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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia CH 14

Somehow someway you had ended up spending the night in Toby's room. What had started out as sitting next to him turned into laying down next to him. And after a while of no talking or movement, just the steady sounds of breathing. You more or less closed you eyes for a minute.

Before you knew it you were waking up to sun in your face. And found a blanket haphazardly thrown onto you. Though honestly you probably just moved a lot in your sleep. A quick glance around the room tells you you're alone and by the looks of it have been for a little while now. Weirdly there doesn't seem to be a clock in the room and when you go to check your phone the battery is dead.

'Oh God what time is it?' you worry as you gather yourself to leave the room in search of a clock.

Even though you have the strongest suspicion that you're already late for work. Fuck Nate is gonna kill you. You hope you don't get fired for this. That doesn't really seem like the Cowell way but you really don't want to risk it. No where else in town would pay the bills plus give extra cash for doing jack shit.

Just as you closed the door behind you you see Toby and Connor walking up the corridor. Toby has two bowls in hand and his steps falter a bit when he sees you.

“Shit did I wake you up?”

You can see the veins in his arms as he tenses, poor guy must have a tic coming on. You hold your hands out to give him the option of handing them over so he can relax. With no hesitation on his end he does just that.

“No? I don't think so, I just woke up. What time is it?”

Toby's hands jolt in place. A large tremor of movement, thankfully you took the bowls from him so he wouldn't have splashed...cereal? Your confusion must have shown because you get a nervous laugh in response.

“It's like eight twenty or something.” seeing you visibly deflate he adds, “Barry told me to tell you you're excused from work today.” He took a bowl back from you and placed a hand at the small of your back to push you back towards his room. Apparently done with having a conversation in the hallway and letting your breakfast get soggy.

“Barclay.” you remind him, your efforts award you a shrug, “and are you serious? Because making me late for work wouldn't be very funny.”

He plops on his bed and a bit of milk sloshes out of the bowl dropping on to the sheets. In the back of your mind you think about how Barclay more than likely is going to ban Toby from the lodge for anything other than an emergency. At least if he ruins the bed by dropping food all over it...actually you're pretty sure Jake's mentioned there being a rule about eating in the rooms.

“I'm serious, you can go ask him yourself.” his face flushes as he shovels a spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth, “twey shed somfingu bot ah ahpawawgee for da kid”

You give Toby a sneer as you process what he just said. Even normally your brain didn't always process what was said to you properly and Toby speaking with a full mouth certainly didn't help in any case. But you can kind of gleam a bit more context from his red cheeks that your spontaneous three day weekend is thanks in part to Jo hanging out with you yesterday.

Really you didn't mind that she hung out with you. But you would accept the apologetic day off for her attempting to give you a love life. You aren't one of her gossip stories nor do you wish to be.

��First, gross dude. Second, I'll take it.”

He snorts, “Watching me chew through the hole in my face is ne-neat but me talking with my mouth full is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly I never even thought of that.”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at how dumb that must have made you look. Geez you were such a dork sometimes. On the other hand it seems like that must have been the funniest thing Toby's heard in a while as he roars with laughter. Soon your chuckles turn into full blown laughter from Toby's contagious mirth.

“I'll get out of your hair after I finish eating.” you finally say when the two of you calm.

“...you don't have to do that. I-i thought we cou-cou-could hang out?” he says sheepishly.

Toby tends to stutter when he's nervous you notice. Maybe this was to be expected you kind of did solidify that you both wanted to be friends. Of course that would mean opening up to hanging out together on purpose more often.

“I'd like that! Did you have something in mind?”

The room goes quite, well more accurately Toby goes quite as you finish your cereal. Looks like someone hadn't thought this far ahead. At least you aren't the only dork in this room or this friendship for that matter.

Toby's dark eyes scan around the room, not really looking for something while he thinks of something you could do today. Instead of just staring at him like a creep you turn your attention to the rottweiler looking at you with hopeful eyes. Connor's eyes briefly moving towards your bowl where a tiny bit of milk sits and then back at your face. Licking his chops as he looks you dead in the eyes.

Having a pretty good idea of what he wants you look for Toby's bowl. If it was on the ground that'd be a good indication that Connor's allowed a bit of cereal milk if it was on the bed well then you'd still have your answer. And sure enough right next to Connor's butt is an empty bowl.

Yup, Barclay is so gonna ban Toby from the lodge.

Throwing out any thoughts of the lecture you'd get if Barclay were to find out you let a dog eat from his bowls you place the bowl in front of Connor. Who sits in his position and won't stop making eye contact with the bowl. Tail going a mile a minute as he stares at his prize in anticipation. God he really is the best boy in the whole world.

“Thank you Connor.” you whisper to the dog before he attacks the bowl.

As the pup rips into the left over cereal milk, which wasn't even that much, you can't keep yourself from flapping your hands right by your chest. The fast movement seems to catch Toby's attention and brings him out of wracking his brain for ideas. Giving you a moment to just enjoy the happy stim he just watches. It isn't until Connor has bounded over to you letting you pet him as a 'thank you' for giving him a treat, that Toby speaks up.

“Is there...what's there to do here?”

Looking at Toby as you shake Connor's ears around, you don't immediately say anything. Honestly thinking of just what the two of you could do in this small town. Something that wouldn't prove to be too distracting and maybe give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better. Something without too many interruptions or things to get you off topic.

“Wanna go get a slushy?”

Toby's brown eyes cut as he stares at you unimpressed.

“I kno-rrow that we're in a small town but, 's not that small.”

“Oh no it's actually smaller.”

He rolls his eyes with a huff ready to bite in with a snarky remark no doubt until he catches your eyes and the serious expression. He stares at you, eyes darting across your face looking for a sign that you're joking.

Thankfully you aren't one to leave a friend in the dark.

“Tobias, the gas station Tim works at is the only one for this town.”

“That can't be right, it's not even in town. What about...” once again Toby's eyes shift as he tries to think of any other gas stations within Kepler.

When he comes to the conclusion that you are indeed not fucking with him and Kepler does just have the one gas station his shoulders slump. Almost like he's in shock that he hadn't caught that sooner. You can feel the tinkling sensation of a tic coming up, at the base of your neck. Timing it mentally as you watch Toby go through the stages of grief you miscalculate and ruin your tic.

Head jolting into your right shoulder rather than jerking above it. Letting out a small “fuck” at the fact that you're about to be in an uncomfortable sensation, not totally unlike when you chase off a sneeze but still do need to sneeze. You feel the tic at the back of your head but know it won't be going away anytime soon and all thanks to your hubris.

Looking back at Toby you find he's moved on from the single gas station fact and is looking at you mildly amused. Briefly you wonder if he's ever chased off a tic and felt the uncomfortable sensation you're now dealing with. That leads you to ponder if he's ever even felt the anticipation of nerves before a coming tic. It's not really a painful sensation but discomfort sometimes goes in hand with pain so maybe CIPA affects that feeling too. You'll have to ask, but first you have to shut his stupid face up.

