mugs in his hands.

  “Come on, Harpy, you’re trembling still.” He gestured with his chin so she got the door and shut it behind them. Billy handed her a cup and turned on music to drown out their voices. His mess of a room was a welcomed sight to Camille.

  “It has to be them. I knew it wasn’t over. Why would it be? Monsters aside. Human ones are always more persistent.” She exhaled, sipping when she sat on his bed without thinking. Billy joined her, drinking. “I don’t understand.”

  “What?” His curiosity won.

  “Why me?” She whispered after months of tearing herself apart for it all. “Why did I get out to live a lavish life and no one else did? How can I live with that?”

  “Should ask why if it wasn’t your fucking fault.” Billy said after a beat. “Hell, I sound like you now.” Camille broke to chuckle, drinking more while the steamy mug warmed her hands. Billy followed until he saw her eyes change upon meeting them. Camille set her mug aside, gaze fixed on him. She took his mug next, placing it away. “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking.”

  “Got to stare at me to do that?” They drew closer when he tried to joke and she felt herself quiver.

  “How is it you said exactly what I needed to hear?” She tried to put her demons to rest. At least for tonight.

  “Because, I…” Billy glanced aside and panned to focus on her gaze. Unyielding. He didn’t know why the urge struck him to weep. Honesty drew so raw. “We’re friends, I guess. Picked up some new skills.” Such a thought made him scoff. He chased and chased. Every trick and tease. Failed. And still found exactly what he’d needed this moment in time.

  “I want to try something.” Her usual dangerous words cut into him. Billy froze when her hands cupped his face. She came up on her knees, sinking down to kiss him. Hands tugging for his collar. More of a thank you. A thank you that turned into a I fucking care about you. He responded against her mouth, hands grasped her elbows to bring her closer. I fucking care. Sometimes I can’t stand it. I don’t want it to stop.

     Then, don’t.

  Billy drowned in her this time, fingers bunched fabric until they fell against his bed. He went for her neck, angling her jaw with one firm hand to place kisses down her skin. She sunk fingers into his hair and caressed all down his back. Nails raked over fabric. Billy felt her adjust, legs opening until he wedged between them. Heat swelled. Poured over. Drowning in fire. Breathtaking.

  Foreheads touched and he pressed himself into her. Just enough for the pressure to tip higher. Legs squeezed his hips. Friction sparked over their bodies. Admittedly, he hadn’t been with a girl in weeks. Body wasn’t into it after all that happened. Not since before their ruined almost date. Flirting aside. Couldn’t lose that charm. That reputation. Billy moaned into her, quiet and stimulated. A husky sound that made her shiver. He rocked his hips, aroused and wet through denim. One hand was under her sweater, squeezing her breast before fingers shifted the bra cup.

  “Camille,” he uttered, tongue slipping against her lips. He traced his thumb over her hard nipple, rolled it between his fingers. They rocked together. Needy and panting.

  “Almost,” she hitched a whine and he rubbed against her, mouth open on her throat. Arms squeezed him into her body. Worked up teens in need of some basic release. They grew inflamed. So close. Billy was teetering, barely undone, when the front door sounded and smacked closed. He jumped off her and Camille fixed her clothing. They scrambled so she came to the floor, tearing a book open to pretend she was studying. She laid on her stomach and crossed her legs, still heaving on air. Billy shoved a pillow in his lap and grabbed a book she tossed up at him. Footsteps shook the hardwood before Billy’s door hit the wall.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hargrove. My, what a lovely tie that is.” Camille watched him open his mouth and close it upon seeing her. My, what big teeth you have, was the tone she claimed. She nestled into the shaggy rug, grinning and he smoothed the tie out in response.

  “You again. It's...new.” He’d warned Billy to stay away. Neil smiled instead, quick like a flash. Doting dad of this fine family. “What’s all this?”

  “Tutoring. Billy's one of my assignments.” Big eyes blinked with innocence and she answered so Billy didn’t have to.

  "Figure a girl like you to have several assignments." His jab struck her.

  "I guess a girl like me enjoys keeping busy." She didn't bow. Owning it. "I'm greedy like that."

  "What's the subject?"

  "Chemistry, sir." She dared this man to step over her to get to his son. Triple dog dared him.

  “And the topic, Billy?” Tension seeped into the room.

  “Ah…just chemical bonding. Chemical reactions. Start with the basics and build it up from there.” Billy made it sound as sexual as he could. Camille gave a breathy sigh, silent and frozen. “Like, synthesis. Right, Camille?”

  “Mm hm. How astute. Ionic bonds.” Camille’s addition made Billy bite his tongue. “Covalent bonds. The real exciting stuff…big test coming. I think with my careful instruction, Billy will nail it.” Her bright smile drew calculating and Billy almost lost it there in manic laughter. It reflected in his eyes. “He passed the quiz last week.” Her bragging of him swelled more heat. Neil was the one burned.

  “Ah. Good, I suppose. Wouldn’t put it past him to cheat, I’m afraid. So, look out.” Neil watched her swallow a hard lump in her throat. Billy’s cheeks were bright pink still. Hair messed. “I’ll let you two study. See if you can bring my son’s grade up more. We’ve given up trying.” He turned and jerked the door shut. Camille let out the air she was holding and Billy’s head fell against the wall.

  “Warn me sooner before you jump my bones next time.”

  “Bold of you to assume. Next time.” Came her teasing. It shouldn't have felt this natural. Being here together. Camille slipped back up onto the bed, sitting against the wall next to him. “You can go finish if you want.”

  “I kind of, uh, already did.” Billy hitched to scoff. “Fuck.” He hurried to his feet to change his pants and underwear in a tiny walk in closet.

  “Talk more chemistry to me.” She played a flirt when he eyed her.

  “Still something else, Camille.” His remark sobered her expression. Pretense lowered again.

  “Can I stay the night with you?”

  “Might have to pretend to drive you home and sneak you back into my window.”

  “Mm, you’ve clearly done this before. Clever boy. We’ll leave early for my place before your dad realizes. Max can come also for the day if she isn’t going to friends. Hopper said six in the afternoon.” She waited until he joined her, sitting down. “Billy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I appreciate…you’re trying. I just wanted you to know that.” They peered away from each other after a beat. Slowly, his hand lifted to curl into her own in her lap. Camille took his hand in both of hers, head tilting to his shoulder. Billy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “I want you.” He tried again because he fucking meant it.

  “I know.” Camille came up to see his eyes, hands tightening around his. “I want you too. But, I’m…not sure if I’m okay with it yet.”

  “You were right.” Billy sat back, eyes turned aside. Surprise flooded her. “My brand or whatever. Queen bee. I chased your skirts because of that. The more we teased. The more aloof you were to me, after every move I pulled. The more I wanted you. Call it shitty, it is. Stupid ass high school game, I think it lasts after you get out. And you had…everything I wanted, so I fucking thought. I thought if I held you, I could hold that. More shit. Parents who bought you everything and loved you. Coddling you with a big house and ballet classes and a damn hot tub. A maid and fancy parties…and perfect grades. Damn it. And…”

  “Go on,” she coaxed.

  “It’s just so fucked. Because they just needed to keep you distracted while they prodded and left. Maybe it isn’t worse than what I had but, fuck, it wasn’t really better. Was it? You and I were both fucked up and we found each other and that shit was not a mistake. And I threw it away. ...And maybe because of what happened when I was fifteen. Guys congratulated me for hot senior pussy, not even believing that she ra-…That she did what she did. I was supposed to want it. And when I see girls remotely in her circle, I want to feel in control again and that’s sick. It’s fucking sick, Camille. I wanted to chase you because I thought you were perfect queen material and I had some shit to prove. Guys like me eat that up and spit it out…” Billy grew so very quiet. So genuine. “And I don’t want that for you and I.”

  “You no longer want to consume me?”

  “No, I think I still do. That’s just it. But, I want you to ask me to do it.” He shuddered. Camille felt that hit deep.

  “Hey, you were right too. I loved being chased by the bad boy. I ignored red flags because of it. I love being wanted because I never felt…” She stopped when he met her eyes again. “Whatever this is now, I value it. Chasing routines aside. Bullshit aside. I’ll let you consume me…only when I feel I can do it back. No, this was not a mistake. I know that now too.”

  "That night we went to Ohio, you wanted me and I came so close to fucking you and being done with it." Billy admitted.

  "Why didn't you?" She would make him say it. "You said I wanted you because I hated myself and that was true. But, I'm sure you fucked your share who hated themselves. I'm sure you fuck when you hate yourself too."

  "Seeing you in pain was somehow easier to stomach than leaving you behind." Billy's words came out and managed to be tender and harsh. That hint of menacing lingered. Delicate fingers touched his jaw, turning his head so he'd look at her face.

  "I never did thank you," Camille's brow furrowed, "for saving my life." Billy never sought it. It was peculiar, how she found every moment she could to offer these tiny compassionate touches. Billy was new to being touched in a way of comfort. It flooded him with the terrifying reality that he was here. She took every single opportunity to remind him that he was fucking here. Even if it made him feel wounded. Camille didn't forgive him. Not just yet. Wanting him was another matter. She didn't lose sleep over him making it all better again. Problem was on him at the end of the day. He fucked up, the blame was all his. She'd made her point. They had a connection regardless and she wasn't letting that go just yet either. Trauma had a way of bringing lost souls to the threshold. Years of helping his abused mother branded a special talent for nurturing wounded girls that was not yet lost on him. Her fingertips hadn't left his jaw, inching up over skin. Touch with Billy Hargrove often meant getting fresh stitches plucked open. For Camille Harper, he'd risk it.

  I'm here, he thought again, chills rushed over skin.

  "Thank you, Billy." She ghosted a smirk. "For saving my life and, frankly, screaming me back into existence. It made me start fighting again. It was exactly what I needed. You gave me exactly what I needed when the time came."

  “You did trick me into being your friend,” he chuckled so she did too. Billy realized in that moment that she'd already returned the favor. Harsh and tender as her own words came after that horrid night. Tension drained again. Her hand dropped from his face toward his knee. Stayed there.

  “It’s silly. How we looked at each other as unobtainable.” Camille confessed after another beat. “This goes so far beyond that. We almost missed it.”

  “We’re idiot kids still.”

  “Yes, we are.” She came to her feet. “Come on, it’s late. Fake take me home.” Billy looked at her other hand still wrapped in his. Eyes lifted to her smile. He felt a great shudder within his chest. That night, Billy dreamed of a California beach. Those waves washing everything awful away. Wind in Camille’s hair while she turned to smile at him. It felt right to have her here. They were happy. He tried to build a home. Something obtainable.

  Just for a little while.  

[convivialcamera]

On Deadline: Get Reaction

Previously

Dougal and Jamie loomed before me on an unusually slow Wednesday morning, newspapers and notebooks in hand.

