#me and my brother exchanged this exact look as well like Oh okay we goin for it hes crazy crazy okay. cool.

[gene-jackett]

the funniest possible reaction to the villain opening his part of the song. like. that.

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Two: Chapter Eleven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The brothers stayed with Nettlecloud and the Vultures, navel-gazing and sharing stories for quite a while – long enough that it was getting dark when they reluctantly agreed that they ought to go back to the settlement. Their mother sent them away with many blessings and an affectionate farewell. Mistface glanced back as they left to see her stiffly lower herself onto the ground and stretch out her neck on the ground with a slight grimace. He chose not to mention it, but from the look he shared with Greyleaf, he was thinking the same thing. Still, they said nothing on the walk back.

Laurelclaw was the first to greet them. He was sitting and shuffling his paws anxiously, standing up immediately upon catching sight of Mistface. It was a long minute before the brothers were close enough for it to be appropriate to actually move forward and intercept them.

���There you are!” he said brightly, and then, awkwardly, “How is Nettlecloud?”

Mistface didn’t say anything. His eyes lowered and shifted to the side.

Laurelclaw immediately deflated. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is… she’s still with us, at least?”

“For now,” Greyleaf said quietly. “I’m going to see what Redheart needs.”

Before anyone could respond, he walked right past Laurelclaw and into the Clast camp. Mistface watched him go, slowly taking in a breath and letting it out with more force than was necessary.  

Laurelclaw watched Greyleaf until he went around a house and disappeared from view. Then he leaned in and whispered to Mistface, “I thought I heard him screaming something this morning.”

“We can talk with Beetlefoot and Darkpelt about that,” Mistface murmured back. “Where are they?”

“This way.” Laurelclaw gestured with his tail for Mistface to follow him and padded off. Mistface, not paying much attention, followed silently.

The two went around a house to the right of the stone clearing – not so far that they were conspicuously hiding, but far enough that the activity in camp would not let someone easily stumble upon a secret conversation. Darkpelt and Beetlefoot were waiting at the house’s back wall with several pieces of prey.

“He’s back,” Laurelclaw announced, unnecessarily.

“About time, too.” Darkpelt lowered herself down and sprawled out in the growing shade. “Laurelclaw insisted on waiting for you before we ate.”

Beetlefoot said nothing. He merely scanned Mistface with his eyes, seemed to understand the situation immediately, and nodded stiffly. Somehow, the motion perfectly conveyed a silent message of sympathy. Mistface nodded back, hoping he could show some appreciation the same way.

“You’re awfully quiet, fluffy.” Darkpelt grabbed a leg of her rabbit and started tugging at it, speaking through her teeth. “The old girl die today?”

“No,” was all Mistface said, but the single word was enough of a warning that Darkpelt didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she pulled the leg off and started chewing at the haunch. The toms pulled their own prey closer to them and started eating in silence.

Half a minute passed before Darkpelt’s ears swiveled back and forth and she motioned for everyone to huddle closer, her voice quiet. “Laurelclaw mentioned he heard you arguing with Greyleaf before you left.”

“Wasn’t really arguin’.” Mistface absentmindedly peeled away from of the fur off of his ground squirrel. “He burst outta nowhere and got upset for a moment. Redheart’s feedin’ him some dangerous thoughts and it all terrifies him.”

He went over the conversation in detail, feeling the entire time like he was betraying his brother’s trust (which, really, he was, even if it was for a good cause). Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot exchanged concerned looks as Mistface described the sudden change in Greyleaf’s entire body as he shouted about the safety of the Territory (or lack thereof).

“That’s not like him at all,” Beetlefoot said when the story was concluded. “It must be Redheart’s influence. He may be nervous, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s been sensible.”

“Same here,” Mistface replied. “Point of fact, he’s been smarter than me for our whole lives. I don’t know how some deputy can make him… well…”

“Frightened,” Laurelclaw finished, looking empathetically unhappy. “He’s scared. I thought that yelling sounded angry, but…”

Darkpelt said nothing. Her ears were perked and her blind eyes were, unusually, slightly narrowed. She was almost frowning, looking deep in thought. Mistface took the opportunity to continue eating, not that he wanted to. Recalling his brother’s face in that moment made his stomach tense.

There was another round of silence before Mistface finally looked up at Darkpelt. “You got somethin’?”

“Almost,” Darkpelt said, back to that rare seriousness. “I was informed before this mission that Greyleaf suffers from anxiety and regular nightmares.”

“Ever since I can remember, yes.”

“Even with that, he’s very intelligent,” Darkpelt continued, eyes narrowed further. “Skilled healer, and, like you boys said, sensible. Never pulled a stupid move in his life, graduated apprenticehood quicker than usual because of his skill.”

“Right.” Mistface tilted his head a little. “Where is this goin’?”

“Almost the exact same things have been said about Redheart.” Darkpelt’s tail tapped the ground in a steady rhythm. “Incredibly intelligent, perfect deputy material, graduated early, been described to me as practical and sensible.” She looked up in Mistface’s direction, nearly squinting, like she was trying to see something in pitch black shadow. “Suffered nightmares since she was an apprentice.”

Mistface blinked in surprise.

Laurelclaw leaned closer, voice hushed conspiratorially. “There’s a connection, then, somehow.”

“It could be anything,” Beetlefoot muttered, just as quiet. “A coincidence, or that sort of personality is drawn to itself. She could be lying to him about everything, and he trusts that she’s right because he's with a similar person as him.”

“Greyleaf ain’t stupid,” Mistface said shortly. “And that’d be a mighty strong coincidence.”

“What I want to find out,” Darkpelt mused, “is how they came to know about each other in the first place. That’s important.”

“Isn’t she in the running for becoming a high deputy?” Beetlefoot scowled, sounding disappointed in Redheart for not following her potential. “She could have heard about him or met him when she visited the leaders.”

“She’s visited them twice, and Greyleaf could’ve easily been gone during those times,” Darkpelt said. “Usually, the leaders come to cats that they see potential in. It’s a testing sort of thing. They want to see the deputy in their natural environment, among common cats like us.”

“Sealstar said something like that to me before,” Laurelclaw piped up. “He said that the best way to know if someone can replace a leader is if they treat the cats beneath them as if they’re on the same level or even above the deputy.” He paused, then smiled a little. “And if they’re the type to not be trying to get into that position to begin with – just wanting to serve their charges.”