“Shut it.”

“Didn't say anything.” he smirks.

His smiles are really growing on you. They feel special and very genuine despite the awkward nature of his facial movements.

“Hey wait, the mini mart doesn't even have a slushy machine.” he says as the realization finally sets in.

“Yea we have to drive to another town for one. So far Franklin has the best slushies but it's like two hours away.”

You lean your weight back onto your hands watching as Toby's wide eyes stare at you in disbelief. Actually in this light you really can't tell if Toby's eyes are blown wide or in their normal state. Judging from the way his lips curl over his teeth you figure they must be as he stares stunned by something you've said.

“Do you seriously drive two hours for a slushy?” the disbelief in his voice is thick, but not thick enough to cover the thinnest hint of amusement. Maybe even pity.

“Not all the time, sometimes its only like thirty. One night I actually drove five hours without realizing it...though to be fair I did get lost.”

Lost in your thoughts on that particular night some how you'd ended up in Point Pleasant. Instead of a slushy you'd gotten a Mothman themed iced coffee. A nice trip over all but one you didn't want to go on at the moment.

Coming back to the present in time to catch Toby flopping back on the mattress his curls bouncing up over his face as he did so. He let's out an exaggerated groan.

“Still, Brian's got the car today.”

Pfft that's not an issue.

“I have a car.” you say plainly.

That must not be the issue because Toby raises himself onto his elbows to look at your lax form on the carpet. Leaning back on your hands with Connor splayed across your lap looking ready for a nap. Toby opens his mouth to say something before shutting it and looking off to the side. He seems to collect himself quickly but not enough to look at you.

“Uh..I, that's not really the...” well maybe he hadn't collected himself that much.

Brow furrowing as you squint at the man before you. The two of you don't know a lot about each other but from what you've noticed Toby has some hang ups about drivers and driving. Although he's let you drive him home once that doesn't mean he was comfortable with it or wanted a repeat performance. And while you don't consider yourself a bad driver you'll spare Toby the difficulty of admitting he isn't comfortable with you driving.

“You can drive.” dark brown eyes are on you the instant the words spill from your lips, “You've driven my car before. Plus I don't mind I like not driving.”

His eyes dart from you to Connor and back up into your face. Even though they're darting slightly you know he isn't such evaluating your expression. He's thinking and weighing his options.

“You sure?”

And with no hesitation at all, “Absolutely, you've driven it before.”

Though he hadn't been thinking of that particular issue with being given the choice of driving your car. It did bring up another insecurity before hastily stomping it into the ground. He has driven your car, albeit once, before and you are giving him explicit consent to drive it again. Regardless of his tourette's, Toby honestly can't believe you have such blind faith in a person you've just befriended. Then again that's friendship isn't it.

“Ok then...let's go?”

After a nod from you Toby grabs Connor's gear to get him ready for the drive. Meanwhile you take the dishes back downstairs to the kitchen, letting Toby know you'd meet him by the door. Unsurprisingly Barclay is in the kitchen when you get down there to place the bowls into the sink.

Seeing as it's just the bowls and spoons in the sink you decide you can wash them before placing them in the sanitizer rack.

“Mornin'.”

“Good morning.”

“Basket's on the table.”

“Thanks.”

A quiet settles over you two and you can feel Barclay's brown eyes trail towards your form every few seconds. Finishing the dishes you turn, leaning your butt onto the counter, to face the lumbering man.

“Can I help you?” you raise a brow at him. Clearly he had something more he wanted to say.

“I, I just thought we were closer than that.” he sighs.

Okay what now? Your confusion goes ignored as he continues to speak.

“Seriously YN, you didn't need to sneak away last night if you wanted to spend the night here, and with your boyfriend. I wouldn't have judged.”

“My who? Tobais? He's a friend!” you whisper scream in case Toby is near by. God could at least save one of you this embarrassment.

“Really YN? From the things I'm hearin' you two are a bit more than friends.”

“Ok seriously where are you getting your info from? We haven't done anything. Like just YESTERDAY we agreed we were friends. We've known each other maybe a month?!”

“See that's why this is confusing, you don't touch just anyone. And suddenly you're handsy with some new kid.” Barclay had the decency to start whisper screaming with you. He's gesturing vaguely towards the rest of the lodge before bringing his hands before him and flailing them away. As if to say 'what am I supposed to do with this now?'

“He's neurodivergent!” you say bringing your palms up in front of you.

“So are Jake and Aubrey.”

“And I high five Jake so much.” throwing your arms outward to indicate how much you two high five. “Plus he gets a hug nearly every time I see him.” hands brought back to emphasis this point.

Barclay thinks on that for a bit, “Point taken,” he stands from his hunched position and crosses his arms over his chest, “so y'all aren't dating? Nothin' happened last night?”

“No and no.”

“Don't have to deep clean the sheets today.”

“Gross and no.” best keep the milk droplets out of this, you'd really like to leave the kitchen sooner rather than later. Preferably with no lecture about hygiene and the importance of respecting other's property.

Barclay looks down at you scanning your face for something you aren't quite sure of. But you have a feeling he's treating you like a child for a very specific reason.

“I'm not a virgin.” you deadpan as the man before starts to sputter.

His eyes wide with disbelief. So he really thought you were a virgin this whole time? You wonder who else thought this, you hoped they wouldn't try to confront you about your nonexistent relationship.

You'll just never understand why people assume you're a virgin and why they try their hardest to butt into your life when they think that way. This topic tends to put you in a sour mood and you can already feel it on your face. It's disgusting how people can't mind their business about baseless assumptions.

“Jeez sorry YN,” he does look it as he rubs the back of his neck, “it's just you've never shown an interest and I guess we all got swept up in the possibility of seeing you happy.”

“I am happy?”

“I mean in a relationship, happy in a romantic relationship.” He claps his hands gently on your shoulders. A touch you've gotten used too, had you not wanted it you would've taken a step back.

“Kirby's not in a relationship.” you point out.

“Kirby's gross, and you're adorable.” he chuckles at your glare, “a-dor-a-ble.”

“I will bite you.” he lets go of you with a laugh.

“We're just...trying to keep you safe.” he sighs, and though you don't understand what any of their weirdness has to do with “keeping you safe” you nod. Just to get this over with faster.

“Can I leave now? Tobais and I were gonna get slushies.” he didn't need to know your plans but you didn't want him assuming you two were sneaking off for a date.

“Yea yea, sorry for keeping you.” he leans against the counter as you grab your basket and head out of the kitchen and towards the main door.

Toby and Connor were already waiting for you. If the swaying of his weight was anything to go by they'd been waiting for you for a bit. Seeing you coming his subconscious movement stops and he opens the door. Keeping it open for you. You lead him over to your Soul as you look through the basket for the keys.