“Did you see this?” Dougal demanded, plonking yesterday’s local section down on my desk. A brief was circled in blue ballpoint: Leoch inmate found hanged in cell. I hadn’t seen it, but it was never a good idea to admit I wasn’t reading the paper cover-to-cover every day. “We’ve been following this case for a year and the kid just up and…” He made a futile gesture with his hands. “Go with Jamie and talk to MacGregor’s mother.”

I was reading the brief as he spoke. “It’s a suicide. Shouldn’t we be hounding the coroner, not his mom?” Jamie made a face at me that clearly stated, “That’s what I said!”

Dougal had already fended off this argument: “We’re doing both. Obviously we need to be sensitive to the family.” He said this offhandedly, as a matter of form. “But don’t come back until you get reaction and art.” And then he spun on his heel and stalked back to his office.

I was carefully considering my gear. Huge cameras and lenses tended to spook people in sensitive situations, so I reached for two pancake lenses, and then popped them into my smaller bag. I could tell Jamie was watching me as I gathered my things and slipped into my jacket.

“Can you drive?”

“I drove last time,” I said, but reached for my keys. “It’s your turn.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t,” he said quickly, “but I can’t. I only have the one helmet and…”

“Oh! So, the motorcycle in the parking lot is yours?” He nodded, a bit sheepishly, but then smiled so radiently it was like the sun came out. “I’ll take you out on it sometime.”

It was tempting to smile back, but I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed towards the back door (I’d discovered a new shortcut to the parking lot). “You should take Laoghaire,” I said with more edge than I meant, and cringed to myself. 

“Nah, but maybe your husband wants to try it out?”

I deserved that, I was sure.

Alexander MacGregor’s mother lived in Cranesmuir, one of Leoch’s shabbier neighborhoods. Run-down duplexes — some with pit bulls perched on the roof — lined the ill-maintained road, and as I pulled onto High Street I felt a stab of pity for the young man who had felt so much despair. “You should go in alone,” I said, quietly. “Two of us might be intimidating.”

Jamie thought about this a moment. “No, I think I need you in there. You’re way less intimidating than me.” He was a towering giant made of lean muscle, and if his mop of red curls was charming, the sharp bones of his face and slant of his eyes were those of a fierce ancient warrior. “Just hide your camera until she’s accustomed to us. And maybe do the introductions?”

Alice MacGregor was a slip of a woman, with thin brown hair and deep-sunk, grief-filled eyes. She answered the door after my soft knock, and eyed us with suspicion from behind the lock chain. “Who are you?”

I took a deep breath, steading myself. “I’m Claire, and this is Jamie. We’re with the Leoch Times and we’d like to speak with you about your son, Alexander.”

The woman’s whole body tensed, as if drawing herself up to do battle. “You people! He just died!” She inhaled, preparing for an onslaught. Alice’s grief and rage radiated so potently that it made me want to weep alongside her.

I looked her straight in the eye. “Please, we just want to know about Alex from the people who loved him.” Alice examined me speculatively, and read the truth on my face. She deflated, like a balloon pricked by a needle, and opened the door wide. Jamie patted my shoulder in approval and followed her inside the small, dark living room. She sat in a chair, and Jamie on the end of a worn couch. I sat gingerly on the other end, my bag at my feet.

Jamie, with a look of tender concern, explained the preliminaries: he was a reporter, and anything she said could end up in the newspaper. If she wanted to go off-the-record for any information they needed to agree beforehand. It was a fine bit of interview prep, and I warmed to how kindly he spoke with her. He had nice feelings.

“Tell me what your son was like in school,” Jamie began.

Alice’s face lit up in memory, and then almost crumbled. “He was funny, his teachers loved him. Not so good as some kids, you know, but good. For here.” It was obvious she meant Cranesmuir, which had a reputation for poor schools and even poorer students. “He was on the track team. He loved to run.”

“What did he do after high school?”

“He tried a few classes at Leoch Community, but it was tough. We couldn’t scrape together the money, and he had to work. The jobs weren’t enough, but he always helped me out when he could. Helped me keep this place.”

And on it went. Alex was smart, and had kept trying to get back into college, or get better jobs and work his way up, but nothing panned out. Sometimes it was a racist boss, or a car that just couldn’t get him to work on time. And so, like so many young men from the neighborhood, he floundered, and then…

“I couldn’t believe it when he was arrested,” Alice said emphatically. “Alex, my Alexander, had never been in trouble.”

At this, Jamie’s face revealed a small bit of skepticism. “Never?”

“Oh, it was kid’s stuff.” Alice waved her hand, dismissing. “He spray painted a brick wall and got caught when he was 16. He got community service, and I made him go; he did all of it. And I made him swear that he’d never do anything like it again. Alex didn’t lie.” She was on the verge of tears again.

“Did you visit him in jail?”

Alice’s face darkened. “That place is a dungeon. Everyone knows the police don’t treat people correctly.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. But he’d be roughed up. Bruises, cuts. One time I saw a circular burn on his upper arm.”

“You don’t think it was the other prisoners?”

“No.” She looked at him, hard in the eye. “Can I tell you something without it going in the paper?”

“Off the record?” Jamie asked. She nodded. “OK.”

“Captain Jack Randall. From the fort.”

“What about him?”

“He visited Alex in prison.”

“And?”

“I think he was beating up my boy.”

I watched Jamie’s brain whirl through a slew of possibilities, but then he closed off the line of questioning. “Can we go back on the record now?”

At the end, I pulled out my camera. “Alice, do you have any photos of Alex? I’d like to take your picture with one.” I knew it was a little cliché, but I also knew I could get some lovely morning light out of the lone front window. Alice produced an old school photo of her son, posed in front of the cloudy gray backdrop that was so common to picture day, and framed in a cheap black plastic frame. Alex had been gawky, but smiled with an extraordinary kindness that belied his end.

I pulled out my 50-millimeter lens and opened the aperture wide while speeding up my shutter in the hopes of capturing the ephemeral rays of light speckled with dust in my frame. I pulled the cheap armchair from the corner next to the window, so when I sat Alice down the light illuminated the side of her face, as well as the portrait of her son she held cradled in her arms.

Jamie watched me intently as I drove us away; I could almost feel his gaze cutting into me while he sat in the passenger seat. I kept my eyes resolutely on the road, silently willing my cheeks to stop blazing.

Finally, frustrated by my failure, I snapped: “What?”

“How is your husband not your husband?” Jamie asked.

“How are you ‘not exactly’ on the board?” I shot back, pulling one of my hands off the wheel to make sarcastic air quotes.

He chuckled. “Oh. I just observe at board meetings. I can’t talk. I can’t vote. I can just listen. It’s part of the agreement my uncles made with my dad when my mom died — she was their sister, you know?”

“Part of the family business?”

“Yep, Dougal’s girls and Colum’s son are all too young, and my sister isn’t interested at all, so I’m the one they’re training up to take over when the time comes.”

“Ah.” I said, noncommittally. Jamie fell silent, clearly waiting for me answer his own question.

I drew in a deep breath, trying to find the courage to talk about it. “I left him months ago, after an assignment went south.”

“You’re not divorced?”

“We’re not anything. It’s been over a long time.” Jamie huffed a bit at this, in disbelief. “The rest is just, you know, legalities,” I said defensively.

“Legalities?” He sounded incredulous.

“It’s all lawyers and stuff, OK? I left Frank after Libya, haven’t talked to him since, and now I’m here, and that’s that.”

“Sounds like you owe him an explanation.”

“Well, it also sounds like the future owner of the newspaper shouldn’t be making out with interns in bars, but what would I know?”

That shut him up.

The story ran on the local front, C1, with my portrait of Alice MacGregor and her grief-stricken eyes surrounded by shining rays of light at three-and-a-half columns. Jamie stood next to me at the morning meeting, the day’s section fronts tacked up on the wall, and nudged my shoulder.

“Alice might have been right about the captain,” he said softly to me, as we waited for everyone to gather.

“Oh?”

“Got a hold of the visitor logs. One Jonathan Randall visited MacGregor about ten or so times while he was in jail. And here’s the kicker: Randall’s the one Alex stole from.”

“What?” I said, louder than I intended. A few people turned to look at me strangely. Jamie smiled politely, and faces turned away.

“Right? There’s more to this story than what we’ve got.”

[sunlitroom]

Gotham – s4e18 – That’s Entertainment!

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Jerome invaded a beautiful 1960s office building to find his estranged brother, Xander Wilde.   Then he did find him, and told him he was going to drive him mad.  In an outrageously dull and dumb storyline, Barbara is apparently the demon’s head. Bruce didn’t kill Jerome, and now he feels bad about it.  Jerome has a plan to turn the city into a madhouse.

As always, long post will be long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

The interim mayor is holding a meeting in front of a large painting (did anyone catch what it was?).  A representative is there from the Moral Authority Society, as well as Gotham’s ‘Mother of the Year’, and the Police Commissioner.

The Moral Authority woman is making outraged noises about criminals taking office and gunfights in the streets.  Those are both definitely Bad Things, but anyone from anything called the Moral Authority Society is so instantly intolerable that criminals in office and gunfights look just fine and dandy in comparison.

The interim mayor tells Moral Authority woman, Mrs Haverstock, that they have been working to improve the way the city conducts itself.  

The lights go out. The mayor sends a bodyguard to see what’s going on.  The people round the table shiver suddenly, and wonder if a window has blown open.  

They all stand about anxiously – and then stare as Victor strides in, giving them a dry good evening.

They ask what’s going on, but Jervis now appears and tells them there’s no time for questions – they’re needed elsewhere.

Outside, Jervis and Victor usher into the mayor into a van containing a smirking Jerome, Firefly, and a very pretty-looking Oswald.  This is the problem with Gotham - the villains are all absurdly hot.  Law and order just isn’t as enticing.

The mayor instantly demonstrates how completely full of bullshit he was earlier by blurting out that he has access to the police pension fund.  Jerome shrugs at this, unimpressed.  The mayor turns to Bridget – saying her knows her.  He can offer her money and a new home.  

Bridget smiles at him, and says that it was people like him who got her locked up in Strange's lab – the result of which being there is no Bridget anymore.

Getting desperate, he turns to Jervis and offers him a pardon.  Even Jervis looks baffled by that one.  I don’t like Jervis’ new coat.  It’s not half as nice as his old overcoat.  The collar sits all funny, and I don’t like the cape.

Jervis makes some noise about how they’re visionaries.

Finally, he looks to Oswald

Oswald - can't you do something?

Oswald looks back at him. He plainly wants to do something, but can't be seen to be a dissenting voice.

Absolutely not.  I am with Mr Valeska 100 percent of the way.

The mayor says cops looking are looking for him and there’ll be no mercy, just bullets.

Jerome tells him he’s so serious – and that’s why his approval ratings are so low. He needs to smile more.  He puts an arm round Oswald’s shoulders, and Oswald offers a fake smile in agreement.  