“Which fits Redheart perfectly,” Darkpelt said. “We’ve seen that for ourselves. Which-“ she tilted her chin down, emphasizing the word “-means that she wouldn’t have much time, need or opportunity to meet and get to know Greyleaf, all that way, away from her family. Mistface, you said that you saw them talking at the Coterie.”

“I did.” Mistface narrowed his eyes a little himself, thinking. “They seemed like they knew each other. Leastwise, a mite bit. Greyleaf didn’t look nervous around her at all.”

“So how did they come to be familiar enough that they’re teaming up on this plot and talking so easily?” Darkpelt’s voice dropped to an intense whisper. “What is their connection? How do they know each other?”

No one responded. They were all looking at each other for answers, both puzzled and grave.

“We should send for the leaders,” Beetlefoot said at last. “They could tell us if Redheart and Greyleaf have met before. And we’re going to run out of time very soon to stop anyone from leaving.”

“Not yet.” Darkpelt turned to him now. “We don’t have enough information. We don’t know when they plan to leave, if it comes to fruition at all, and there’s more to this story than we’ve been told. I doubt the leaders will know about it.”

“Then…” Laurelclaw tilted his head. “We just wait? Isn’t that risky?”

“Our job is to find out everything we can,” Darkpelt replied. “And we haven’t done that yet. My instincts – which are never wrong, may I say – they’re telling me that something’s missing. And I intend to find that out before I let the leaders make their move.”

Mistface gave her a stern look, which he hoped she could feel. “You shouldn’t let your curiosity and, may I say, ego distract you from your task.”

Darkpelt didn’t look even slightly offended. “I prefer knowing everything I can before I make a move. Believe me, as a professional spy, it’s dangerous to just say ‘that’s good enough’ and leave. Lives can be lost if you ignore or miss something.”

Mistface blinked slowly. “Didn’t know you care about other lives.”

“Mistface,” Laurelclaw warned, sounding afraid to even say it.

Again, barely a visible response from Darkpelt. “I’m not always a twat, if you can believe it. Especially when it comes to doing my job right.”

Mistface said nothing.

“Now-“ Darkpelt’s voice returned to its normal volume and she pawed for her rabbit, pulling it even closer to her. “Enough gab. I’m still hungry, and it’ll be time to sleep soon. I want to eat and get a good nest.”

Mistface looked down at his squirrel, hardly noticing it through the haze of his thoughts. Getting to spend time with his mother today was barriered behind the ideas and questions presented to him just now, and the outburst from Greyleaf. It was more thinking than he had ever done in his life, and it was already wearing him out.

He blinked back to reality when Laurelclaw gently nudged him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Mistface took a moment to consider his response before saying quietly, “I’ll live.”

Laurelclaw’s face wrinkled even more in concern, but he nodded and returned to his food. “Well, if you need to talk, I’m here."

Mistface’s eyes went to absently gaze somewhere near his prey. He barely remembered to respond. “Much appreciated.”

[allyvampirelass29]

Chapter 5: A Good Night to Die

A HEROES Fanfiction   Angel Before the Fall Series By: Allyssa J. Watkins

“I am going to kill Sylar tonight."

Noah turned the iron spike over and over in his fingers, practically trembling with anticipation. It was red with rust and dried blood. The first time he'd held this spike, he was pulling it out of Sylar's skull. Tonight it was going back in for good. I am going to kill Sylar tonight. How many times had he said those words aloud, wielded them like his choice weapon, threatened it, savored it, promised it, to Claire as she sobbed against his shoulder, to The Company as he stood over the blood-stained carpet of yet another Special with the top of their head sawn off? Hundreds. And every promise, every vow had been a lie. Sylar was an infection, a cancer that he could never quite get all of, that kept coming back even stronger than before. Finally, after four grisly years, Sylar Gray had made a mistake. He'd fallen in love, and given Noah a heart to break, a weak spot to press and ultimately shatter. The plan was foolproof, flawless, and would end in Sylar's Death. It was an impending event, the only outcome, an actual definite. I am going to kill Sylar tonight.

He squeezed his fingers into a fist around the spike, his eyes sharp and focused as he imagined it dripping with Sylar's blood. That snarky psychopath had raised his lethal finger for the last time. I've got you, Gabriel. No more running, no more smart remarks or murderous parlor tricks. The chase is over.

"Hey Bennet, we got Ally to the cell, and gave your orders to the five guards in position. Man, your Primatech Paper Phonies, they make my brother's guys look like punk kids playing paintball!"

"Is she still unconscious? I need her completely blacked out, Sylar's already enough of a variable without adding Mrs. Smith too. In fact, I want all the intercom speakers to the detention wing silenced, alarms, emergency warnings, kill it all. When he comes, I do NOT want her to know. And Peter...... they aren't your brother's guys........ make no mistake, they're DANKO'S guys. Your brother is just the friendly face that legitimizes an ultra illegal operation. Don't forget that. I'm watching out for him. If we need anyone right now, it's Nathan Petrelli. He'll come around, you'll see. Killing Sylar is exactly the win we need to get him to stop this ridiculous witch hunt.

Peter got really quiet, biting the corner of his lip before looking at Noah with solemn eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Noah. God....... I needed to hear that. It all comes down to tonight. I just want my brother back. Ally's down for the count, I'll tell the security guys about the intercom........"

"I have a question. What happens if someone comes here, actually wanting to buy some paper?"

Noah cracked a smile, as he pocketed the spike. "Good question, Parkman. You know, it's funny, in all my twenty plus years in the business, that has never once happened."

Noah stared at his flip phone on his desk, and Peter followed his gaze.

"Has he called yet?"

"Sylar? No, not yet, but it's coming. I can feel his hatred and rage from here. Rene hasn't checked in though, that's what's worrying me. I told him eight o'clock on the dot, or I'm deporting him."

"Relax. I just got off the phone with Claire, she's fine, she's having some kind of sleepover girls night with her dorm mates."

Noah whirled around, his features hard. "I didn't say anything about Claire, what do you mean you just got off the phone with CLAIRE!?"