“Keys?” he questions as you pat your pockets.

Toby stops walking with you as you begin to panic. You've lost your keys. Before you voice that though you look through the basket once more, placing it on the hood of your car so you can use both hands to check. His eyes follow you and are caught by a gentle swaying.

“You are a serial killer's wet dream.”

He opens your passenger side door and comes out holding your keys that had been in the ignition. If the blank look he gives you is anything to go by he's not impressed.

“I,I,I was in a hurry!” you say flustered that you did something so stupid. His expression doesn't change.

“Could you pop the trunk please?” you ask not looking in his direction.

The click of the lock is all you need to hear before you rush around him to place the basket in the back. As you do you catch sight of the deer skull still in your trunk. With everything going on you hadn't been to see Madeleine for a mount for the guy. You'll have to remember to stop by her shop this week.

Toby had already gotten Connor situated in the back by the time you sat down in the passengers seat. After buckling in and plugging your phone in to charge you stare ahead of you waiting for Toby to start driving. When you look over at him you see he's staring right back at you with a brow raised.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Yes the key detail of any road trip, the driver needs to know the destination. Unfortunately for you and Toby you've forgotten to tell him one crucial detail. You drive with no sense of direction. And you relay this to Toby. He looks seconds away from getting out of the car and claiming he's never seen you before much less ever been friends with you.

He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

“Y'know what Brian's worse with directions.” he says more to himself than to you.

He calmly puts the car in gear and heads off to town. No input from Connor, you may have chosen a really good day for this drive. Your phone hits one percent as you pass Resort Row. You know the Hornet's Nest is coming up and that intersection leads to the interstate despite not having legible signs.

“Hey when you get to the Hornet's Nest swing right then drive straight, we'll end up on route 3 onto the interstate.”

“Hornets' nest?”

“It's a skate/stunt park. You'll see it after we get away from the mountain.”

Just as you said Toby saw the Hornet's Nest as he turned onto the road leaving the mountain. By the time you were on route 3 your phone had charged up to seven percent. Enough to turn it on and put on a playlist. You put on one of your sea shanty and folk punk combos.

Toby hasn't even let the song get thirty seconds under way. “No vetoed, we are not listening to sea shanties.”

So he does have music preferences, fair enough. You switch to a playlist with a more chilled electric vibe that has a few oldies tossed into the mix. Toby hasn't heard this playlist before and you are determined to learn his music tastes today.

“Wait wait wait, so you'll listen to folk punk but not sea shanties?”

“How are those even related?”

“They are literally the same thing.”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth about how similar, or different, shanties and folk punk are. Occasionally it's broken when you read a sign, noticing Toby's horrible squinting, to see if you're on the right route to...well you don't know the destination Toby's been ignoring most of the exits for the past forty minutes though you're sure you two could find a gas station with a slushy machine at any one of the surrounding towns.

You don't mind though you're really enjoying the ride. The soft sounds of the car cutting through the wind at seventy three miles an hour. And the dull hum from the engine falling into the background as They Might Be Giants plays softly through the radio. With a majority of his focus being directed to the road and the handful of other cars around you, your conversation is limited to topics that don't require much thinking. Really you've just ended up playing twenty questions with the other pulling uno reverse.

Not life altering secrets or deep talks...well until the question was favorite romantic comedy.

“How is Venom a romantic comedy?” Toby laughs after you answer.

“They kiss!” Toby just snorts.

“No Venom in Anne's body kisses Eddie.”

“Yes Venom kissed Eddie. Romance.”

You hear the murmur of 'oh my fucking God' come from Toby as you giggle in your seat. Having been egged on by that simple phrase you continue.

“Eddie is always giving Venom chocolates.”

“Oh yes, sorry, that's very romance.” Toby laughs out rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, I'm glad I could enlighten...” you pause as a sign for the next exit catches your eye. Had you two already driven two hours? Time really does fly when you're having fun. “Hey next exit, Franklin.”

“Thanks got it.” this time he turns on the blinker to get over into the exiting lane.

“What gas station am I looking for?” smart man. He's stopped asking for specific directions and is now asking for a land marker.

“Giant baby.” the car comes to a stop at a red light and Toby takes his eyes off the road to face you.

“...is this...will I just know when I see it.” “When you see it” you say the last part in unison with him nodding solemnly.

To his credit Toby has gone a long way with your weird antics, despite being your official friend for less than a full day. Keeping up with this pattern he doesn't ask anymore questions about this giant baby, keeping his eyes peeled for anything worthy of that title. His valent efforts are rewarded not even ten blocks from the turnpike.

“Is that...”

“Giant baby.” you nod knowing he sees the giant opposum decal in the window of the beat up gas station.

Opening your glove box you remove a spare mask for yourself before offering a sealed in package one for Toby. Who readily takes it after he parks your car in front of the store. Turning to look at you, you can read all the skepticism on his face. It's funny how this is where he questions you, your destination and not like the way over here-or the moment right after you told him you had no sense of direction.

“They have the four divide mega slush.”

“What the hell is that?”

With a coy smile you put on your mask and exit the car waiting at the front for your friend to get his shit together. He doesn't take long to follow you, Connor's lead in hand, into the gas station.

For as dingy and beat up as it looks on the outside it isn't bad once you step inside. Might actually be cleaner than the mini mart in Kelper. Toby glances around taking a mental tally of all the patrons in the store and their positions. He does this a bit. Just hyper aware of everyone when in enclosed spaces.

Dragging him over to the slushy machine after acknowledging the cashier's greeting. Showing him the four divider mega slush cup you demonstrate how it works. Choosing the only three flavors you like and adding a random extra of the three into the forth slot.

The face he makes when you stick the straw in the middle is priceless.

Toby demonstrates how a slushy should be made. Grabbing the single cup and over filling it with cherry flavored ice. He doesn't pick up a straw and you two make your way to the counter.

Since Toby drove here you had no problem paying but he was quicker to get his wallet out and hand the cashier a ten for your slushies. They give him back his change and you two wind up back in the car, taking off your masks.

You take a long sip from you drink.

“I can't believe we drove for two hours for you to just wreck your taste buds.” a playful disdain in his voice.

“Not 'we', you.”

He cuts his eyes at you before shaking his slushy into his open mouth. Guess he couldn't use a straw when he was missing part of his cheek. No suction there.

“So?” you say adding the questioning lilt to your voice.

He shrugs, “It's good.”

“Worth the drive?” He shakes his head.

“Nah - drive made it worth it.”

#Timothy Wright #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic #a cure for insomnia #masky x reader

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tiffyfoundsomething · 3 years ago

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Revisit

I’m still very happy with my Chulux single-cup coffee maker. Still a nice, small, cute, simple alternative to a Keurig.

The blue color happens to be $10 off PLUS there’s a $10 off coupon on top.