Jerome goes on to comment that it’s time to give the city the boost it needs. Jonathan sprays the mother of the year with some of the purple gas. As her vision blurs, and she starts to convulse, we hear Jerome say

Come on, Gotham what do you have to lose?  Except your sanity.

From the back of the van, Oswald watches – wide-eyed and pale.  He’s terrified.

 Bruce and Alfred in the garage at Wayne Manor.  Bruce asks why they’re there – and Alfred drops a small box into his hands, and wishes him happy birthday.  Bruce smiles

You remembered

You think, Bruce?

Alfred says of course did. He bloody loves Bruce’s birthdays. His seventh was a blinder.  Bruce got a little red truck which he took outside and played with alone.  When Alfred found him, he was gathering stones in order to build a secret place for it.

Bruce smiles – touched that he remembers - and opens the box.  It's a car key. He presses the button, and a very fancy car starts up.  Even Bruce, who must be used to fancy cars, is impressed.

Alfred – I don't know what to say

Alfred tells him all the fancy specs.   5 litre, 460 horsepower.  Matte black. Bulletproof. Ye gods -  the insurance will be astronomical.

Bruce hugs him. Alfred is also moved.

Aw, mate

GCPD- where Jim is telling Harvey about the kidnap - everyone is out searching. Harvey says he was going to say that he had won 100 bucks from a scratch-off lotto ticket and was going to suggest they go blow it at the track and the pub. I’m not sure whether Harvey’s just being flippant here but – if not – some of this might help explain why he was having money problems earlier in the season.

Jim’s phone rings.

We need to talk

Oswald

I’ll be out back - come alone

Jim hurries downstairs to the evidence room, where there is a persistent knocking at the door.

This is a first

Apparently, Jim and Oswald haven’t yet used the evidence room for one of their exciting clandestine meetings.  That’s the only part of this that I’m buying as ‘a first’, Jim.

Oswald is agitated, and asks Jim if he’s doing anything about Jerome.  Jim asks if he knows where he is.  Oswald tells him that going in all guns blazing would not help.  He also tells him that everyone is under his thumb – they’re all part of his dark, terrible plan.

Jim asks what the plan is. Oswald tells him about the gas Jonathan’s made.  Jim asks if it’s like the fear toxin.  Oswald says this is much worse.  It’s not neutralised by water or concentrating really hard, for a start. He saw it turn someone into a maniacal cackling violent animal.

Jim demands more information.  Really, Jim – I think this is more than you had before, so let’s be grateful.  

Oswald protests.  He says Jerome doesn't share his full plans- he’s not stupid. They’re all assigned separate tasks.  Jim snarls – asking why he’s come if he won’t help him.  Jim, he is.  You know now that all the villains are likely to carrying out individual missions at different parts of the city; that – if caught – it’s a waste of time to interrogate them about Jerome’s master plan; that a poison gas is involved, so there’s likely to be a need for Jerome to find a way to circulate it widely; and that this gas is essentially a way of weaponizing the public – so you need huge containment measures in place.  C’mon now.  Lazy writing. You can have him desperately ask Oswald for more information– but not act like he’s not given him anything, because you just make him look either stupid, assy, or like he’s not been listening.

Anyway – before I ranted, Jim had asked Oswald why’d he’d come at all. Oswald is exasperated, and tells Jim that Jerome scares the living hell out of him.  Oh, Oswald. That response to the fear serum wasn’t a one-off, apparently.

Jim gives him a considering look.  Oswald says he thought Jerome might get them power and money – a return to the good old days.

I really love the notion that Oswald is nostalgic and longs for tradition - because it’s so tricksy, and not quite how things were.  I can see it on one hand – because he’s not really like the rest of the villains.  His MO and needs are much more standard, and less obviously outre.  On the other hand, Oswald is the upstart outsider who completely subverted the old order and caused chaos so he could take the crown.  The likes of Sofia and Carmine just curled their lip at him, and saw him as a freak.  So he’s in this odd situation of not wanting to be part of the new wave, but being rejected by the old order.

Jim, already turned on by this illicit meeting at work, decides that he wants to provoke Oswald, gives him one of his looks that wander well below the neck, and suggests that maybe he just doesn’t want the competition

Oswald scoffs at this. He says Jerome is simply chaos – an anarchist, whereas he is an honest criminal.

OK – at this point Jim makes a series of weird faces which, frankly, baffled me. Mouth ulcer?  Popcorn stuck in teeth?  I have no idea what these were.  

Jim asks where the gas could be.  Exasperated, Oswald reiterates that Jerome only tells what he has to – and that all Oswald knows is he has to be stopped.

Jim and Oswald being Jim and Oswald, they’re standing very close.  Jim raises his eyebrows at Oswald’s comment and looks down at him.  

Harvey yells downstairs for Jim, at which interruption Jim’s lips thin in a momentary expression of annoyance (it’s in the gifs, I promise it’s not shipper glasses), and he and Oswald slide into a hilariously smooth and practised quick escape.  Once Oswald is safely out the door, Jim walks back towards the stairs to meet Harvey – who tells him that Jerome has been spotted at Paisley Square.

 At Paisley Square, we see a very small music festival in progress.  The main act is being interrupted by Jerome, who has invaded the stage and his shaking his ass at the crowd.  The singer tells him to get lost, and is bludgeoned with the mic stand for his troubles.  We also see that Firefly is on stage.

Ladies and gentlemen.  We are the Arkham Asylum lunatics – and we are here to blow some minds.

He tells them they’ll love this next one, and brings his hostages onto the stage: the mayor, commissioner, bishop and…. this lady, whoever she is.

He’s waiting for two more guests, though, so – in the meantime, he’ll explain the rules. Basically, they have dynamite strapped to their necks, and he has the trigger – so if he doesn’t get what he wants, headless people.  Only one man get him what he wants

Gordon!  Calling Captain James Gordon!

Oh tremendous – it’s the League of Shadows, which saves me a lot of typing. Some guys is mad at Tabitha’s arrogance and disrespect for throwing his brother out of the club.  Tabitha says he a rude ass who won’t pay his tab.  The faux girl-power stuff with the Sirens storyline is annoying, because Tabitha is arrogant, and disrespectful, and downright rude – we saw that when she threw Ivy out for no good reason.  But because this story is mired in its own weird powerful women rhetoric, she can’t just be called out on it.  Her behaviour has to be seen to be justified.

Barbara struts in and wants an apology.  The man demands blood.  Barbara summons her army, and the men are all taken out.  They turn to Barbara afterwards and ask her about continuing Ra’s’ legacy, as opposed to petty shit like this.   She apparently has more to learn.  Barbara makes a destiny face. Tabitha channels the audience, for once, and rolls her eyes.

My wrists are really suffering today – so this is summarised.  Jonathan and Victor invade Wayne Enterprises and demand that they make a huge amount of poison madness gas.

Back to the music festival. Jerome is dancing to the Batman theme. My love for 60s Batman knows no bounds, so this makes me happy

As I live and breathe, Jim Gordon is in the house.

Jim doesn’t want to talk until he knows the hostages are OK – but Jerome says he is the one making demands. Jim says this is an act of terror, which seems to offend Jerome.  Jim moves a little closer, but Bridget sprays flames into the crowd.

(An aside.  So – are the people in the crowd also the kind of people that allowed Bridget to be experimented on by Hugo?  Ivy’s resentment towards the entire city is more understandable.  She was repeatedly let down on a personal and impersonal level.  She wants revenge on everybody – which is exacerbated by her immaturity.  Even so, there’s a transformative element to what she wants to do – making them something better, in her eyes.

Bridget, on the other hand, is seemingly just happy to roast civilians alive if needs be.  So – what’s stopped her just going on a killing spree before now? Does she need direction?)

Jerome lets Jim know that this is a dead man's trigger – if it falls out of his hand, then the collars still detonate.  He comments again on the two empty chairs.  Jim asks who they’re for.

You’re a detective.  Do some detecting

Jim guesses Jeremiah – but can’t think of the second.  Jerome asks about the other irksome do-gooder who's spoiled his fun – and answers for Jim: Bruce Wayne.

Jim says to take him instead, but Jerome doesn't want Jim.  He wants his brother and the version of his brother he’d liked to have had, who – when he had the chance -  didn’t abandon him to his violent uncle.

Jim tries to clear the crowd – but Jerome gets angry.  Anger manifests, in this case, as making the commissioner’s head explode.  He demands Jeremiah and Bruce again.

 At Wayne Manor, Alfred sings happy birthday to Bruce as he presents him with a cake.  Selina appears behind Bruce’s shoulder and blows out the candles – telling him his security sucks.  A slightly put-out Alfred greets her with Miss Kyle, before putting out plates and leaving.

(An aside – Selina is virtually Bruce’s only friend – of his own age, anyway.  She got shoved out a window on her way to let Alfred know he had been kidnapped.  She nearly died.  He… didn’t think to invite her?  Stay classy, Alfred.)

Bruce thanks her for visiting on his birthday – But Selina denies knowing that’s what today is.  He says it’s good to see her.  She says that she knew his bratty stage was just an act, but Bruce says she’s more sure than he is.

Alfred announces visitors – Jim and Lucius letting them know about the Jerome situation.  Lucius says he’s designed some radio wave jamming technology that would keep Bruce safe long enough for GCPD to ambush, but Alfred still isn’t happy, and nor is Selina, who is now perched on the table and still picking at the cake.

In the meantime, Jerome makes the bishop’s head explode.

Jim appeals to Bruce’s good nature by saying they can prevent deaths

Bruce agrees and asks what they’re waiting for – people need their help.

Ra’s house.  There’s a secret door with no key – but, luckily, Barbara can open it with her magic hand.  Just take a moment to ponder exactly how stupid the thing I just typed sounds.

She enters a room full of random pieces of art and culture.  Walking reverently through, she catches sight of a very bad painting, and stops short.

Good lord – wtf is that? From what one of the assassin sisters said, it should be– what, 17th century?  It doesn’t look it, though.

Barbara is all awe-struck – saying that she’s always knows she was meant for more.  Sure, Barbara.  Whatever.

I’m home

Back with Jerome and co, we see snipers on the roof – who are being coordinated by Harvey.  

Back to Jim – he’s trying to convince Jeremiah, who is pouring himself a stiff drink, and telling Jim he’s mad to consider this plan at all.  Jim gets nowhere trying to persuade him.

Bruce introduces himself with a handshake.  Jim and Lucius watch him – guessing he might have better luck than them.

Bruce says he wishes the circumstances were better, and asks what Jeremiah is working on – listening with genuine interest.  He says that Jeremiah has a brilliant mind, and hopes that he can carry on after his brother is gone free from fear.

Jeremiah watches him as he speaks.  He doesn’t seems suspicious, or dismissive – just intent.

Bruce says he trusts Jim and Lucius. And even if things don’t go to plan – they will show the city that standing up to terror is the only way to take its power away.