"Whoah, Angry Dad, she called ME!! Your daughter's worried about you, Noah. C'mon don't give me that look, I played it cool, I didn't tell her anything about tonight. I'm her uncle too, remember? I told her Sylar was a near miss, and that The Haitian's there strictly as a precaution. Smart move by the way, Sylar's not getting anywhere near her with him hanging around.

"Perfect. Now you know my daughter's exact location, just what I wanted, and HELLO, "Cool Uncle Peter," how do you know that, "girls night sleepover," isn't the secret code for "college rager party with tons of strange boys," any one of them being SYLAR!? She's MY daughter, Peter, she may not have my actual DNA, but she inherited my lying ability pretty quick."

"I just want to say," Parkman started, looking at Noah earnestly, "I myself, didn't hear anything about where Claire may or may not be. And if she is where I don't know, Sylar's not getting it from me."

"Na, she's not trying to pull one over on you, Noah, I heard Notebook playing in the background, and at least one girl crying over some guy named Chad. I think we're good."

Parkman made a face, "Wait.......You've SEEN Notebook?"

"What? No......" Peter stammered, his cheeks turning red.

"How did you recognize it if you haven't seen it?" Parkman asked trying not to laugh.

"I..... I just guessed- I mean, I'm sure she told me the name of the- one of the other girls probably-

Both Parkman and Noah leaned in expectantly, with knowing smiles.

"Alright fine!!! I watched it with my mom one night when I got off late, she'd been fighting with my dad, and GEEZ it was just the one time, okay!"

"Did you fantasize about being Ryan Gosling?"

"No! Well, maybe a little....... Rachel McAdams is hot, alright?"

"Let's hope for the love of GOD you lie better to my daughter, than you do to us."

Suddenly the flip phone on Noah's desk rang, and a cold, deathly silence filled the room.

"That's him. Everybody out. It's showtime."

**********

Noah inhaled deeply, as he took the phone in his hands. The ring sounded angry, accusing. He flipped it open, his hand steady, and slowly brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Nothing at first. Silence. But it was the Sylar kind of silence, the calm before the storm, the kind of silence that was an obvious threat. He heard it then, the heavy, erratic breathing, and could almost picture Sylar, shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to keep his composure.

"Hey Syyy! I had a feeling you might check in. How's it goin' buddy? Thanks for the scar."

"......... Where......... is............ she?" Sylar's voice was seething, animalistic, and not at all human. It sounded the way you'd talk to someone right before you murdered them.

"I've got her, Gabriel. You want her back? You better be willing to make a deal."

Noah could practically hear Sylar's nostrils flaring on the other line, his fuming inhale as he tried to steady his breathing. More silence.

"Sylar?"

"DAMN you to HELL, Noah! You son of a BITCH, you have NO idea what you've just done!!!!"

"You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth? You'll be kissing her goodbye, if you don't start talking."

More silence

"Let me guess, Noah," Sylar responded venomously, saying Noah's name like it was an insult all its own. "This is the part where I break down sobbing, the distraught boyfriend, begging you not to hurt her, and offer myself in exchange, right? WRONG. I don't plan on dealing. This is a courtesy call. THIS is the LAST chance you'll EVER have to hand her over, before I raise hell all around you and take her anyway. You don't do every single damn thing I tell you, then you're in for the WORST night of your life, and oh GOD you're going to wish I'd just killed you." Sylar chuckled coldly, his voice dripping with dark sarcasm.

"You're not really in the position to be making any demands, right now, Sy." Noah smiled, his eyes razor sharp, practically feeling Sylar's back arch, disgusted. "I know you. You're playing it cool, chillin' like a villain, but you're going CRAZY without her, it's tearing you up inside, I can feel it, I can hear it, in the edge in your voice. You're off your handle, and you don't know what the HELL you're going to do........."

Sylar's nostrils flared with his fury, and he scrunched the burner phone in his hand as he lowered it against his cheek, tempted to crush it with his fist, his eyes flashing like wildfire embers.

He looked at the violent destruction all around him, half of it he didn't even remember doing, he'd been so blind with rage. It was one of his old haunts, a long ago abandoned hotel in Queens called, "The Rogue." The kind of place he would have never taken his lady. Dark blood spatter on the floor from previous kills, slashed paintings, broken ceramic pieces from lamps, ashtrays, soap dishes, anything he could throw, torn down wallpaper, green marble actually dug out from the floor, crumbling holes in the wall, shredded curtains and sheets, and an entire mattress torn clean in half, feathers still floating in the dusty air, after he'd ripped his way through the down pillows. Every single thing in the room had been ravenously demolished. His whole body shook with his deep hatred of Noah and how dead on he was. Damn right, he'd gone mental.

"Face it, Sylar. You're out of moves. Your shield is literally down. Checkmate, because I've got your Queen. Step away from the board and turn yourself in. You do that, and I might even let you say goodbye."

"What do you mean LITERALLY down!?" Sylar said far louder and much more concerned than he'd meant to. Damn it. He turned his head at an exact angle, feeling his chest expand. "No....... no, nice try, you wouldn't kill her before you got to me. Ha. Yeah right, Good Guy Noah Bennet. She's alive. I would know if you were lying. Besides, she probably reminds you too much of your precious Claire."

"Gabriel, you know better than anyone that Good Guys are capable of some very BAD things. She's not dead...... not yet. But if you don't give yourself up...... She will be. Especially if you even say Claire's name one more time."

Sylar waited for it, the reassuring tingle, his body signaling Noah's lie, his vision shaking. Noah was a good liar, but he wasn't a killer. He waited..... But it never came.

"I should have KILLED you in the alley, Noah. I had you. I had your throbbing jugular between my fingers, and I should have squeezed hard, until it burst open."

"You didn't have me, Gabriel. I had you. I had everything right where I wanted it. If you'd taken one step where you weren't supposed to be, I'd have shot her in the chest, her blood cloaking possibilities be damned."

"Please. No you wouldn't have. Even if you did, I can heal, or did you forget? You know who you can thank for that. One injection of my blood, and she'd be alive, and you'd be just another NYC homicide. You EVER shoot her, or so much as touch one curl, and I'll cut out your beating heart."