Anyway I’m happy with it, though I have noticed less water coming out recently.

We have hard water, so it’s probably time to run a cleaning pod or two.

But also, I do wish it had some sort of water level indicator.

I’m pretty sure I have ADHD (which this is pretty handy for since there’s no risk of leaving a coffee pot on too long or anything like that, just making a coffee and forgetting it or forgetting to take out the used grounds which can get gross, don’t forget to take out your used grounds, and I do still use the refillable cups instead of single-use ones they’re pretty good AND since I had bought a 4-pack I know that if all of the refillable cups are dirty then I do not need any more coffee today thank you), and as soon as I set the measuring cup down, I forget whether I’ve put water in the machine or not.

Is the measuring cup wet because I JUST used it, or from my last cuppa?

The only way to know is to take the coffee cup off the rest again, slosh the whole machine around, and listen.

#coffee #keurig #keurig alternative #affiliate links #product review #adhd

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years ago

Note

As always no pressure but for prompts fluff 4 “OH you’re jealous” sterek?

Stiles would like to say that first of all, he didn’t want to have a job, thank you very much.

But he was a teenage boy and it was his responsibility to be prepared to face the real world. And… and his dad refused to buy him curly fries on the regular. So Stiles got a job.

He had to support his curly fry addiction some way, alright?

Though, being a barista at the Beacon Hill’s favorite cafe ‘the Bean’ really wasn’t that bad. Yeah, sure, sometimes Stiles got customers that made him want to bash his head into the nearest wall, but there were perks too.

Like the tips. The free (not really, but shh) coffee. And the fact that Derek came in every morning to get his daily cup of the most boring drink in the world.

Black coffee.

Stiles didn’t understand why the man didn’t just brew his own coffee at the loft, but Derek was an enigma. He did weird stuff and Stiles had given up long ago trying to figure him out.

Okay, that last part was a lie. But if Derek wanted to spend a dollar a day on crappy black coffee, Stiles wouldn’t judge him for it. Too hard, at least. Plus, he got to see the werewolf’s grumpy face and expressive eyebrows every day.

Stiles found himself looking forward to that far more than he should.

It was a Tuesday morning at eight o’clock when Derek pushed into the coffee shop as usual. Stiles grinned from ear to ear and propped his chin up on his hands, leaning forward.

“Why good morning dearest grumpy-pants,” Stiles said with a grin, winking at him. Derek rolled his eyes and thumbed out his wallet.

“Stiles.”

“The usual, I trust? One pink drink coming right up.”

Derek didn’t look impressed. Stiles grinned.

“Wait, no, my bad. I’ll hit you with a double chocolatey chocolate frappuccino in five minutes, Sourwolf. Just let me grab the extra chocolatey chocolate syrup.”

“Stiles, you’re an idiot.”

“Ah, yes, but I’m the idiot in charge of your drink order. You wouldn’t want me to mess up that fine black coffee you’re so obsessed with, would you? Now tell me, what did you want to order again?”

“You literally just said it.”

“Oh, shit my bad,” Stiles said with a grin. “One low-fat sugar-free vanilla latte coming right up. Wouldn’t want to lose those little werewolfy muscles, would you?”

Derek rolled his eyes and slapped a dollar onto the counter before stalking way. Stiles grinned after him.

“What, no tip? You’re a Scrooge!”

Boyd came out from the back room, wiping his hands on a dishrag. He glanced between Stiles and Derek and then sighed, shaking his head. “Black coffee?”

“No, Derek wanted to try that new drink we just promoted. What is it called again? The unicorn?”

Derek glared at him from over at the waiting counter and Stiles smirked cheekily, wiggling his fingers through the air in a wave. Boyd snorted and moved away, heading toward the coffee machine.

Stiles thought he was no fun.

Boyd pushed a small black coffee into his hands a few moments later and Stiles finished capping it. Like he did every day, he slipped a sleeve around the middle and then pulled a pen out of his back pocket, scrawling his number and a winky face onto the cardboard.

Then, with a bright smile, he carried the coffee over to the counter and deposited it in front of the waiting werewolf.

“One triple shot of expresso, Mr. Hale, just like you ordered.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Really? Because I think I outdid myself today. Give it a taste and tell me how amazing of a chef I am.”

“It’s coffee,” Derek said flatly. “And you didn’t even pour it.”

“See, Derek, this is why rainbows hate you. Can’t you just play along for once and tell me how amazing my black coffee is?”

Derek snorted and plastered a fake smile on his face, shoving a five-dollar bill across the counter before he turned away. “Your black coffee is amazing, Mieczyslaw.”

“Okay,” Stiles called after him, crossing his arms. “Just because you learned how to say my full name doesn’t mean you have the right to use it!”

Derek ignored him, the overhead bell ringing as he pushed out of the shop. Stiles wrinkled his nose and glared at the man’s back.

“Furry asshole.”

“He can still hear you,” Boyd said, brushing past. Stiles grinned.

“I know.”

When Derek came in the next morning, it was eight o’five. Stiles grinned at him and couldn’t resist making a show of checking his non-existent watch.

“My, Sourwolf, did you get caught up in traffic? I thought you’d died or something.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Ah, I can see we’re feeling particularly positive this morning. Tell me, Grumpy Cat, will you be trying something other than black coffee today? I make a mean mocha, or you can go out on a limb and try something even better. Like adding whipped cream.”

Derek gave him a flat look a dropped a dollar onto the counter. Stiles heaved a dramatic sigh and turned away, waving a hand over his shoulder.

“Ya basic, Derek!”

Erica was on shift today and she’d come out with a grin the moment Derek entered the shop. Stiles went to grab a cup but she was there first, picking one up and shooting him a mischievous wink. “I’ve got him today, Batman.”

Stiles squinted at her. “Are you going to poison it?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine,” he said, shrugging. “Just don’t leave behind any evidence.”

Erica’s smirk was wicked as she trailed her fingers over the back of his neck and started toward the coffee machine. Then she completely bypassed it and went for the syrups, grabbing the chocolate, strawberry, and caramel.

Stiles cackled to himself and moved to help the next customer.

When Erica came back over with the small coffee, Stiles thought it smelled like the ice cream aisle at the grocery store had thrown up into a couple of teaspoons of coffee. He still took the cup and capped it, scrawling his number onto the cardboard slip before waltzing over to where Derek was waiting.

The man scrolled idly through his phone, not paying them any attention.

“One fine ass cup of joe for my favorite Alpha werewolf to ever grace Beacon Hills with his eyebrows,” Stiles said. “Should I take my compliments now or wait until after you’ve had a sip?”

Derek rolled his eyes and slapped a five onto the counter again. Stiles pocketed it before the man could take a drink and quickly hurried away. Erica was already out of sight, the traitor.