Jeremiah considers this

Well said

Jim’s phone rings. It’s Harvey – letting him know about the lab break-in.  Jim tells him what ‘Penguin’ said about the gas.  Yeah yeah, Jim.  We all know you use that name for show.

They all leave to head to Paisley Square

There’s a very unnecessary scene where Harvey gets to the lab and learns that they made loads of gas which was then taken away again.

 Jerome is singing on the stage when Jim and co. arrive.  Jerome invites them to take their seats.  Bruce strides up to the stage, face defiant.  A nervous Jeremiah follows.  Lucius says the device has been activated.  Lucius is wearing a purple shirt and paisley tie, which is a fairly consistent style choice for him.

When they get to the stage, Harvey tells the snipers to fire – but the snipers are shot by Arkham patients. Jerome guessed they’d do this – and set his own men up in position last night.  They’ve been watching the police all day.  In short, they’re fucked.

 A genuinely beautiful shot of a glass aircraft hangar – with clear blue skies outside – with the remainder of the villains walking through it.

Jonathan gasses one of the pilots there.  Oswald looks nervy.  Jervis asks the remaining pilot if it can be piloted alone and hypnotises him.

Oswald’s brain is whirring, and he exclaims aloud when he realises the plan – draw a crowd to the square to drop the gas and infect as many as possible.  He can’t contain his genuine feelings about it anymore, and says it’s madness.

Jonathan said he thought he'd appreciate the beauty of it – but that Jerome had already anticipated his betrayal.

You went to Gordon

Ooops.  They all ship it.

He adds that Oswald is a Judas – before hitting him on the head.  Jervis tells two random goons to tie him up and put him on the blimp - Jerome wants him to have a bird’s eye view

God – this storyline again.  Ra’s cellar of random objet d’art.  Tabitha says he was a cult leader with brainwashed assassins.  Barbara’s gone all conspiracy theorist – poring over one text which outlines how Ra’s has influenced all world history.  That’s one document, Barbara.  This is not how we do historical analysis.  

Now she’s going on about spells.  Tabitha says that Barbara would have sold all this once upon a time, and asks her what about how she begged to be part of her and Selina’s team.

Barbara points to the portrait and says that portrait shows her and Ra’s 400 years ago, and that this is her.  She’s found her true purpose.

Barbara tells her minions to escort Miss Galavan to the street – and, plumbing hitherto unknown depths of unlikeableness, tell her that she’ll have her loyal servants teach her manners – she wouldn’t dirty her fingers with the task now.

Back to the festival. Jerome is monologuing.  

Everyone's got their favourites – the one who cleans their room and does their homework.  Mr Perfect – this guy

Jeremiah was adopted by rich folks, while Jerome was dragged up by a depressed alcoholic mother and had to clean up elephant dung.

He faces Jeremiah

But I know something mommy and daddy never knew.  You're as crazy as I am

Jeremiah grimaces and struggles.

It’s in the DNA.  You see, we’ve got the same blood - we are practically identical.  You are a killer.  It's your nature.  Don't try and fight it.

He gives him the knife.

Take your best shot

Jerome stands back. Jeremiah roars and launches at him. Jerome easily disarms him, laughs, and punches him.

Jim and Harvey have a quick phone conversation about the chemicals headed their way.  Jim tells him to evacuate the site, and says he’s going to kill that maniac once and for all.

Back on stage, Jerome is still beating Jeremiah, while telling him he loves him. Suddenly, the tables turn – and GCPD cops are shooting the Arkham patients stationed on the roofs.  Jim, meantime, shoots Jerome.  Bridget aims her flamethrower at him, but Jim manages to get away.  Jerome – on his back on the stage – shuffles away.

As he does, Bruce and Bridget brawl.  Jerome tries to hit the switch – only to realise that it’s not working.  

From the crowd, we hear a voice

Hey – look up at the sky!

The blimp is now overhead.

Oswald wakes up, tied to something on the blimp, and is instantly wide-eyed with terror

Holy crap!

He frees himself and tries to get the pilot’s attention politely – but realises he’s been hypnotised.  The captain goes on to say he’s going to dump the chemicals.  

Oswald, bless him, decides that the way to go is to yell bossily, because that’s what he does

You turn this thing around right now!

The captain turns and aims a gun at him.  Oswald raises his hands and backs off.

Chaos below.  Jerome runs up an alley, and Jim follows.  On a rooftop, Harvey looks up and sees the blimp. He calls Jim and suggests shooting it down – but, as Jim points out, that’s incredibly dumb, because it’s carrying all the chemicals.

 As Jim chases Jerome upstairs, he gets a call from Oswald.  He tells him he was knocked out, and then panics down the phone – telling Jim that he has to help him, the blimp has that horrible poison gas on board, and the pilot has been hypnotised.

Jim says that Oswald is going to help him – and tells him to steer the blimp away.   Oswald splutters.  He can’t steer a blimp – he doesn't even drive his own car.  Thousands could die.  Jim tells him there’s something worse.  Oswald asks what’s worse than that.  Jim tells him he can't run an empire in city full of lunatics.  Again – that writing is weird, because it makes Jim come off as more morally bankrupt than Oswald.  Or maybe it isn’t weird.

(An aside.  Ahhh.  In times of true need – as with the fear serum – Jim is Oswald’s first port of call)

On the rooftop, Jerome on the ledge.  The pilot calls to say he’s in position, but before Jerome can reply, Jim shoots the phone from his hand.  

Jerome says it’s too late anyway – and laughs, calling out bombs away!

Jim shoots him in the gut.   Jerome is momentarily shocked, then laughs, falling backwards.

Meanwhile, on the blimp, the pilot starts to pull the lever.  Oswald lurches forward, yelling no, and struggles.   He overcomes him by smacking him in the face, and takes the wheel, chanting up up up.  As he manages to get it to do what he wants, he laughs nervously

Ok ok ok…river, river – where is the river?

Oh, Oswald.  I do actually properly love you.

Jim looks over ledge at Jerome dangling from a pole.  Jerome comments that it’s quite the dilemma.  Let him die – or pull him up and arrest him.  What’ll it be? He extends a hand and asks Jim if he’s a lawman or a murderer.

Jim thinks for a moment before reaching down towards him – but Jerome withdraws his hand.

Good old Gordon, always playing by the rules - that's why I’ll outlive you and always be loved.  I don’t play by rules.

Jim comments that it’s a long way down.  Jerome responds that he’ll live on because he’s an idea.  A philosophy.  He’ll live on in the shadows of Gotham’s discontent.  

He tells Jim he’ll be seeing him soon and, with an au revoir, lets go of the pole, laughing hysterically as he drops towards the ground.

Jim watches, wide-eyed, genuinely shocked.

On the street below, Jerome’s body – looking oddly unharmed – lies on a crumpled car roof, eyes open – still smiling.  The crowd surge round him, before the police usher them back.

Jim stares.  A tearful Jeremiah hovers close for a moment, and then makes to walk past.  Bruce stops him, and says he meant what he said about work – he wants to fund him with a grant.  Bruce also looks tearful.  Jeremiah walks away, still limping as a result of the beating he took on stage.  Bruce acknowledges Jim before walking away.

Jim's phone rings. It’s Oswald

Um – hello.  I’m still here.  Will someone get me the hell off this thing?

Jim says they’re on it, and asks Harvey how they get a blimp down safely.

Harvey says let him stew. You know, Harvey, any residual shame you feel about being on Oswald’s payroll during the Pax is all on you – so anytime you want to stop being a prick where Oswald is concerned is good.

Jim says they’ll get the standby pilot and he will advise him, adding that he should sit tight.  He takes a moment and adds a well-deserved and just ever-so-slightly fond, with the use of his full name.

And Oswald Cobblepot?   Gotham thanks you.

Oswald stares incredulously at the phone and yells Jim’s name as the blimp drifts off.  Someone is getting a spanking when Oswald lands.  I suspect he’s into it.

Tabitha is thrown out. Barbara’s plan doesn't involve her. Honestly, Tabitha, I don’t like you – but I would leave the vortex of dumb that is that storyline while you have the chance.

One of the sisters tells her to leave the city and never come back.  Tabitha tells her to kiss her ass

Which one of you bitches wants to go first?

Tabitha starts well, but is quickly overpowered and beaten.  From a car a little way down the street, someone watches all this.  It’s a pretty ugly scene, with four or five of them kicking Tabitha’s ribs as she lies on the ground.

The sisters walk away.

Next time, we kill you

They close the gates behind them.

Tabitha is lying in the street.  The man from the car walks towards her and extends his hand

Let me help you

Tabitha takes it.

Who the hell are you guys?

They’ve apparently been watching her and Barbara Kean ‘the imposter’.  Poor sods.  They must be both bored and irritated.

They say that Ra’s is the true master.  Tabitha points out his deadness, but they tell her death is an illusion, and inject her with some very green stuff that looks like Herbert West’s reagent.  She’s dragged away, unconscious.  The street is really pretty.

Back in Jeremiah’s drab home, where he pours himself a large whiskey. Jeremiah fairly knocks it back, doesn’t he?  We saw him drinking the same way earlier, without a wince or a cough. It suggests that he’s maybe used to it.

Looking over at the table, he sees a present.  He walks over and looks.  It looks creepy, even with its little tag claiming it’s from Wayne Enterprises.

Now.  Would you open that?  I wouldn’t.

He opens it.  It’s a toy – a jack-in-the-box that can only be described as ‘menacing’.  And if opening the original parcel wasn’t dumb enough, he actually turns the handle.

Predictably – an evil looking clown springs out and sprays him with gas. Jerome’s voice plays from some recording.  Jeremiah staggers round the room, his face twisting.

Hello brother.  You didn't think get you’d get rid of me so easily.  My days were always numbered – but you can continue on for me.  Be my revenge.  Don't fight it – it’s a special mixture I had Scarecrow mix especially for you, to finally set you free.  It’s time to have some fun.  Burn it down. Burn it all down.

General Observations

A strong episode - excepting the League of Shadows stuff, which I find ludicrous and dull.

A couple of interesting nods to the past in this episode.  

There’s Jim and Oswald, of course.  They never really stray too far away from each other – but the secretive meetings, and Oswald as informant hark back to the good old days of season one, as does them working together.  When push comes to shove, they seek out that dynamic which must - by this point - be almost comforting.

There’s also the moment with Jim and Jerome on the roof – which calls back to the moment at the church, when Barbara attempted suicide by letting go of his hand. There’s a similar rhetoric, too, about being set free through insanity.

Fate or Choice?

There’s quite a lot here to do with free will and determinism, and fatalism.   Was Barbara really fated to always end up here?  Is Jeremiah bound to end up as murderous and insane as Jerome?    