Noah grinned jovially. Oh he didn't know, didn't even realize it yet. He wished he could see his face as he told him. "Wrong. Your blood can't save her, you fool. One shot, she's dead. Her blood can't be altered by anyone but herself, or did YOU forget? You can give her every drop you've got, but she's not coming back. It doesn't matter if I killed her then, or if I kill her now, or if YOU kill her later. That's right, one day you're going to get in one of your moods, you're going to get angry, you're going to work out your aggression without thinking, and she's going to be standing too close....... Don't you get it!? You're going to kill her the same way you did your own sweet mother, the same way you killed VIRGINIA!!!!"

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY MY MOTHER'S NAME!!!!!!! Sylar screamed into the phone, his eyebrows slanted dangerously downward, his bottom lip shuddering, incensed. He punched another hole into the wall, with a yell, felt it crumble with the force of his fist, and watched his bruised and bleeding knuckles melt softly back into perfect skin. He was nauseous, his head swimming. He couldn't save Ally. If they took her life, he couldn't bring her back........

"You can save her, Sylar. Turn yourself in, and she goes free, untouched, safe, and you'll never have to worry about living through that trauma again. Her life for yours, it's that easy.

Noah could feel the uncertainty, the fear in Sylar's silence.

"You were right about one thing...... No matter how this goes down, I'll NEVER let you have her. You really think you deserve LOVE after all that you've done!? Villains never get the girl, Gabriel, there is NO happily ever after for you. After you DESTROYED my marriage there's no way in hell I'm just going to let you ride off into your twisted version of a sunset, with that girl, letting you use and abuse her to your black heart's content. I'd rather see her dead, than on your arm."

"You'll never take her from me again, Noah. I'm going to get her back, and when I do...... I'm going to punish you, ohhhh yes, I can make you feel pain that you'd never believe exists. You take away my dream, and I'll introduce you to your nightmare." Sylar felt his blood quicken, the killer within stirring, a slow smirk salaciously working its way across his lips. "The game's not over, it starts with me throwing away the board."

"Listen to you. You love it, don't you?" Noah said, a bit incredulous. "Sylar Gray, The Big Bad Boyfriend."

Sylar smiled, one eyebrow raised, his dark eyes positively sinful." It certainly makes the downtime more fun. So much more....... interactive."

"So you're sleeping with her?"

Sylar chuckled, brushing his thumb along his strong jawline, feeling his heart race at the thought. "Come, Noah, must you be so crass? It's called love-making and no. She's not that kind of girl."

"But you ARE that kind of boy. Don't think I didn't see you with Elle before that second eclipse. If you hadn't already killed her father, he would have killed you."

"Oh you know me, Noah, always plan ahead. Yes, I am, and I'm ready, but she's delicate, and worth waiting for...... besides you know how I love to have my imagination teased. The anticipation........ can be exquisite."

Noah felt his stomach writhe, thoroughly creeped out, and his voice was wildly unenthused. "Well..... lucky her. I suppose third time's a charm."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know EXACTLY what I mean. You're a literal lady killer, first Maya, then Elle, and now your new victim, Lovely Miss Ally."

Sylar rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Maya was a means to an end, and last time I checked still very much alive, I might add. The whole seduction was a ruse, and I didn't even have my powers then."

"Which didn't stop you from putting a bullet in her chest if I remember correctly."

"Insurance. If I hadn't, there would have been no way to know if Mohinder was giving me the right vial. I needed my powers back. And Elle....... Elle was your fault."

"Alright. I'll give you that one."

"Although........ I should thank you, really. If you and Elle hadn't pulled your messed up little stunt, I never would have become Sylar. You created me, Noah, and stopped poor Gabriel from killing himself."

"Like Frankenstein's Monster. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret that. I should have let you hang yourself."

"Oh Elle....... If she hadn't used me, manipulated me, and outright lied to me about my parents, we might have worked. I think of her every time I'm electrocuting the life out of some poor soul......." He flipped his wrist, smiling fondly, and Noah could hear the crackle of blue lightning. "Oh yes, Elle's parting gift. It's funny...... at first, my little brunette seemed too good to be true as well. I threw her against the wall because I thought she was working for you. Fool me twice......"

"If I could have possibly known the hold she'd have on you, the unsettling fascination you'd have for her, she would be. Honestly, I imagined your taste in women much more malevolent. Nobody thinks the serial killer's going to fall for the girl scout. It sounds like a bad slasher flick. But then again..... what is it you call yourself? Sylar, The Great Defiler?"

"A lot of people call me that."

"No, it's just you. You make them good girls go bad, huh? Or is it opposites attract and all that?"

"Who says it can't be both? I just find it so sexy that the same girl and boy that always stayed in, unnoticed, unimportant, and spent every single night of their lives alone, are now the two most powerful beings in this world. Just warms ya up, doesn't it? I own the night now, Noah. And I own Ally.

"Not right now, you don't. You may have her fooled, with your tortured soul, misunderstood, all-I-need-is-love act, but as usual I see right through you. She's nothing but your next casualty. She belongs to The Company now, where her powers can be used for good, and not shielding worthless scum like you.

"Before you get too excited, Noah, about using her and get these grand delusions of invincible armies, allow me to enlighten you. "It won't work if you try to force her. She has to do it willingly. She has to want to do it. And she only has enough power to surround one person at a time."

"How the hell did you get her to do it for you that first time, then?"

"Hmmm.....It's killing you isn't it? I can't decide if it was my sexy eyebrows or my annihilating smile that convinced her. Huh. Probably both. You see, she has a thing for bad boys. And as it so happens, I have a thing for good girls. Especially when they have that little something extra y'know?

"Or much more likely, she showed you out of pure desperation so that you wouldn't kill her that first encounter. That's one to tell the grandkids."

"Yeah," Sylar smiled softly, remembering. She'd been so brave and instantly drawn to him, so willing and gentle. "That too...... God she's so clever. The moment she touched my chest, and I felt that inexplicable power pulsing through my veins, what can I say? She had me.

"And her little spell lasts about two hours doesn't it?"

Noah heard Sylar go dangerously silent on the other line. His breathing getting quiet, deadly.

"Yeah, that's right, I know about that too. Two hours, and it's been, what do you think, at least nine since your last power up?"