Stiles didn’t make it into the backroom before Derek was gagging. Despite his best, fastest efforts.

“Stiles, what the hell is this?”

Stiles winced and turned back around. Those in the coffee shop were staring and he put on his best ‘customer service’ smile, moving back over to the counter. “I’m sorry, sir, is everything not to your liking?”

“Stiles, this isn’t even coffee!”

“Sir,” Stiles said, keeping his expression neutrally blank. “If you would like me to make you another cup, I would gladly do it. Of course, the specific instructions you left earlier were a bit hard to follow—”

“All I wanted was a black cup of coffee!”

Stiles did his best to smother his grin. He thought he must have all the self-control in the world because he could hear Erica cackling in the back room. Clearly, Derke could too, because he turned a few different shades of red before growling and turning away.

Stiles watched him stalk out of the coffee shop with a carefully blank expression before sighing and turning away from the customers that stared.

Only when he made it to the back room did he break down into laughter too.

He’d half expected Derek to not come the next morning. But Derek strode through the doors at seven fifty-five on Thursday and Stiles couldn’t resist beaming from ear to ear.

“Sourwolf! You’re here!”

“If you give me anything other than black coffee this morning, I’m going to rip your throat out,” Derek said, flashing his red eyes. Stiles only grinned.

“One calming herbal tea coming right up!”

“Stiles.”

Stiles only chuckled and tipped two fingers to his temple, turning away. Isaac— always the true puppy— was already making Derek’s coffee. The beta rolled his eyes as Stiles tugged on his scarf and scoffed.

“You’re such a suck up, I-sack.”

“Shut up, Stilinski.”

“Gimme,” Stiles said, ignoring him and making grabby hands. Isaac shook his head and shoved the coffee over, nearly sloshing it over the edges.

“And I’m the suck up.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, I’m just making sure you assholes don’t do anything to our majestic alpha’s coffee! I know better than to trust you bastards.”

“Didn’t you put a raw egg in his drink last month?”

Stiles cackled, remembering Derek’s face when he’d opened his cup. Stiles had been locked out of the loft for a week after that occasion, but it’d been worth it. “I made the coffee so hot, the egg had nearly finished cooking.”

“You’re an idiot, Stiles.”

Stiles only grinned and went through the motions; the lid, the slip, and the number. He noticed Derek had been watching his every move. Stiles laughed and deposited the coffee onto the counter with a hum, dropping his chin onto the palms of his hands.

“Alpha, oh my Alpha. Here is your coffee.”

Derek only rolled his eyes and took it, turning away. Stiles squawked and gazed after him.

“What, no tip?”

The man acted like Stiles hadn’t even said a word, pushing back out of the shop. Stiles stared at him for a moment longer and then sighed, turning away. Revenge for yesterday, he had no doubts. Derek was never any fun.

Isaac laughed at his hurt expression; Stiles flipped him the bird.

It wasn’t like he cared.

Stiles was alone on his shift come Friday. The betas all refused to work on the weekend and while Stiles argued that Friday didn’t count as the weekend, they still refused to pick up any shifts.

Derek still came in at eight o’clock sharp that morning. But this time, it was Stiles’s co-worked who went over to take his order.

Stiles was… erm, busy.

There was this Beacon Hills Community College kid who’d been coming in all summer and Stiles was pretty sure he’d taken a shining to him. Because the guy always tipped extra, always stuck around to chat afterward, and always, um, left his number.

Stiles was usually pretty flattered. Except now Derek was looking at him with murder in his eyes.

Stiles chuckled nervously and pushed himself away, walking over to the counter where Derek’s waited. The man frowned and looked over his shoulder, and Stiles could’ve sworn his eyes flickered red. Blinking, his grin slipped and he smacked the man on the shoulder.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

“Who is that?”

“Who is—” Stiles glanced over his shoulder where Mark was quickly making a beeline for the door. Singing heavily, Stiles gazed back at the angry-looking werewolf. “Dude, are you serious right now? He’s human— a college student— not a threat.”

“I know he’s human,” Derek said in a growl. “I can smell his stench from here.”

Stiles blinked. “Um.”

Derek tore his gaze away and glared down at the counter. Stiles’s co-worker came over and slid the man’s black coffee across the counter; missing the slip. But Derek didn’t take it. Stiles stared at him for a moment and then his mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god,” he said, the realization kicking in. “Are you jealous, Derek?”

Grey-green eyes snapped back up. Derek scowled. “No.”

“You are!” Stiles said, his grin returning. “Oh my god, dude, you’re totally jealous! What, am I not allowed to write my number on anyone’s cup except for yours? You never even text me!”

Derek’s eyes flashed. “You gave him your number?”

“No, Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a laugh. Derek’s jaw ticked and Stiles shook his head, looking at the man fondly. “You’re the only Alpha werewolf that I purposefully mess with. I promise.”

“M’ not jealous,” Derek mumbled dropping his gaze again. Stiles chuckled and pulled the pen out of his back pocket, grabbing a cardboard slip and quickly scrawling his number onto his. He grabbed Derek’s coffee and fixed on the slip, before offering it over.

Derek took it with a small smile.

“One expertly done back coffee,” Stiles said with a grin. “Probably because I make do it.”

“Your black coffee is amazing, Mieczyslaw,” Derek said softly. His fingers brushed against Stiles’s own as he took it, and Stiles couldn’t help as his heart did a little flip.

He watched until the man left the coffee shop before deflating into himself and shaking his head. The grin on his face wouldn’t leave.

“Softiewolf,” he murmured. In less than three seconds, his phone buzzed and Stiles dug it out in confusion. Everyone knew he was on a shift.

‘I can still hear you, you know’

- D

Stiles grinned even wider to himself and glanced toward the closed door. His chest felt full; warm.

“I know.”

- -

The soft feelz have gotten away from me and I have no control. Thank you so much for the prompt, wolfile, I had fun!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #prompts #stiles stilinski #derek hale #the hale pack #what a bunch of idiots #i love them

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captainchrisfics · 5 years ago

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Out of Fenway Park

About: A SoCal born-and-raised reader relocated to Boston, where the very last thing she expects is to run into Chris Evans at a Red Sox game with beer dripping down her head and his hotdog plastered to her shirt. Literally, running into him, and then somehow still getting a date out of it.

Word Count: 3,365

Requested By: Anon. Thanks so much for sending this in! Absolutely love this story, thanks for giving me the opportunity to write it. Feel free to send in any other reqs!

P.S. I’m sorry but, as deeply as I love Boston, I’m just a New Yorker, posting a fanfic on the internet, asking you to forgive me for my inability to give the Red Sox the dignity of winning- feat. the best gif I could find of him repping the team

The sun was the only reason I agreed to go to this baseball game anyway and even that had failed me. I was looking forward to sitting back with its warmth washing over my skin so I could close my eyes and try to pretend like I was back on a beach in Southern California. Instead, it was borderline freezing rain and all I could think about was the ground being even muddier with the still melting snow and how I couldn’t tell if there really was rumbling thunder or if it was just the shouts of countless Bostonians surrounding me, cheering on the Red Sox. They were up against the Yankees and even I could tell it wasn’t looking good, but that didn’t dampen their home-team spirits.