Gotham has played with the idea before.  I’m not really fond of it, to be honest – and found it particularly annoying when creepy Elijah revealed the dark past of Oswald’s relatives.  Of course background is important, but to reduce Oswald’s life to ‘well – of course, he wound up heading that way, because his grandfather was crazy’ completely cheapens his story.  

It also raises the queasy notions like, well, do you even bother trying to rehabilitate those people? Maybe some people are just born bad, and can be written off?  

Jeremiah was an example of that, to an extent.  Even if you go with the idea that he maybe suspected something wasn’t quite right somewhere, in terms of his mental health, it doesn’t seem as though he had acted on it.  He was controlled and secluded, and had found an outlet for his energies in his work.  If he was aware of certain impulses and compulsion, then he apparently hadn’t acted on them.  He made a choice, in so far as he was able (which is, of course, not to say that this is feasible/realistic/appropriate in a wider and more serious discussion of mental illness – I’m talking about it purely as it’s presented within this narrative).

But Jerome’s final actions removed that choice from him, and framed it as ‘setting him free’.  So freedom is giving in?  Jeremiah to his (apparently) familial madness?  Barbara to following a path set out for her? Bridget can remember being Bridget, but she’s given up on her in favour of living out Strange’s vision of her?

Jim

Jim more or less continues on the path set out last episode, of trying to more solidly be a ‘good guy’. He offers himself up in Bruce’s place, and tries to rescue and arrest Jerome.  His interactions with Oswald are occasionally assy (if you watch it with shipper glasses on, Jim seems to enjoy riling Oswald up into a hissy fit) – but his thanks at the end are sincere, I think.  He could have said something mean-spirited – but acknowledges instead that Oswald saved the city, and ‘Oswald Cobblepots’ him in the same way that Oswald likes to ‘Jim Gordon’ him.

His interactions with Harvey seemed to be business as normal – Harvey’s slid back to his comedic, mostly ineffectual, ways.  This return to old days makes me wonder if the ‘betrayal’ we read about elsewhere might come from this quarter, after we’ve been lulled into a false sense of security.

His bond with Bruce in terms of ‘helping people’ was reaffirmed here, and deliberately made distinct from Bruce’s ties with Alfred.

Oswald

I wrote earlier that Oswald occupies an odd bridge between the old and the new.  The old order didn’t want him, but he can’t find a common ground with the new order: their motivations baffle him.  When pushed, he prefers order – and if that order happens to be lawful, he’ll take it, temporarily, anyway.

Here – Oswald falls back on what’s instinctive to him which, despite everything, is to seek out Jim. There’s a double aspect to how he goes to Jim here.  It makes logical sense, because Jim wants to stop Jerome too, but there’s also an emotional element to it: he’s scared, and he trusts Jim to help him.  

Bruce and Jeremiah

I think Bruce and Jeremiah’s relationship - which we know will become hugely important - was really well set up.  Although Jerome would frequently puncture the moment with humour, he had poignant moments throughout.  Part of him did love his brother.  In many ways, they are alike.  His brother did abandon him.  His childhood was terrible.  He willingly lets himself fall at the end.

By the end of this episode – before the gas – we see Jeremiah also deeply unhappy.  His home looks dark and enclosed.  He’s drinking heavily.  He’s traumatised by encountering his brother again.  He’s tearful when he sees his body.  The one glimmer of light in his life was Bruce’s offer of work, in much the same way that Bruce’s refusal to leave Jerome to be beaten was the lone example of decent behaviour he’d seen in a long time.  And now that’s all ruined, and the relationship - which could have been good for them both - poisoned from the outset.

I’m not commenting on Barbara’s storyline.  It’s silly.

Things that remain open. Sofia is still in a coma – what happens when she comes round?  Does Victor know yet that Oswald didn’t kill Carmine?  Will Martin put his stabbing skills to use?

Thoughts?

[edgy-fluffball]

What We Deserve

Title credit to @tigerthealien

Summary: Initially, Steve had not thought he would have to think about philosophical questions whilst baking for the party, especially not when Max approaches him. Something about her question keeps Steve on his toes.

Words: 4,542

‘Steve?‘

‘In a second, I will be with you in just about a moment – shit, this is hard! What is it about?’

‘Uhm, are you sure you want me to talk with you whilst your head is in the oven?’

‘On second thought, you are right,’ Steve scrambled to his feet and straightened his shirt, ’I’m on my feet and listening. What’s on your mind?’

Max stared at the kitchen floor, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, head hung low. She seemed concerned about something, the months since Halloween had given him enough time to get to know each of the kids and their little quirks and traits. Max, that he had learned, never contained her thoughts, but didn’t come to him for advice or help.

‘I have a question,’ Max looked back into the hallway, back to where the boys sat in front of the TV.

‘And you can’t ask them? They know more than me about most stuff anyway,’ Steve wiped his hands down his pants.

‘This I can’t talk about. At least not with the boys. You can maybe help me, you are a bit older and know stuff,’ she closed the kitchen door behind her, ‘Also – you might be experienced.’

‘Experienced? What exactly are we talking about?’ Steve crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat cautiously, ‘Because all of that sounds weird.’

‘No, not weird, just…I have this question and I don’t think I can ask the boys because they are – not good with that stuff,’ Max exhaled and looked up at Steve.

‘Well then, spit it out.’

She still seemed to think about the way to say whatever she wanted to say, she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, and rolled her shoulders. Steve leaned forward slightly, in expectation of her question.

‘Do all people get exactly what they deserve? I mean, is there a way to know that a person deserves it when they get treated…badly?’

Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything in response to the anxious expression on Max’s face. Halfway into actually forming words, he frowned and stopped. There was nothing he could think of that would make sense as an answer to it. Lacking the answer Max was waiting for with big eyes looking at him, Steve pushed himself on the countertop, next to the stove, and pointed next to himself.

‘Have a seat,’ he patted the surface.

‘On the countertop? Won’t Mrs. Henderson mind that?’

‘Max – I just cleaned the oven after the cookie debacle you and the boys hosted here. I can wipe down the countertop after we sat there, if you want me to. Oh, by the way, do you want a cookie, I got them out of the oven a few minutes ago…before I cleaned it, of course.’

Steve held out the bowl with the chocolate chip cookies they had produced. Max took one and stuffed it in her mouth. She still looked at Steve, big eyes searching in his for the answer to her question.

‘Max…any reason why you ask that?’

‘I’m just curious, you know? It’s an abstract question I was just thinking about, and the boys get funny when I think about stuff like that,’ Max sneaked her hand past Steve to grab another cookie.

‘Doesn’t sound like them, they are all philosophical usually. Dustin loves discussing this deep shit,’ Steve scratched his head and stared at his stocking-footed feet, ‘in fact, he’s obsessed with it.’

‘Yes, but I came to you because you are older than us. I thought you might just know the answer. Plus, you are some kind of authority to us by now.’

‘Authority?’ Steve could not prevent a snort, ‘You guys boss me around whenever you get the chance.’

Max rolled her eyes at him.

‘But if you really want an answer from me, I can try and give you one. Because…in the end it’s easy to answer.’

‘Really?’ Max stopped chewing her cookie to look up at him, frowning at him doubtfully, ‘Just a moment you called it deep shit.’

‘Yah, turns out I was wrong. Is that so surprising? – Don’t answer that, please,’ Steve sighed, ‘Now, for the answer: No.’

‘What?’

‘No, people don’t always get what they deserve and no, there’s no way to know if they get what they deserve. It’s one of these things, you know? I know it is incredibly unfair but people are mean to each other without reason. You can be the nicest person on earth – or try to be, at least – and someone will come along and be horrible to you because they had a bad day or lost their job or had problems at home, and then they project all their problems onto you and try to make you feel bad as much as they do. It’s shitty and a mean thing to do… Listen, Max, I might not be the best person to speak about that with you…’

‘No, you’re helping, actually,’ Max smiled weakly, ‘So, you would say that…jerks might not be jerks at heart and people that get treated poorly…are sometimes nice people who just drew the short end of the stick?’

Steve nodded slowly, ‘I guess so…’

Max fidgeted next to him. Her hand hovered over her leg, tapping out a rhythm on her jeans; her face was scrunched up in a frown, and her feet kicked back against the cabinet door under the countertop. Steve could see there was more to it, but didn’t dare asking. Max worried her lower lip with her teeth and stared back down to the ground again.

‘So, which group does Billy belong to?’

Steve choked on the cookie he had been nibbling at.

‘Uhm, Billy?’

‘Yes, my stupid big step-brother, you remember?’

‘Yah, uhm – hard to forget that guy…,’ Steve cleared his throat, ‘is he the reason you asked me about… deserving what you get?’

Max flinched, ‘Can I have another cookie?’

Steve held out the bowl for her to take, ‘Sooo, it was? What’s up with you, Max, you can tell me! There is something on your mind and it worries you. Can I help you with anything?’

Max hopped down from the counter, taking the cookie bowl with her, ‘I’ll get these to the boys.’

‘Hey, I just offered to listen to –‘

‘Yah, I got that. And thank you, Steve. Really, thank you. You helped a lot,’ Max grinned at Steve, opened the kitchen door and left him sitting on the counter.

‘Oh this is just great,’ Steve continued to mutter under his breath whilst cleaning the rest of the kitchen.

He took the remaining party home after Jonathan had dropped by to pick up Will. The back seat was cramped, since Dustin insisted on joining everyone else in the backseat to keep them entertained. First up was Mike, then Lucas. After the boys had disappeared in their houses, the inside of Steve’s BMW felt even more restrictive.

It wasn’t often that Steve took Max home as well, mostly when Billy was occupied, meaning he had a date in the evening. Even then, Steve had to personally call the Hargrove household to ask either Susan or Neil Hargrove if he could drive Max home. Billy had cornered him once at school, instructing him about how to go about picking up and dropping off his step-sister in the most intense, Billy-like way.

Max and Dustin whispered in the backseat whilst Steve drove through Hawkins. He tried to focus on the street but Max’s words still stuck to his thoughts.

‘Hey, Max,’ he pulled up in front of the Hargrove home, ‘you have two minutes until the curfew.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Max looked out of the window, ‘thank you for today. Thanks for the ride.’

‘Sure, Max. Hey – remember that I am here if you want to talk about…anything.’

Max got out of the car, waved back at them and made her way up to the house where the door was opened for her. Steve caught a glimpse at Billy standing in the yellow light pouring out from the inside. He had his shoulders pulled almost up to his chin, fists pushed into his pockets. Max disappeared in the hallway, the door closed behind her and Dustin climbed to the front of the car.

‘Can we…go now?’

‘Hm? Yay, sure, going now.’ Steve started the car and drove off.

Dustin stared at him all the way back to his house. He didn’t move his head even a centimetre until the car stopped again. Steve motioned for him to get out but Dustin still looked at him.

‘What was that about Max just now?’

‘Nothing. Look, your mother is back home, see you tomorrow,’ Steve motioned towards the house, ‘Come on, man, I want to go home as well. Please do tell your mother that I cleaned the oven after you left a battle field!’