"Isn't that fortunate?" Sylar practically hissed, his snarky tone turning again cold and vicious. "You might actually have a fighting chance..... for once, Noah. Or at least a few hours longer than you deserve to live....... Well, it's been swell chatting, Bennet, but I'm bored. This is your last chance. Are you going to give me what's mine, or do we get to do this the fun way?

"You don't even know where I am, Gabriel. You'll never find her."

"I don't? You sure about that, Noah?"

A loud bang came from inside the closet and Sylar twitched like a predator that hadn't yet been fed.

"I know when you're bluffing, and I know when you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"Fun way it is. It's a good night to die, Noah. See ya in a few."

Sylar hung up, and Noah slowly lowered his phone. "Yes, Gabriel, it is."

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

[daryls-dixon-antoni]

Chapter 27.) Knots Untie : Part 1

Rick, Daryl, Carl, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Abraham, Sev and I are sat around a table with the man Daryl and Rick brought back last night. Well most of us are, Daryl is standing and glaring at the stranger.

The man is thin, lanky looking, with long brown hair and a neat brown beard to match. Apparently the man calls himself Jesus, and in looks it's pretty fitting.

"So," Rick asks. "How'd you get out?"

"One guard can't cover two exits or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?" Jesus replies, whimsically.

"Right," scoffs Daryl.

"I checked out your arsenal. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well-equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. 54?"

"More than that," corrects Maggie.

"Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

"Yeah, she ain't here." Snaps Daryl.

"Look, we got off to a bad start. But we're on the same side: the living side. You and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and both of you looked like trouble. I was wrong. You're good people. And this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other."

"Do you have food?" Glenn asks.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

"Tell us why we should believe you," Rick demands.

"I'll show you. If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait, you're looking for more settlements. You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

"Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger," Jesus sits back and smiles.

"You ain't comin' with," Daryl seethes, glaring at me.

I roll my eyes, "Daryl, Denise gave me the clear. Maggie's going, and so am I."

"You ain't Maggie."

"No, I'm not. And you are not in charge of me. Sev's staying behind and watching Mason, and I'm going to see this new community. End of us story, not up for discussion."

"Why you gotta keep puttin' yourself in danger?"

I snort, "I'm not the one leaving Alexandria every single day with Rick."

"It ain't the same."

I shake my head, "You know what, fuck off. I don't know why I thought we could actually end up being something. I should have known someone like us being with someone else like us would just end in fight after fight. Well I'm done fighting. When I've had the baby, you can have as much say as you're comfortable with in what happens in her life, but keep your opinions on my life to yourself," I walk past him, about to leave when he speaks, his tone of voice completely different to the argumentative one he'd been using.

"Her?"

I stop, and turn back around, seeing his face has softened. "I don't know for sure, but when I dream about her, she's a little girl... I wasn't wrong about my last three, so I don't think I'm wrong this time. But you never know, could be a boy," I shrug.

"You dream 'bout her?"

I nod, "Yeah. Whenever I've been pregnant I always dream about the baby. Scared the shit out of me when I was carrying Mason... don't know if I was more scared when I'd only just had him and started dreaming of another little boy... and then I dreamed of Tonia and was thrilled... when I started dreaming about this one... well I'd kind of hoped I was dreaming of Tonia again... but Tonia was blonde..." I sigh, then think of Mason's words from the day before and ask softly, "Mason wants to know if he can name her... or him. I told him it was up to you."

"Why me?" He grunts.

"Because she's your kid, too. I named my two boys, never really felt the need to name Tonia... although I did try to talk Tyler down from such a... unique name. At least I got him to change his mind from Rainbow," I chuckle at the memory.

"He got any names thought of?"

I nod, "Hunter for a boy, and Hope for a girl."

"Why Hunter?" He asks.

I shrug, "Don't know. But I really like Hope."

He eyes me for a second, his face showing something almost similar to affection on his face before he mumbles, "I like Hope, too. But if your wrong, mind if I name the boy?"

I smile softly, "Of course you can name your son... hell, if you want you can name her if I'm right. It's completely up to you."

He nods, "Wouldn't mind me naming a kid after my dead beat brother?"

"I may not love the name Meryl, but he meant something to you, so of course you can name our son after him."

He nods once, and then walks past me out the door to go start loading up the truck for our trip.

As we're loading the truck and RV for the trip, I notice Denise walking over to Daryl and can't help myself listening in when she offers him something in a bag.

"Here," she says, as he has his head in the back of the truck. "Homemade oat cake. Complex carbohydrates, omega-3s."

"Nah, I'm good." He responds, glancing back at her. "We're gonna make a pit stop. I'll pick up something then."

"Like rabies?"

"Is this 'cause I tried to get you that stuff?"

He tried getting her some stuff... maybe that's why things have been so weird between us, he's found someone new. I feel a heaviness settling into my chest at the thought.

"Yeah. And you remind me of someone I used to know."

"Well..." he takes it and puts it into his front pants pocket. "I hope it tastes better than it looks. 'Cause it looks like shit."

"Shit's still better than roadkill. Okay, maybe- ...just eat it."

"You okay?" Sev asks me, startling me as they seem to come from nowhere.

I take a deep breath, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Not the happiest that Daryl seems to have moved on so quickly... but hey, good for him."

"With Denise?"

"What about Denise?" Tera asks, also seeming to come out of nowhere.

"Anne's under the impression she's straight," Sev is obviously laughing at me as they add, "And into Daryl."

Tera also chuckles, "I hope she isn't straight; we've been sharing a bed for weeks now."

I look at her, bewildered, "Really?"

"Yeah... and Daryl's still into you. I mean, he's not happy that you hid a whole entire pregnancy from him, but," she shrugs, "Can you really blame him?"

I'm grateful for the distraction that comes in the form of my son at this exact moment. Mason runs over to me and hugs me, "Come back safe, okay?" He asks, a worried look in his eyes.

"Of course," I respond. "Don't I always?"

"No, you usually come back beat to shit-"

"Language!" I snap.

He shakes his head and continues, "You seem to be coming back worst and worst every time you leave. So please... be careful."

I ruffle his hair, "I'll be fine, stay out of trouble here, okay?"

He nods, "Sure thing. Carl's planning on staying, so I'll just hangout with him, okay?"

I nod, "Listen to Sev, you hear me?"

Sev chuckles, "He always does. You've raised a good kid."