My coworkers were maybe the worst of the bunch, drunkenly yelling profanities at the players while they sloshed their beers in agreement with one another’s profane criticisms of the pitcher. I was almost regretting giving up SoCal for a job offer I could hardly dream of fresh out of college with the only downside being that it was on the east coast. Anyone could’ve told you I despised the cold, being too far from the ocean, and the Patriots, maybe not in that order. But even more than that I knew I’d hate myself if I passed up this opportunity. So, without giving more thought than I maybe should’ve, I packed everything I could into three suitcases and a carry-on and moved across the country, hopes probably higher than the plane.

Winter, however, brought me crashing back down to reality. Everything in nature either died or got the right idea to chase the sun south. I was stuck with snowbanks higher than my knees and a proper coat was nowhere in sight. Not that it mattered much anyway, the weather felt like it was freezing my bones to their core no matter what I wore. Initially, I had this glamorous idea of curling up by the window with a blanket on my lap as the fire crackled, holding a book in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other. Hitting the pavement after slipping on ice knocked the ignorantly blissful can-do attitude right out of me the first time. And the second and the third and I lost count after that.

Which is exactly why I agreed to come to this baseball game in the first place. Back home, spring meant warmer days and blooming flowers and short sleeve t-shirts. I thought I’d get to enjoy a little bit of sunlight at the very least, maybe get to finally connect with my coworkers in a meaningful way outside of asking for help to unjam the copy machine. However, the start of the season in this hell hole apparently included a lot more of the lion than the lamb and a rowdy crowd of Red Sox fans who thought it was good enough for shorts anyway and drank like alcoholic fish to top it all off.

A girl I shared the wall of my cubicle with, Alex, wrapped a lazy arm around my shoulders, pulling me too close into her Heineken haze than I was comfortable given the fact that I barely knew her. Plus, being the only sober one was never any fun. I had a feeling they only invited me under the guise of getting to know each other better considering all I’d become familiar with was the smell of their beer burps. After all, being barely of-age and the new kid made me their permanently designated driver, even though we’d taken the T here.

“Know the difference between a Yankee and uh,” Alex paused to laugh at her own joke and let out a hiccup, “a pothole?” She was hanging onto me for support, speaking close enough to my ear that it could’ve been a secret though she was saying it loud enough for the rest of our group to hear over the boom of other fans. “I’d swerve for the hole!”

I chuckled a little to be nice, although I didn’t think it was very funny. Our coworkers to Alex’s right, on the other hand, guffawed as if it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. Preferring their reaction and acting almost in slow motion, she raised her cup in cheers of herself and simultaneously turned to the others, sloshing the frothy drink until it rained down on me.

I shot up out of my seat as the cold beer trickled down my back. Everyone paused, eyes glued to me for my reaction as I tried to maintain my temper. I used my hands like windshield wipers, tossing the liquid on my face to the floor with an angry snap of my wrists. Alex started to profess a slurred apology, but I held up my hand for an extra second or two to compose myself. “It’s...” I paused to suck in another deep breath. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. I’m gonna go clean up.” Before she could offer to help, I whipped around and jumped down the stadium’s stairs two at a time.

My cheeks were hot with embarrassment as I scanned the hall, looking for something resembling a bathroom sign frantically. People were probably busy enough with their own agendas, be it getting back to the game or buying a baseball hat, but I still felt every set of eyes boring into me. So I tried to put my head down and run to the closest restroom until I hit a wall instead.

Literally, it sent me tumbling to the floor until I landed on my ass, melting into a messy puddle of beer mixed with my former self. Contrary to my belief, someone said, “I didn’t see you there.”

My eyes left my hands, where I’d tried to bury my face like an ostrich in the sand, to see a broad man bending down on his knees before me. He had a Red Sox cap pulled low over his face, a thick beard, and a light grey t-shirt with a dark wet patch in the middle of his chest. Must’ve been where we collided. “I’m so sorry,” he continued with the exaggerated o’s and r’s that sound like ah’s, still so wrong to my west coast ears. I spotted an empty disposable food tray in his hand and looked down to see the hotdog it’d previously housed glued to my stomach by its condiments. Exactly what I needed.

“Are you alright?” He extended a hand to help me up, but I couldn’t move. Instead, I just sat sprawled on my butt at Fenway Park, reeking of somebody else’s alcohol, staring at this beautiful stranger. His concerned look turned a little suspicious the longer I sat there without grabbing his hand, my mouth moving like a fish out of water. All I had to say was yes or I am or something, anything really, but I couldn’t even manage a three-letter sentence.

Instead, I peeled his hotdog off of my shirt and returned it to its little white boat. “Oh, uh, thanks I guess. Or sorry, I mean.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat before extending his hand again. “Is there anything I could do to… help?” His eyes scanned me again as if he were sizing me up, making me even more self-aware of the awful state I was in.

“Bathroom,” I blurted out as my mind caught up, barely able to rip my eyes from his biceps. He stitched his eyebrows together, back to confusion again, though I didn’t give him any time to ask questions before I all but snatched his hand and he hoisted me up.

“Nice to meet you, Bathroom. I’m Chris,” he said with a smirk, teasingly shaking my hand. “You didn’t hit your head, right?” He tried to subdue a laugh, but the playful look in his deep blue eyes betrayed him as he reached to brush off my shoulder.

“Very funny,” I shot back with an exaggerated roll of my eyes, betting my smile gave me away. “As in Evans, right? You look too much alike for it to be a coincidence.”

He played with the sunglasses tucked into his shirt’s collar, probably wishing he’d kept them on for the sake of a disguise. Chris only shrugged, claiming he would neither confirm nor deny. I didn’t need him to though, I’d been stuck watching Marvel movies with my brothers long enough to recognize those cheekbones anywhere. “I’m more of an Iron Man fan anyway,” I tried to emphasize my nonchalance in the hopes that I wouldn’t scare him off. “What I meant was I need help finding the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah. Just passed one over there I think…” Chris trailed off as his eyes swept over the stadium, looking with much more of a level-head than I could. He found one almost immediately and laced his fingers between mine so it was more like we were holding hands. In a silly school-girl kind of way it made my cheeks flush, which was awfully embarrassing that, given my condition, holding hands with a cute boy was what had turned me into a tomato. Then he tugged me in the direction he came from and I wasn’t in the position to protest.

There was only so much I could do with thin paper towels, lukewarm water, empty soap dispensers, and a tide stick from a kind woman who took pity on me. Still, I spent a while scrubbing at the mustard and ketchup stains and wringing my stringy hair over the sink. It was long enough that I was more than surprised to see Chris leaning against the wall coolly. One foot was pressed against the wall and his arms were crossed over his chest while he whistled a tune.