‘She’s just gonna insist on paying you,’ Dustin slammed the car door shut and ran off, skipping over the lawn towards the house.

Steve drove home, parked and went upstairs, he flopped down onto the bed, pulled his shirt over his head and buried himself under the pillows and blankets. At some point he ended up staring at his nightstand and the alarm clock in it. Its illuminated display painted a pattern on his bed that he could follow with his eyes. He was still thinking about Max and her question. She had looked at him as if she needed the answer, urgently. And in hindsight, he wasn’t even sure if his answer had been all that helpful.

Did people get what they deserved? He struggled under the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position on the mattress. Something had been off about Max’s question, especially with the follow up question concerning Billy.

Steve fell asleep with his brows furrowed, one leg stretched out under the covers, the other one dangling over the edge. He had one pillow pulled over his head, another one pushed under his back to relieve the slight saddle back his father had diagnosed him with, insisting on the pillow ever since.

It was in front of the mirror, whilst he did his hair, that a thought crossed his mind. The hairspray can tumbled to the ground, Steve dove to catch it and hit his head on the sink. Rubbing his temple and cursing like a sailor he leaned against the wall and looked at his reflection. A bump formed on his forehead, skin was bruising and a throbbing pain shot through his head – all in the time until he pulled into the school parking lot and got out of the car.

There were a few students around but Steve just ducked his head and entered the building. He got to his locker before someone noticed the blue goose egg on his forehead. Unfortunately for him, it was Billy Hargrove who slammed his locker door shut and leered at him.

‘Now look at you, Harrington – who’s beaten you up?’

‘Get lost, Hargrove,’ Steve stuffed his books into his bag and turned away, not in the mood to look at Billy and be reminded of both Max’s question and the way the boy had looked the night before..

‘No seriously, what happened? Who hurt you? Which asshole did that to you? Do you need anything, that doesn’t look like you cooled it –‘

‘Hargrove – what on earth are you going on about?’ He walked down the hallway, contemplating actively looking for Nancy and Jonathan to throw Billy off.

‘Come on, dude, someone decked you and I wanna know who, so I can –‘

‘– can do what, Billy, congratulate him?’ Steve stopped and turned around to face Billy, ‘I bet you would have the time of your life!’

‘Harrington, you are one dramatic dude. I was about to offer to deck him too,’ Billy still grinned at him.

Steve couldn’t fight off the snarl in his voice, ‘Oh don’t hold yourself back, my bathroom sink will gladly fight you.’

He turned back around and left Billy behind. Not hearing a single word from him left him with a satisfied feeling in his stomach that accompanied him through the first three periods. Steve knew he couldn’t avoid Billy forever, not with basketball practice in the afternoon. Between the lessons and practice he sat on the hood of his car with Nancy and Jonathan, debating the ideas Mike and Will had come up with for Dustin’s birthday.

‘They want to do a treasure hunt campaign?’ Steve shook his head, ‘Why not go outside and have a real treasure hunt?’

‘Are you volunteering to organize the whole shebang?’

‘Yes, Nancy, I think I am, actually,’ Steve crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly, ‘I mean, you could help if you wanted to.’

Jonathan sat down next to him, putting the camera he had held in his hands in its bag, ‘He’s staring at you. Again.’

‘Who is?’ Nancy tried to look past her boyfriend and frowned, ‘Billy Hargrove?’

Steve sighed and rested his head in his hand, ‘I think I provoked him earlier. Max was a bit weird yesterday and I might have thought too much about it until I got to the point where I started to feel like I had understood the problem. I didn’t, as it turns out. At least not completely but I only found that out when I stood in front of him earlier.’

‘You have basketball today, don’t you?’ Nancy looked up to the school where Billy still leaned at a wall and stared in their direction.

Steve nodded, his face pulled into a grimace, ‘Yah, I guess you can have my records if I don’t make the day, Jonathan.’

‘Don’t awfulize it, I don’t think he’ll kill you,’ Jonathan nodded back up to the school.

Steve looked past him, prepared to slide off the car if he was spotted. But Billy seemed to have other things I mind and none of them appeared to be making Steve pay for looking, staring at him. Instead, his look was more forlorn than angry or wild. This Billy didn’t look like his normal self, Steve thought, and more than that, his earlier behaviour had been anything but what he was used to deal with. An insecure Billy was unpredictable enough to worry Steve, not being able to tell in what mood Billy was, posed the immediate danger of mood swings and sudden outbursts. Their earlier interaction still stuck to him, making him feel like he was missing something big.

’Alright then, basketball practice,’ Nancy patted his shoulder and jumped off the car, ‘You don’t want to be late. Are you ready, Jonathan? Your mother is expecting us.’

They made their way towards Jonathan’s car, arms snaked around each other’s waists. Steve let his gaze follow them until they drove off. Without them by his side he felt the strange feeling of the loneliness again, that enveloped him whenever they and the kids were not around or didn’t need him. Without them, without his tasks to fulfil, he felt empty. What other thing could he do but think and over-think anything coming to his mind.

‘Hey, Harrington – ready for practice?’

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Billy Hargrove plopping down on the hood of the Beemer, startling both the car and Steve. When he looked to the side he stared right into Billy’s enquiring eyes, not budging, not blinking.

‘What the hell is up with you, pretty boy? You are off your beaten path today,’ he leaned closer, a cloud of smoke and cologne offending Steve’s nose, ‘Is it because of that bruise? Because if anyone touched you –‘

‘We already clarified that, Hargrove. I banged my head on the bathroom sink, no reason to get all protective over…over what, exactly? You have never shown me any kind of concern, so why now? What’s your deal?’ Steve brushed his hair back and hopped off the car.

The look Billy threw him couldn’t be described as anything but hurt. It seemed like something had been wiped off his face that had been there before, the guards were down. Steve knitted his brows together, not willing to be stared down by Billy Hargrove.

A thought crossed his mind. He got his gym bag out of the trunk, rounded the car and crossed his arms over his chest. Billy fixated him, his look wary.

‘Is there a way to know whether someone deserves what they get,’ Steve thought back to Max seeking him out in the Henderson’s kitchen, ‘do you know who asked that yesterday? Your little sister – and now I think I understand why she asked that. Do people always get what they deserve, that was her second question. And there are just two possible interpretations. I might not be the best writer but I know how to analyse a situation.’

Billy seemed to falter a bit as Steve came up close to him. He recalled Max’s face, the silent hope in her eyes and the disappointment when he had said that people would always treat each other badly. There was something glinting in the corner of Billy’s eyes that Steve could only define as anxious anticipation.

‘I told her that not all people get what they deserve, that people are mean and good people get pushed over the edge until they break. I think Max was hoping for me to tell her that people are uncomplicated…I am sorry for having disappointed her. What I didn’t think of saying is that the people who think that they deserve the bad thing happening to them are wrong. They don’t deserve it, I wanted Max to know that, can you tell her?’

Billy swallowed dry and nodded. He slid off the car as well, grabbed his bag and ran off towards the gym. Steve followed slower, he could sense that Billy didn’t wish for them to arrive at the same time. It would cause questions from all sides because the whole school knew that Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove didn’t get along.

They still clashed during practice, Billy walked all over Steve with a determined, set expression. The only difference were the looks he threw Steve after each attack, apparently assuring he was okay after hitting the floor or crashing into him again and again. The outstretched hand helping Steve up stayed, there was no more pushing him back down or verbal taunting. Billy seemed to be collected, prepared to deal with whatever the day would bring.

‘Think about it,’ Steve slung his bag over his shoulder and looked back at Billy, ‘and please tell Max what I said earlier. It seemed pretty important to her to know. See you around, Hargrove.’

He turned around and left the gym humming a tune he had picked up from the kids. Supposedly, it was the theme of one of the video game the kids played when they were together. He couldn’t even tell which one it was because often enough he mixed the songs up into one melody. With his only plans of the day being a visit at Hopper’s he could relax in the car on the way there. His meetings with the Chief took place to discuss his future and explore his options in the police force. Hopper showed him the ropes of what the job comprised to help him find out if being a cop was something he could work with. None of the kids knew about it, he had told Dustin something about additional training, and since the kids did not care for sports, no one doubted his lie.

After his weekly meet ups he usually drove home, cooked something small for himself and settled down in front of the TV. Most times he fell asleep on the couch and woke up with an aching back and stiff neck. Only once his parents had come home to find him sleeping in the living room, on other nights when they were home, they didn’t pay any attention to him and what he did downstairs. But then again, they were not home most of the time, allowing Steve to do whatever he wanted once he was at home. He had tried almost everything, drinking until he passed out on the bathroom floor, late-night swimming, blasting his music at full volume and dancing around manically.

His parents never realized what happened during their absence. Even, when he left traces, empty booze bottles and pizza boxes, they would just walk past it and tell him to remember to do his homework. At some point after the pool incident it all had lost the excitement it had possessed before. Steve still felt like the kids had rubbed off on him, making him a different person altogether.

He unlocked the front door, threw his gym bag into the general direction of the laundry room and flopped down onto the couch. There was another portion of lasagne in the fridge, Steve thought about eating right after he would rest for a bit.

Resting turned into sleeping before long. Steve knew he wasn’t doing his body any good by falling asleep face down on the sofa again, his spine would be protesting. But this didn’t bother him in the exact moment his eyes closed and his dangling limbs sank to the floor next to the couch.

That was until a muffled knock woke him back up.

Steve lifted his head from the cushion beneath it and looked towards the door.

‘Who’s there?’

There was no answer, instead the door was opened and Steve remembered that he had meant to lock it when he had come home. One moment later, Billy Hargrove stood in the hallway, his face distorted in anger. Not the kind of anger that had led to Steve receiving a beating; the kind of anger one expressed when unsatisfied with their own self. Apparently, Billy felt this anger and discontent as well. Steve yawned and pointed to one of the armchairs.

‘I guess you had a chat with Max?’

Billy crossed the room and sat down, curling up in his seat. He pulled his legs up, cuddling them close to his upper body. His look was directed towards the ground, not meeting Steve’s questioning gaze.

‘Did you talk to Max? Have you told her –‘

‘It made her cry. It genuinely made her cry, Harrington! I couldn’t help her with anything, she was crying and I was trying to comfort her – but I couldn’t. As soon as I did, she was clinging to me and hung from my neck. Why would she do that, Steve?’

‘What, hug you? Because she cares about you, believe it or not. I guess she was wondering whether…you could be helped. I don’t want to impose, but I guess from her questions and demeanour that something is going on with you that I couldn’t understand. Don’t interrupt me!’

Billy, who had opened his mouth and turned to face him, sank back into the armchair, tugging on his legs again. Steve cleared his throat and scratched his head.