I nod and then add, "And help out with Judith, Sev shouldn't have to do baby duty all on their own, and your old enough now to pull your weight."

He nods, "Okay. I love you."

I pull him into a tight hug, "I love you, too Bug."

"Let's chew up some asphalt!" I hear Abraham yell from the RV's entrance.

"Be good," I say one last time before exchanging a quick hug with Sev before following Daryl onto the RV.

I'm sitting next to Maggie and Glenn and across from Abe. Maggie's napping and I watch with a little envy as Glenn has a hand resting over her stomach.

"Hey," Abe starts, getting both Glenn and I's attention. "Can I ask you two a question?"

"Sure," Glenn says as I nod.

Abe comes closer to us and lowers his voice, "When you were, uh, mixing the Bisquicks, were either of you trying to make pancakes?"

"Uh... yes?" Glenn says, awkwardly.

"Really, because we definitely were not." I say, shocked.

"Oh, okay, um... it's something that we talked about, yeah."

"Yeah," Abe grunts.

"Why?" Glenn asks.

"No, I just... Well... given the precarious state of affairs on any given Sunday. I am damn near floored that you or anyone else would have the cojones to make a call like that."

I lean back, letting myself out of the conversation as Glenn responds.

"I mean, well... we're trying to build something, me and her. All of us."

"For the record, I see rain coming, I'm wearing galoshes. I double up."

I snort, "And I'm sure both Rosita and Sev appreciate that. Or at least Sev does, I know they don't want kids."

Abe smirks at me, and Glenn pulls a face. "Sev helps out with your son. Wouldn't see them minding helping me and Rosita out just the same."

I smile softly, "It's a little different when I'm just her friend, and your her husband. Different dynamics I'd imagine."

I hear the breaks squealing and Daryl ask, "Yo, Rick. What's goin' on?" So I rush up front.

"We got a crash ahead," Rick responds, calmly. "Looks like it just happened."

Jesus straightens up, looking out the windows, "It's one of ours."

We stop and get out of the RV to take a look, the crash is bad, with a few of the dead stuck under and above the vehicle that's on its side.

Rick points his glock at Jesus and warns, "If this is a trick, it won't end well for you."

"My people are in trouble. They don't... we don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"No," Daryl immediately responds, and then points to the road, "We got tracks right here."

We nod and follow his lead.

Rick bangs on the door to the house the tracks lead to.

When no one answers Jesus exclaims, "They gotta be in there."

"We moving in or what?" Abraham asks Rick.

"How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trash can?" Daryl asks, angrily.

"Firecrackers in a what?" I ask, curiously.

"He pulled one over on us before," Rick explains.

"Look, you don't." Jesus sounds genuinely worried.

"I'll vouge for him," I tell Rick, who turns to Jesus.

"We'll get your people. You're staying here with one of us."

"That's the deal," warns Michonne.

"Will you stay?" Glenn asks Maggie.

"Yeah."

"You too," Daryl tries.

"Not a chance," I reply.

"Y'all go," Maggie says. "Just be careful."

"Yeah," Rick replies as he starts handcuffing Jesus. "We're gonna be careful."

"Just hurry," Jesus pleads.

"You hear me whistle, shoot him," orders Rick.

Maggie responds with, "I will."

We start walking in Daryl following right behind me.

As we make it slowly through the building hearing the dead ahead of us, we slowly go forward, Michonne and I taking the lead and taking out the dead.

We hear the whimpering of people hiding so Michonne calls, "Come on out. We're not gonna hurt you. We're friends of Jesus. We're here to get you out." I hear the rest of us splitting off to go find any one else as Rick speaks.

"There more of you?"

"Two more," a short haired woman replies. "They ran ahead."

"Alright, our people will find them." I assure the woman, and as we make our way out we meet the rest of their group as well as ours and get on our way.

When we get back to the RV, Maggie, Glenn and I sit in the back with a scruffy man carrying a bag of medicine. "Name's Harlan, by the way." He introduces himself.

"Antoinette," I greet.

"Maggie," she gestures to Glenn. "That's my husband, Glenn."

"We're bringing back medication, so you may have saved more people than just us back there, Glenn."

"You're a doctor?" Glenn asks.

"Yeah, that's right."

"You have any prenatal vitamins in there?"

Harlan turns to Maggie, "For you?"

Maggie smiles, "Mm-hmm. And her," she gestures her head to me and I give a tight smile.

"Well, uh, I was an obstetrician before, and I most definitely owe you. So, I'd say you three just hit the jackpot."

After a few moments Harlan looks at me, "Any of them up front the father of yours?"

I glance to the front before looking back at Harlan and nodding.

"Which one?"

I sigh, "The uh... rough around the edges one, with the vest."

"You married?" He asks.

"No... and I think we're seperated."

"You think?"

"Daryl's hard to read, sometimes." Maggie offers up.

I notice we've stopped moving so I get up, "Excuse me," I say before passing Glenn and making my way up front to hear Rick say, "A storm must've passed through. We're stuck."

"No worries," Jesus reassures us, "We're here."

We all get out of the RV, to see a fence and Jesus says, "That's us. That's the Hilltop."

We walk towards the fencing on a dirt path.

Suddenly we hear from on top of the fence, "Stop right there."

"Whoa!" Jesus says as my group immediately draws our weapons and points at the gatekeepers, Daryl demanding, "You gonna make us?"

One of the men ask, "Jesus, what the hell is this?"

Jesus has his hands out between us and the gate, "Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt." He turns to us, "Look, sorry about these guys." He turns to the gate people continuing, "They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons," the other gatekeeper dude demands, "Then we'll open the gates."

"Why don't you come down here and get 'em?" Daryl challenges.

"Gentlemen," Harlan says, stepping forward. "Look, we vouch for these people, all right? They saved us out there."

"Lower the spears," Jesus pleads.

"Look," Rick says, sounding tired. "I'm not taking any chances. Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No," Jesus responds. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like you people. I trust you. Trust us." Rick nods and then Jesus turns back to the gate dude, "Open the gates, Cal."

The gates open to show a big red building surrounded by a makeshift farm like area, some trailers on one end.

"Hey, thanks again." Harlan says to Glenn, "Come see me whenever. I'm just over here in the medical trailer, okay? You too, Antoinette." I nod once in his direction as we keep walking.