“Is that The Little Mermaid?” I asked with a wrinkled nose, sounding more dumbfounded to hear this burly, bearded, lumberjack-looking man all but belting out Under the Sea than I was to see he’d been waiting for me.

Chris only shrugged, a crooked grin softening his features.

“Is that a problem?” He cocked an eyebrow and flexed his arms as he crossed them as if to challenge me. But there was this twinkle in his eye that betrayed his demeanor so all I did was shake my head. I tucked some hair behind my ear as I glanced back at Chris, who looked far too satisfied with himself as he said, “Good thing since I owe you some ice cream.”

Chris started walking away, taking quick steps so long I had to take two for each of his to keep up. I called his name but he ignored me until I grabbed his hand to get his attention, which it certainly did as he squeaked to a halt. He squeezed mine before letting it go, looking at me curiously.

I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I was going to say until it was already tumbling out of my mouth. “If anything I owe you a hotdog,” I muttered, avoiding his stare. Not that I was uncomfortable waltzing off with a stranger in the limelight, which I totally was. Not that my coworkers were waiting for me and would never believe I’d been getting ice cream with Chris Evans, which was also true. Not any of the totally valid reasons to feel a little funny about this whole thing. Instead, I insisted on buying a hotdog for a guy I was sure had more cash sitting in his bank account than I’d ever see.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my lunch had it coming,” Chris insisted with a swipe of his hand, playfully brushing me off. “Your shirt, however, did not deserve that stain.” His pointed finger dropped to the orangey Rorschach test permanently painted just below my chest, getting a laugh from me.

“Here,” Chris said as he untied the hoodie around his waist. I tried to keep my eyes from wandering to his stomach, where his shirt lifted a little higher than it should’ve been allowed, revealing the curve of his chiseled hips and the beginnings of a fuzzy trail dipping below his belt. “Take this to cover that up.” He handed me his sweater covered in pet hair and I slipped it on immediately, hoping it would hide my wild blush for a few seconds at least until I popped out the other side. It smelled like a dog had been curled up to it coupled with an intoxicating cologne I didn’t recognize and crisp air right before it rained.

I thanked him but Chris shrugged and puffed out his bottom lip before resuming his long strides to the concession stand, tugging me behind like luggage. “Plus, the game is already over. I don’t have to watch my boys actually lose. Maybe if you’d been a Yankees fan, I could’ve excused the whole sweeping you off your feet thing... but come to think of it you aren’t repping the Red Sox either.” He side-eyed me suspiciously without pausing until he nearly hit someone else’s back.

“That’s an awfully nice way to put sending me tumbling to the concrete,” I scoffed, skidding to a stop at Chris’s side in line. “And sports culture is just misplaced nationalism if you ask me.” I crossed my arms to emphasize my point when I was met with raised eyebrows and a slack jaw.

“Then what are you doing here exactly?” He asked, keeping one eyebrow perched a little higher than the other. There was something about the way he smiled at me, all genuine and gentle, and this look in his wide eyes. Whatever it was, I felt like I could tell him everything. So I did.

“All I wanted to do was sit in the sun,” I started, completely aware of how much I sounded like a toddler who missed her nap as I launched off into everything as if he’d been the one pulling up to watch my origin story with popcorn in hand. I told him about how much I missed California and how I felt like I hadn’t met anyone here who got me the way my friends did back home. And how much I loved the work I was doing, the way the end of every day left me feeling complete until I left the office, and how I didn’t think I could survive another Nor’easter for it. I spilled my guts along with the can of worms Chris didn’t mean to open as the concession line grew shorter until we were at the front.

He ordered chocolate and vanilla cones, giving me the choice between the two once they were handed over so I thanked him. We walked around the stadium for a while, bumping hips on occasion and crunching on our cones while we chatted about anything and everything except what I’d said earlier. That was until Chris suddenly stopped to sit on a bench, grabbing my hand to take me down with him. He cleared his throat before speaking with more of a serious air to him so I knew to brace myself for what was coming.

“You’re young, yeah?” he asked, shoving his napkins into a nearby bin. I nodded as I sucked what I could out of the bottom of my cone, though I felt like I’d done a lot of growing up lately. “You’ve got a lot of time to figure these things out. Trust me, I know California is nice, but there’s a reason why I keep coming back to Boston.”

I thought about what he’d said for a beat or two, but I’ll be honest, it was difficult sitting next to him. It was awfully cold with the sun tucked far behind the clouds all day so I was grateful that Chris was so warm. Even his hoodie retained his heat, although I still curled up a little deeper into his side than I might’ve if he wasn’t a human radiator. “Mind telling me why?” I asked, popping the last of my ice cream into my mouth.

He shook his head as he said, “Sure, oh man. So many reasons…” I watched as his blue eyes rose as if he could see the sky through the stadium ceiling, the corner of his jaw flexing as it clenched and relaxed as he thought about it. “Other than my family being in Mass, there’s always something to do. We’ve got the best museums and such a rich history, if that’s your sort of thing,” he paused to scratch his beard as he thought a little more.

His blue eyes nearly popped out of his head as another thing occurred to him. “The culture is something else. There’s something really special about a middle finger being a sign of affection to some poor sap giving tours in colonial clothing and everyone joining in to sing Sweet Caroline on the T on the way home from a game,” Chris continued with animated, sweeping waves of his arms, talking with a kind of passion for a town I couldn’t imagine having in my heart. He shook his head as he added, “And the food is great, too. I mean, where else do they have a whole word for cod that isn’t really cod?”

I laughed from the bottom of my stomach, where I expected a heavy pit of anxiety to be sitting at the beginning of a conversation like this. My homesickness and unhappiness here wasn’t something that I told anyone before out of fear of disappointing someone or being unable to admit my failure out loud. Chris was easy to talk to, more than a stranger usually was. Their judgment never really mattered to me, knowing that I’d probably never see them again. It wasn’t like that with him though, it was easier than that. I felt like he didn’t really judge me at all. He only tried to understand, help, and make me smile while he was at it. And I couldn’t deny a part of my heart that hoped I’d see Chris again. Not only again, but a lot.

“The people aren’t too bad either,” he smiled sheepishly, bumping our shoulders together and looking at me through his dark eyelashes in a way that made me feel like the only person here. As if I was the only one he was talking about. Chris took a deep breath that puffed up his chest, one he didn’t release until after his arm was comfortably slung over my shoulders. “Just give the city a shot, I think it’ll surprise you.”

I wanted to tell him it already had, really he had, but instead, I laughed dryly and said, “Hell, this city makes me feel like I need a shot.” I leaned my head on Chris’s shoulder as it shook with his chuckle, looking up at him to see how he rolled his eyes even though they were scrunched by his smile.