‘Anyway, I kind of guessed what happens in your home. Max hinted at it a few times but in the end I might not be as dumb and slow as many might think I am. It doesn’t matter, you know?’ Steve sighed and looked at the other boy, ‘What I told Max applies to you, doesn’t it? She was worried you might be…lost, I guess. And what I told her, is also for you to know. You might not deserve what happens to you and I think you need a reminder every now and then. You are not a bad person, you…have bad things happen to you, and it influences you to forget who you are. The anger is part of you by now, am I not right? I guess it is hard to remember that not everyone meets you with rejection and abuse.’

He plucked a few crumbs from his sweater, the need for the sofa to be brushed off once in a while seemed to grow with every meal he had in the living room. For the time being it seemed cleverer not to look at Billy who didn’t seem to move or make a sound after his harangue.

‘What do you know about rejection,’ Billy’s voice sounded raspy, a bit croaky even, and he set his feet back to the ground, ‘Who has King Steve been rejected by, hm?’

Steve met his cocky look and shrugged, ‘There was a moment when a new student came to Hawkins and the people I called my friends turned their backs to me. I felt alone, does that count?’

Billy looked at him as if he had disappeared and been replaced with an imposter. Something in his eyes sparked, realisation, Steve thought. He traced a lose string down his shirt, pulling on it for test purposes. A small sound had him look up again. Billy stood, one hand buried in his pocket, the other one fumbling with his hair.

‘Listen, I appreciate you sticking up for me, Harrington. I guess you’re as broken as I am – in a different way. Still, you can’t change anything. There is nothing you can do to make everything alright, better or make the shitty stuff disappear.’

‘You’re right,’ Steve stood up as well, ‘I can’t make it go away, I can’t change you or the people that treat you badly – I can make it easier, however.’

Emboldened by Billy’s curious look, he stepped closer, took his hand and let his thumb trace a pattern on the back of his hand. He smiled a sad little smile, holed up in the corner of his mouth as he lifted Billy’s hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips on his fingertips.

An amicable silence lay over them, at least for a moment. Then, Billy’s mouth pulled into a leering grin. He looked at their joined hands and huffed out a breath.

‘Are you going to start kissing me better now, pretty boy?’

‘I guess so,’ Steve smiled and leaned forward.

The kiss they shared tasted like iron and salt because Billy’s teeth clashed with Steve’s lips, scraping the skin off of them, drawing blood. He pressed his body up against Steve’s, holding him tight enough to press the air out of his lungs. His devouring mouth sucked on his lips, not letting him go. His lips wandered, tickling Steve’s throat and marking him as his own.

They broke apart, both panting heavily. Steve squeezed Billy’s hand that he still held in his own, and touched their foreheads together. For a moment they breathed the same air, sharing the intimate moment and each other’s closeness.

‘I must ask though,’ Steve whispered, feeling as if a normal tone could disturb the peace enveloping them, ‘did it help? In any way?’

He felt a pinch to his backside. When he looked at the other boy in annoyance, the shiteating grin was back on Billy’s face.

‘Well, pretty boy, you might just get my permission to kiss better wherever I am hurting from now on.’

[lawful-evil-novelist]

What Comes with Night

I tried to write Walter, I can’t write Walter, I tried though and that’s what counts.

Jonathan pushed his hair back from his face and listened quietly to Dorothy chattering away with their midnight guest.  He didn’t want to step around the doorway and tell the masked man he had to go away, not when Dorothy was having so much fun playing hostess.

Jonathan sank slowly to the ground and waited for a growling reply, all short sentence fragments, all playing along with Dorothy and her gleeful joy at this new guest.

With her screaming every word of it, she was going to wake up her brother.

“Daddy?” Pluto toddled out of his room, rubbing his eyes, “Why is Dorothy yelling?”

The adjacent room went silent and Pluto climbed up into Jonathan’s lap.

“I woke up Pluto!” Dorothy screamed, running into the hallway about to head for Jonathan’s room before sighting her father holding Pluto, who had promptly fallen right back to sleep in his arms.  Dorothy gave a sheepish little wave.

“Hi Daddy,” she smiled, “we have a guest.  Said his name was...Raw Shark?  I wanna know who names themselves something that dumb.”

Jonathan stood and turned the corner, shooting the masked man a glare.

“Dorothy go back to bed,” he ordered, “you’re up way past your bedtime.”

“Okay,” Dorothy nodded and trudged back to her room, then leaned back around to wave at the masked man, “bye Raw Shark, I still think you have a dumb name, but you didn’t end the world, so you’re cool I guess.”

The masked man nodded slowly and waited for Dorothy’s door to close before talking.

“Will that one wake up?” he asked.

“He absolutely will if you start talking,” Jonathan snapped, “and I have some choice fucking words for you Walter.”

“I’ll get Pluto back to bed,” Diana interrupted, lifting Pluto from Jonathan’s arms, “and be gentle Jon, he didn’t hurt her.”

“He hurt the window,” Jonathan gestured to the broken living room window.  Diana didn’t say anything and walked away.  Jonathan sighed and turned back to the masked man.

“Really?” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ve been clean for two years.  I understand Joker, I understand Bane and Harvey, I might even give you the slightest leeway with Zach, but my kids?”

“I don’t trust reformation,” the man commented.

“And I don’t trust people who eat eggs raw but here we are,” Jonathan retorted, “Look, I don’t care, that you’re checking on my kids to make sure they’re safe, I don’t care, but you cannot do that when there are rogue kids who aren’t safe, and that lack of safety isn’t the fault of a parent.  Have you seen what James and Harriet Machin do to Lonnie’s older two?  Or do you not care because they’re not in Lonnie’s hands and therefore must be safe.”

“They’re better off with their grandparents,” the man argued.

“James Machin beats them black and blue and you think they’re better off?” Jonathan shouted, “What fucking bizarre world do you live in where a child being beaten is better than a child in the hands of a father that might have a seedy past.  You’re actually going to hold the actions of an abused teenager against him for the rest of his life?”

“He killed people.”

“So have you.”

“You don’t get to pull that on me you know what they did.”

Jonathan scoffed, “Yeah, funny how you know what Strange did and he doesn’t get the same scrutiny any of us get.”

The man went dead silent, then replied.

“That was uncalled for.”

“Was it?”

“And rude.”

“I’m sorry are we both in the same room with a broken window because you can’t use a door?”

The room went silent, and Jonathan continued, “She’s not going to be like that forever, and I don’t want you getting attached.”

“I won’t.”

“Walter, you get attached, even if you’re trying really hard not to, you get attached.”

“Why does that concern you?”

“Because eventually, one day, Dorothy will put two and two together and realize that her childhood tea party guest only ever stopped by to make sure her father wasn’t mistreating her. Do you honestly think that she’ll always be happy to see you?  Always be six?  She’s going to grow up Walter.  They all are.”

The man didn’t reply.

“And whether you like it or not,” Jonathan continued, “not all of them will look back on you fondly, or appreciate what you’re willing to do for them.”

The man grunted and walked towards the window.

“Will you use the fucking door Walter?”

The man grunted again and ambled to the door.

“Think about what I said Walter, think about whether or not this is worth what you know will happen.”

No reply, the door simply slammed shut.

“You’re stressed,” Diana observed, creeping out of Pluto’s room and closing the door until it was open just a crack.

“Does it really show that badly?” Jonathan sighed.

“You’re prone to worry,” Diana granted, leaning on Jonathan, “I believe Zeus mentioned that you were, correct?”

Jonathan nodded, “He did, offhandedly.  What am I gonna do about him?”

“Walter?  Preferably nothing,” Diana tugged Jonathan’s sleeve and he slowly followed her back to their bedroom, “he’s not for you to worry about Jon.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“You’re worried that he won’t be able to handle the kids growing up,” Diana guessed.

“He won’t, I know he won’t. I’m more worried about his response.”

“I’ll talk to Dan about it tomorrow.”

“And I’ll talk to Vic, if he’s awake and not trying to sustain himself on Quil.”

“What?”

“He mixed Dayquil and Nyquil to just form something he calls Quil.  I call it the worst drug trip that’s perfectly legal.”

Diana snorted, “Sounds like Vic.”

“Sounds like me in my Scarecrow days.”

“Because you’re the pinnacle of good health now.”

“Oh I know I’m not, but I don’t drink like I used to.”

Diana leaned over and kissed Jonathan’s cheek, “Don’t wear yourself out worrying about others. There are far more vital things to keep you awake at night.”

“Like you?” Jonathan teased. Diana gave Jonathan another light kiss and shifted to lie back down.

“Go back to bed Jon.”

Jon waited for Diana to fall back asleep before burying his head in his hands and heaving a deep sigh.

What was he going to do?

[the-awkward-writer]

A Terrible Thing

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Jonathan (OFC), mentions of Sam

Word Count: 2.8k (including lyrics)

Warnings: oh lord. There is a shit ton of angst. Swearing, death of a major character, cancer, drinking

A/N: Here we go! Fic #4 of Angst Appreciation Day! I was introduced to this song not too long ago by my friend, @just-a-fiction-lover​. I think she actually hates me because this song tore my heart out of my chest and ripped it into a million tiny pieces. Huge thank you to @iputthesininbuisness, who beta’d ALL of my AAD fics. You rock, boo.

Based off of: Terrible Things: Mayday Parade

x

By the time I was your age, I'd give anything To fall in love truly, was all I could think That's when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams The most beautiful woman, that I'd ever seen

Dean sat across from the eighteen year old young man. The young man, Jonathan Samuel, was a spitting image of his father.

Dean looked at his hands. His heart was racing in his chest. His hands were practically quaking, and his stomach was in knots. He didn’t know how to do this.

He had talked about you before, but what he was about to tell his son, it was going to be the hardest thing.

Jonathan slung his arm across the back of the couch, his long legs extended in front of him. He had gotten taller than Dean, measuring at 6′3 by the time he was 13. “What’s this little meeting for?”

Dean took in a deep, not at all calming breath, “I have only ever told you small parts of the story, Johnnie.”

John rolled his eyes. He hated the nickname his father still used. “Dad, I’m a legal adult now. There’s no need to use that nickname anymore.”

Dean ran a hand down his face. He looked older than he actually was. There were gray hairs littering his beard and hair. The frown lines were deep in his forehead. The dark bags under his eyes were a permanent fixture. His eyes held more pain than ever. It was evident to anyone that made eye contact with Dean Winchester that he’d seen more than enough horrors to last one hundred lifetimes. “Johnnie, I know that. Trust me, I do. I raised you.”

Dean held his breath, trying to calm his nerves. “The full story?” Jonathan asked, bringing his knees up, his elbows slinging across them.

Dean looked across the coffee table. Jonathan may have been eighteen, but Dean still saw the 7 year old boy that sat in the cold hospital bed next to his dying mother, holding her hand, and comforting her until the end.

“By the time I was your age,” Dean said. “I’d give anything to fall in love truly. It was all I could think about.”