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby." Jesus explains. "That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne asks.

"That's called Barrington House. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down. Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on. I'll show you inside."

We follow him after exchanging looks. When we go inside my breath catches, its beautiful, it honestly kind if reminds me of the funeral home Daryl and I ended up in and I look at him to see him already looking at me.

"Good gracious, Ignatius." I hear Abraham say under his breath.

Jesus continues on in his tourguide fashion, "Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms."

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick asks.

"We plan to build. There's babies being born." Daryl and I exchange another uneasy look just as some doors open and a balding older man comes through.

"Jesus. You're back. With guests." He sounds phony and I immediately find myself not liking the man, but with no idea as to why.

"Everyone, this is Gregory." Jesus introduces. "He keeps the trains running on time around here."

"I'm the boss," Gregory greets.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community-"

Gregory interrupts him, "Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?"

I find myself edging closer to Daryl, and when our arms graze, we look at one another. I didn't even realize I'd been moving his direction.

"We're fine." Rick states.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready." He goes closer to Rick and whispers loudly, "It's hard to keep this place clean."

"Yeah," Rick says, wearily. "Sure."

"Follow me," Jesus says.

"You clean up first," I hear Rick tell Maggie, "You talk to him."

"Why?" She asks.

"I shouldn't. And you gotta start doing these things."

I find myself in a room with just Abraham, and Daryl. Abraham is sitting in a chair and Daryl is pacing while I find myself looking from the windows to the doors every so often.

"How long do you think Rick and Michonne been ugging bumplies?" Abraham asks, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," Daryl grunts.

"You two ever think about it? Settling down?"

"You think shit's settled?" Daryl asks, gruffly before pacing some more.

"What about you?"

I glance at Abraham and see that he's stood up and is closer to me. "I was settled down... now, I got a kid on the way with a man who can't stand me. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Been thinkin' bout it."

"Your already married, how much more settled does it get?"

"Maybe it's time to focus on building a life with only one lady."

"Sev?"

"Like ya said, Sev don't want any little Abe's runnin' 'round."

I let the conversation die down after that.

When Maggie comes back Jesus tries to fix the situation, he seems to be a peace maker of sorts as he reassures us, "We want to generate trade. Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

"Well, how's that?" Asks Rick.

"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible."

"Yeah, well, we want things, too." Daryl responds.

"We need food," states Rick. "We came all this way, we're gonna get it."

"I will talk to him and we will work this out," Jesus reassures us. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

"We can," Michonne answers.

"Yeah," Rick agrees.

A worried looking man comes in from outside and Gregory comes out of his door asking the man, "What's wrong?"

"They're back," the man responds, and they go outside. After exchanging glances we follow.

"Nathan, what happened to everybody else?" Gregory asks a ponytailed man who looks pissed off. "Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead," the man says angrily.

"Negan?" Gregory asks, and my stomach drops. I look to Daryl and Abraham, but neither seem to react to the name.

"Yeah."

"We had a deal," Gregory says, disgruntled.

"He said it wasn't enough," another man informs Gregory. "Was the drop light?"

"No," Gregory responds.

"They still have Craig," a woman standing infront of the second man says.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you," ponytail guy named Nathan explains.

"So, tell me," Gregory responds.

"I'm sorry," Nathan says, putting a hand on Gregory's shoulder. Than before any of us could predict it, he stabs Gregory in the stomach.

We immediately jump into action, rushing forward and seperating the men.

"Get off of me!" I hear Nathan yell as he fights off Michonne and Rick. "I had to!"

The man in the red shirt starts strangling Abraham and Daryl and I rush over, Daryl breaking the man's arm as I kick the guy square in the face.

That's when I hear Glenn yell, "Hey!

Then Nathan yelling, "Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"

When I look over, Nathan has a knife to Rick's throat, but Michonne has her hands on her Katana as she warns in a low voice, "Drop it."

I then watch Rick stab Nathan in the throat while he's distracted by Michonne.

It's like the whole community goes silent at this.

"What?" Rick asks.

"Nathan!" Red shirt bro yells, "You killed him."

"He tried to kill Gregory, then me."

A woman runs up and punches Rick hard enough for him to fall.

Michonne then runs over and body slams the woman saying, "Don't."

A man with a spear moves towards us yelling, "Drop it now!"

"I don't think I will," Rick responds as he aims his gun at the spear bro.

Jesus runs towards us yelling, "Everyone, this is over! It's over. Nathan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him."

"What can I do?" Rick asks.

"Put the gun away," Jesus responds. "You've done enough." Rick holsters his weapon and Jesus says, "You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

He runs back over to where Gregory is laying bleeding on the ground.

When I glance over to Daryl I see him looking to Abraham who's also still laying on the ground.

"Hey, man." Daryl says.

"Huh?" Abe asks.

"You good?"

"Yeah. I'm better than all right." He then laughs and Daryl and I offer to help him up, which he allows.

[thelastspeecher]

Superhero/villain AU - Flute

I’ve mentioned before that when Flute (aka Ford x Lute) happens in the Superhero/villain AU, it’s kept a secret.  And everyone finds out after Stan walks in on Lute in Ford’s kitchen.  Since the last Superhero/villain AU thing I posted led right to that particular scene, I decided to go ahead and write it.  So here.  Have some gay shit.

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              Ford pulled on his pants, still silently fuming about Stan’s interruption earlier.

              I thought one of the benefits of living alone was that your twin brother would not walk in on you.  But no, Stan just had to get confused about where he lives.  Ford sighed.  Let it go.  Things managed to progress, even with Stan showing up just as it was getting heavy. He heard the front door open.  Lute usually doesn’t leave so soon.  He usually grabs something to eat from the kitchen and chats.  I suppose the interruption upset him-  Ford’s train of thought was cut off by a voice that most definitely was not Lute’s. The blood drained from Ford’s face. He couldn’t make out any individual words, but he would recognize that voice anywhere.  Oh, no.

              Ford grabbed the nearest shirt, threw it on, and sprinted out of his bedroom. As he got closer to the kitchen, the voice became clearer.

              “So, uh, what are you doing, exactly?”

              “Scramblin’ an egg,” Lute’s voice replied.

              “…You went to Ford’s place just to make breakfast?  Dude, it’s like four in the afternoon.”

              “Eggs can be enjoyed any time of day.”  Ford stopped in the kitchen entryway, panting.  Lute looked over, as did the owner of the voice he’d heard, Stan. Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford.

              “Apparently Lute broke into your house to make scrambled eggs.”

              “He didn’t break in,” Ford said, instinctively defending Lute.  Lute’s eyes widened.  Ford stifled a groan.

              That would have been the perfect excuse for why Lute’s here!  And I had to ruin it.

              “That is to say-” Ford started.  Stan looked back and forth between Lute and him, his brow furrowed. “I mean-”  Ford’s mind churned, trying to come up with some sort of explanation that would satisfy his brother.  Stan’s face went slack in realization.  “I-”

              “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!” Stan burst out, startling Lute into dropping his spatula.  Stan clapped a hand to his forehead.  “You two are fucking!”

              “Stanley!” Lute said, aghast.  Ford could feel his face getting redder by the second.  “Don’t be crass!”

              “Yes, and don’t accuse us of that,” Ford said.  “We’re not-”

              “Don’t lie,” Stan snapped.  His hair burst into flames.  Ford took a startled step back.  “I know how this song and dance works.  Or did you forget how Angie and I got together?  I mean, for god’s sake, you guys are wearing each other’s shirts!” Stan gestured at Lute and Ford.

              “That’s why this felt snug,” Ford mumbled, only just now realizing he had grabbed Lute’s flannel.  He looked over at Lute.  Lute seemed to similarly have not noticed until this moment he was wearing Ford’s T-shirt.  He was inspecting the stylized periodic table emblazoned across his chest.  Lute looked back up at Stan.

              “Fine.  You’ve caught us.  We’re dancin’ the goat’s jig,” Lute said.  He waved his hand.  Water flew out of the vase on the dining table and doused Stan’s hair.  Stan scowled.  His hair began to steam.  “No need to twist yourself into a knot over it.”  Smoke curled from Stan’s sleeve.

              “Lute’s right,” Ford said as gently as he could.  “I understand you might be upset we opted not to tell you, but-”

              “Oh, I’m not upset,” Stan said.  Ford blinked in surprise.

              “Really?  Because you seem-”

              “I’m pissed!”

              “That’s a bit misleading-” Ford started.

              “I’m pissed as hell!” Stan continued, ignoring Ford.  “You guys are doing the exact same thing you got on my case for!  Mine and Angie’s!”

              “Angie’s and mine,” Ford mumbled.  Stan’s hair caught fire again.

              “Now’s not the time,” Lute hissed to Ford.

              “Right,” Ford said quietly.

              “Ford, a million times, you told me to rethink my relationship with Angie. You told me I was stupid for dating her. Over and over again!  You said she wasn’t good for me!” Stan shouted.

              “Wait, what?” Lute said.  “You didn’t think Angie was good enough fer Stan?”  Lute crossed his arms, completely ignoring his egg on the stove.  “You don’t think my amazing sister with a doctorate degree is good enough fer yer high school dropout brother?”

              “No!  No, that’s not what I meant at all!” Ford protested, holding up his hands.  “I just meant that Angie and Stan aren’t good for each other.  They aren’t right for each other.”  Ford glared at Stan.  “But I’ve since told Stan that I’ve changed my stance on the subject.”

              “Yeah, and you’re not one to talk, Lute,” Stan snapped.  “Angie told me how you kept telling her to rethink dating me, that she can do better, she should just sue for full rights to the kids. And don’t forget that time you spied on us while we were at the park!”  Stan slammed a fist on the counter.  Lute and Ford winced at the force behind the gesture.  “You two put us through the wringer ‘cause we’re a hero and villain, and now you guys are pulling the same shit?  The same exact shit?”

              “It’s not exactly the same,” Lute said.  “Fer one thing, Ford’s not a hero.”

              “He’s helped out my squad enough, he practically is.”

              “Stan, this is different,” Ford insisted.  Stan glowered.

              “I don’t see how.”

              “Yer bein’ awful immature about this,” Lute said, crossing his arms.

              “What, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”  Stan looked at the stove.  “Your food is too burnt for even me to eat, Lute.”

              “Oh, shoot!”  Lute turned the stove off, frowning at the completely black scrambled eggs in the pan.

              “…I’ve gotta go home.  I’ve got two daughters and a fiancée to take care of,” Stan said after a moment.

              “I’ll see you tomorrow to pick up the girls,” Ford said hesitantly.  Stan paused.

              “Maybe.  Maybe not.”

              “What?  You’re not going to prevent me from babysitting my nieces because of this, are you?” Ford asked.

              “Dunno.  I’ll have to talk to Angie about how both our twin brothers ended up bein’ damn dirty hypocrites.”  Stan sighed. “Look, this wouldn’t be as big a deal if you hadn’t decided to hide it from us.  Or if you hadn’t been so shitty to us when we were first dating.  But you did both those things, and…”  Stan clenched his hands into fists. “…Whatever.  We might take a little while to cool down, so just wait for us to call.  We’ll let you know when we’re ready to talk.”  Stan walked away.  The front door opened and closed.  Lute turned to Ford.

              “How much are ya goin’ to bet they’ll spill to our folks ‘bout our relationship?”

              “Relationship?”  Ford removed Lute’s shirt, frowning.  “I thought you said this wasn’t romantic.  It was just sexual relations.”

              “Uh.  Yeah. That’s what I meant,” Lute said, rubbing the back of his neck.  His cheeks were pink.  Ford fought back the thought that Lute was extraordinarily cute when flustered. “Our, ah, sexual relationship.”

              “Oh.  Okay.” An awkward silence fell.  Ford cleared his throat.  “And to answer your question, I doubt either of them will actually say anything.  Particularly once they’ve cooled off.”

              “Yeah, yer prob’ly right.”  Lute sighed, looking at his burnt snack.  “Well, looks like I oughta make myself a new one.  D’ya want any?”

              “Sure.  Thank you.”

              “No problem.”  Lute pointed his spoon at Ford.  “But in exchange, ya best give me my shirt back.”  Ford smiled weakly, still a bit shaken from Stan’s scolding earlier, but warming up in the face of Lute’s light-hearted banter.

              “Only if you return mine.”