Jonathan shifted on the couch, settling in for the conversation he knew was going to last for hours. Tears were going to be shed. Painful memories rising from their grave, a whole life was going to be uncovered.

“You know what I did for a living,” Dean said.

Jonathan nodded. John knew what went bump in the night. His parents had never lied to him about it. They wanted to keep him safe, yet they didn’t involve him in it.

As soon as Dean found out you were pregnant, both of you left the hunting life. You got a nursing job, and Dean found a job in an auto shop, quickly becoming their lead mechanic.

“I was constantly worried. I didn’t think I was going to make a difference in this world. It seemed like I was fighting and fighting, but I wasn’t getting anywhere, and no one was noticing me. I was starting to realize that I wasn’t going to make a difference,” Dean spoke softly. “And then I met your mother.”

She said, "Boy, can I tell you a wonderful thing? I can't help but notice, you're staring at me. I know I shouldn't say this, but I really believe, I can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me." Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things.

Dean met you during a hunt in Minnesota. He and Sam drove 17 hours, only to find that the case was already dealt with.

By the time that Sam and Dean found the monster’s headquarters in an old abandoned house, you had found the cause of the disturbances, and defeated it. By yourself. In less than a day.

“You’re a little too late, boys,” you said, wiping the blood off of your knife as you leaned against the rotting door frame.

Dean whipped around, gun raised. “Who are you?” he bellowed.

You raised your hands in surrender, “I’m a hunter. I’m normal. I swear.”

With the gun still pointed at you, Dean spoke, “You solved this case?”

You nodded slowly.

“By yourself?”

“Always the tone of surprise,” you teased.

Dean lowered the gun, “You can’t blame me for being surprised that a little thing like you killed those things.”

“Well believe it, Winchester.”

“How do you know us?” Sam finally piped up from the corner.

You snorted, kicking off of the door frame, “Please, you’re all that anyone ever talks about.”

“So how did you get started?” Dean asked you an hour later.

You were sat next to each other in a crowded bar. Sam had already left with some brunette for the night.

“Ah,” you said, taking a swing of your beer. “My dad raised me in it. His parents were killed by a wendigo.”

“And your mom?” Dean asked. He knew he was treading on delicate territory. A hunter’s family is never a good topic of discussion.

“She left right after I was born.”

Dean nodded, yet he didn’t completely understand.

“How about a few more drinks, on me?” You break the tense silence and wave the bartender over, asking for a few more beers.

Three beers is all it takes to get you plastered, “A bit of a lightweight, aren’t we?” Dean teases as he lugs you out to the car.

“You know,” your voice was quiet as Dean helped you into the Impala.

Even in your drunken state, you waited until Dean slid into the driver’s seat to finish your statement. “Can tell you a wonderful thing?”

Dean chuckled as he started the car and backed out of the parking space. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

“I know that I shouldn’t be saying this because I’m drunk, but by the way you look at me, I’d say you’re in love with me, Winchester.”

“You sure are special Y/N,” Dean said, his eyes trained on the road.

When he didn’t hear a response, he looked to his right to see you passed out against the window.

“Definitely a special one.”

Now, most of the time we'd have too much to drink And we'd laugh at the stars and we'd share everything Too young to notice, and too dumb to care Love was a story that couldn't compare. I said, "Girl, can I tell you a wonderful thing? I made you a present with paper and string. Open with care now, I'm asking you, please. You know that I love you, will you marry me?”

“Your mom hunted with Sam and me,” Dean said. “The hunts could go one of two ways.”

John shifted where he sat. He turned his body towards his father, his interest peaking. He still couldn’t believe that his dad was opening up to him about a topic that was tabooed for 11 years.

“Good or bad,“ Dean said simply. John noticed the far off look in his father’s eyes. His father was envisioning his mother. And it was breaking his heart. “If it went well, everyone survived. No injuries, or very little. So, we’d go out and get a drink to celebrate.” Dean smiled softly, reminiscing on the happy nights. “Then the bad. If it was bad, that meant people died, and we were hurt. After we stitched each other up, we’d either grab the biggest bottle of whiskey we could find, or we’d go to the nearest bar and drink everything they had to offer. But either way, your mom and I would always find ourselves in the backseat of the Impala, just talking.”

It was a good hunt this time.

The kids made it out safe. The parents made it out safe. And the hunters made it out safe. Two families were safe and were free to live another day.

You and Dean stumbled out of the bar, both of you still riding the adrenaline rush. The buzz of the alcohol mixed with the adrenaline high made you trip over your own foot, and grasp Dean’s arm for support.

“Jesus sweetheart,” he chuckled as he dug around in his pocket for his car keys. “You only had one beer.”

You giggled, “I didn’t even drink all of it!“ you exclaimed.

“You’re only proving my point further, sweetheart,” Dean said as he helped you into the car.

Once you were buckled in, Dean shut the door and hopped into the driver’s side of the bench seat.

“Hey Dean?” you asked softly.

Dean glanced over at you, the back of your head was against the window, your body turned towards him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he knew you were walking the line between heavily tipsy and drunk, which means you were going to get talkative.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Dean smiled softly, he licked his lips, “A firefighter.”

You snorted. “Even when you were a kid you wanted to save people. Funny how that didn’t change.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “What did you want to be?”

“A nurse,” you ran a hand through your hair. “I was a straight A, honors student. I had a full ride to John Hopkins all lined up. Until...” your voice trailed off. Dean was able to fill in the banks himself.

The old dirt road was dark and desolate. Sam wasn’t expecting you home until the next morning, so Dean pulled over to the side of the road.

You looked over at him, confused, “I just realized that I have been dating you for over a year, and yet I don’t know that much about you at all.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Well, Winchester. What do you want to know?”

“That was the night I knew I wanted to marry your mother, “ Dean said.

A soft, yet painful, smile flitted across Dean’s face as he twiddled his thumbs.

“So, in the spur of the moment, I took one of the rings off my finger, and I took her hand.”

“This is completely and utterly crazy,” Dean said. “But I’m in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You now that I love you, so will you marry me?”

You were silent for a long moment. The moment seemed to last forever. Dean felt stupid. He shook his head, “It was stupid. I’m sorry I-” Dean was cut off as you slid across the bench seat and slammed your lips to his.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Dean,” you whispered against his lips.

You thought Dean’s face you break in two with the size of his smile. He slipped the ring over your ring finger on your left hand, only for it to fall right off.

You practically doubled over at the hilarity of the situation. “I’ll just wear it on my thumb,” you said and transferred the thick metal ring to your left thumb.

Dean laughed too, before pulling you in for another kiss.

Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things You'll learn, one day, I'll hope and I'll pray, That God shows you differently. She said, "Boy, can I tell you a terrible thing? It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks. Please, don't be sad now, I really believe, You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

“Johnnie. I need you to know that this is not me trying to make you unhappy. I just...” Dean’s voice cracked, his voice choked with emotion. “I just want to protect you. I pray to Chuck that he doesn’t screw up you life like he did to your mother and me.”

“Now,” Dean drew in a breath. This was going to be the hardest part of the conversation. “Your mom died of cancer.”

John nodded, “I know.”

“About three weeks before she was diagnosed, she had been having really bad stomach aches, and she was bleeding a lot.”

“Babe,” Dean brushed your hair off of your sweat slicked forehead. You need to get this checked out.”

“I know. I just...” you stopped in the middle of your sentence, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“I know,” Dean said. “I’m scared too. You’re the love of my life. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

The next day, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment. Blood was drawn, tests were taken. You were told that the results would be in a few weeks.

The next two weeks were hell for you and Dean. You were both stressed out from the results of the test, and you were both exhausted from running around with your rambunctious seven year old.

The two weeks were both the longest, and shortest weeks of your life.

Exactly two weeks from your doctor's appointment, you got a call while at work.

“Mrs. Winchester?”

“This is she,” you said as you cradled the phone between your ear and shoulder, reaching to get the bag of chips that just dropped from the vending machine.

“We’re going to need you to make an appointment as soon as possible. We need to discuss your test results.”

You were taken back by the doctor’s bluntness, but scheduled an appointment for right after your shift at the hospital.

The day passed in a whirlwind of impatient parents, and sick children in the pediatric ward. And soon enough, you were driving the short distance to your doctor’s office.

The check in was quick enough, and the wait was quicker, making you afraid of what was waiting for you.

You were led into a small office, two people, an older man and a younger woman, already occupying it.

The older man you knew to be your doctor, Dr. Smith. The younger woman, however, you hadn’t the faintest clue as to who she was.

“Mrs. Winchester,” Dr. Smith greeted you, “Please take a seat.”

Your heart was racing, your stomach twisted into knots. “What is it?”

The young woman spoke this time, “Hello, I’m Dr. Moore. The oncologist.”

One word was all it took to shatter your world.

Slow, so slow I fell to the ground on my knees. So don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose If you're given the choice, then I beg you to choose To walk away, walk away, don't let her get you. I can't bear to see the same happen to you. Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things The incessant beeps became slower.

“Please, Y/N,” Dean cried, sobs wracking his body. “I need you. Please don’t go. Johnny needs you. Please, baby,” he cried.

He gripped your hand tighter, pressing it to his lips. “I need you to stay with me. Please.”

You looked over at Dean. With your last breath, you spoke three simple words, “I love you.”

The beeping stopped, only to be replaced with a high pitched squeal.

Dean slid off of the stiff, uncomfortable hospital chair, onto his knees. He draped an arm over your waist, crying into your chest. “Y/N.” Your name was a cry, a plea on his lips.

Three nurses and a doctor came in, all four of them had to drag Dean off of your body.

Little did Dean know, there was a boy standing at the window to the hospital room. His name was Jonathan Samuel Winchester.

He just watched his mother die, and his father fall apart.

“John,” Dean used the name Jonathan wished, in hopes of him actually listening to him. “I’m begging you. Don’t put yourself through it. If you’re given the choice, I’m begging you to choose to walk away and don’t let her get to you, okay? I already lost your mother, I couldn’t bear to see the same thing happen to you.”

Jonathan looked his father in the eyes, his eyes that looked exactly like yours were staring at Dean. “Dad,” he choked out.

Tears fell down Dean’s face. “Son, I’m only telling you this because life can do terrible things.”

John swiped a hand down his face and nodded, “I understand, Dad.”

Dean felt a weight lift off of his shoulders.

Dean wanted his son to be happy. He really, truly did, but Dean couldn’t bear the thought of John going through the same thing he did.

i’m so evil. i love it.

tags: want to be added or removed? shoot me an ask!

Forevers:

@evyiione, @iputthesininbuisness, @mogaruke, @thatshellfiredean, @jannalionheart, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @whit85-blog, @allofmyimagination, @ria132love, @stressedbisexualwinchester, @infinity-dreamchaser, @not-impala, @bluedefundead, @bluecookiesandbooks

Dean Tags:

@iamabeautifulperson18, @akshi8278, @pretty-fortune