“Know what?” he said like he was asking himself with a deep, shaky breath. He shot up from the bench as if he’d been shocked. I obviously didn’t know Chris well, but even I could tell he was nervous as he rubbed his palms dry on his jeans. “Let’s go get a drink then, instill a little Boston pride in you. There’s this great pub down a couple blocks with live music and everything. I mean, if you want to…?” He scratched the back of his head with one hand and extended the other to me with his offer.

When I grabbed it, Chris broke out into a grin that made my stomach feel like I was on a rollercoaster. “I’d love to,” I said with a smile that barely held a flame to his. Neither of us made an effort to let go so Chris tugged me toward Fenway’s exit. As we left, I heard tens of thousands of Red Sox fans sigh like deflated balloons before the screams of just as many obscenities broke out. Probably another point for their opponents, but it certainly didn’t make me feel like I’d hit anything short of a home run.

Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012 , @spilledinkindumpster

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years ago

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Ectober Day 12: Familiar - Legless On Maim Chap. 2: Tails And Tales

Danny’s body is doing something strange, yet again, and Lewis has seen some weird shit, apparently.

Danny lays there, blinking at the ceiling. He’s too ectoplasmicly exhausted to even float, yet he keeps having to force his ectoenergy out of his eyes. And he knows that if he could actually see his arms, his veins would be glowing slightly. Feeling it sloshing under his skin and thrumming in his ears, making him twitch and wiggle a bit. Grumbling to himself incoherently; he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t need to be here. And yet he was here. Wrapped up like a mummy, being treated like fragil glass, and missing his damn legs. Which was honestly more common place than was strictly normal. Except that was Phantom, not Fenton. And definitely not in a damn hospital. It was stupid, it wasn’t even like this was the worst he’s ever been hurt! Okay, it was up there. But he wasn’t on the verge of being destroyed!

Danny’s mental musings get cut off as Lewis sticks his head in the door and slides inside. “Ah, so you are still awake”, walking over and shaking a bottle of sleeping pills, “can you take these? Or something else to help with sleep. Because you do need to sleep”.

Danny watches him detach the medicine drip, clearly Jazz did talk to him. Danny chuckles slightly, “either you’re really good at rolling with the punches or you deal with weird often. Technically I can, but they aren’t as effective. Have-ta dump the whole thing down my throat to nap”.

Lewis looks at the bottle and shrugs, Danny must know his body better than anyone else. Speaking as he puts the bottle on the side table, “I wouldn’t recommend it, but it’s your prerogative”, smiling slightly as he sits down in a chair, “a kid with a mini sun, which is apparently a bunch of ectoplasm, in his chest is only the third strangest thing I’ve seen. So yeah, pretty used to weird”.

Danny breathes out, “you saw it”, before shaking his head slightly, he couldn’t help but be very curious over what his core looked like, “I think it’s more like a cool little star, what’d it look like?”.

Lewis traces a little circle on his own chest, “about yeh big, blueish white, and very bright and glowing. But it didn’t seem to be harming you and it didn’t get in the way of my work, so it’s hardly an issue”, chuckling to himself, “did make me tempted to put on sunglasses though”.

Danny can’t help but laugh at that, “Be blinded by my glory!”, sighing slightly but being a little more serious, “but, um, since you know it’s there. Which, like, obviously keep that to yourself. Was it cold? Maybe making your tools a little frosty? Since I know you were rooting around in my chest”.

Lewis tilts his head, there had been a very slight chill to it when he tried to touch it but that was it. Shaking his head, “it was definitely colder than the rest of you, but that’s it. Why?”.

Danny frowns, “I must have been using up a lot of ectoenergy then”, wiggling a bit, “you know how healthy hearts have a certain look to them? Core’s the same. It should be really bright and really cold. Anything that got really close shoulda frosted over”.

Lewis frowns, so Danny had yet another injury. But one Lewis firmly knew nothing about. At least he has a name for the ball of energy organ, “is there anyway to check it over? Without opening you up like a resealable can. And what about healing it? Also, shouldn’t it also be freezing your organs and bones then?”.

Danny chuckles, reminded of OverGrowth, “it probably does. Sometimes frost forms on my skin or my breath has ice crystals in it. It almost froze me into a popsicle once”, shuffling a bit alwardly and deciding he should just tell the guy this. He was an okay guy it seemed, and very focused on helping or protecting people. He could relate, and Danny’d be pretty bothered if someone he was trying to help misheld information, “see, if I don’t use up the ectoplasm it generates, it’ll just progressively make me colder till it’s just too much”.

Lewis blinks, but didn’t Jasmine say it was actively overproducing ectoplasm? Glancing at the, now detached, medicine bag, “can you use it up here? Because your sister said the medicine was making you produce more. And while you’re pretty chill, I’d rather that not become too literal”.

Danny blinks and snorts, “okay I would facepalm right but y’know. There’s more than one kind of ectoplasm. The kind in my veins, the one being overproduced, is basic general ectoplasm. The second kind I have stays in my Core, Core ectoplasm. Creative names, I know. But that’s the kind that’ll freeze me into an Dannysicle if it builds up”, shuffling and looking around some, “but yeah I can expel it just fine right now. Don’t need to though”.

Lewis nods, “that’s good then”, frowning slightly, or maybe it wasn’t actually good, “is that because your Core is weakened though?”.

Danny frowns, “yeah. It’s been converting Core ectoplasm to a surplus of regular ectoplasm. Only reason I’m alive though. Give me a sec, I can check on it myself”.

Lewis smiles, well that’s convenient and familiar. “Running self diagnostics? I could do with more patients being able to do that effectively”.

Danny just smirks with his eyes closed. Mentally and telekinetically poking around his Core, moving the ectoplasm some, and trying to not make it look as exhausting as it currently was. Thankfully it was fine, just over worked. The medicine is definitely attempting to attack it though. Blinking a few times, “well the medicine is trying to harm it but it’s fine. Weak and over worked, but not damaged. More of a strained muscle than a torn muscle. Once the medications out of my system, I’ll be okay in a few hours or something”.

Lewis, meanwhile, had taken the time to check over Danny’s readings and was actively frowning at his ECG. Danny’s heart rate had dropped, and considering that it had already been beyond concerningly slow. Looking at Danny as he had spoken. Well at least he didn’t have any serious injury to this ‘core’. Looking back to the ECG, “well at least one part of you doesn’t need treatment. But-”, pointing at the machine, Danny’s eyes following him, “-is this normal?”.

Danny sighs and shakes his head, “it’s because there’s more ectoplasm in my system. It’s thicker so it’s harder for my heart to help pump. So my Core’s doing more of the work. It’ll probably keep dropping till my levels start going back to normal”.

See Lewis thinks that’s kind of a problem. How is he supposed to know if Danny’s heart is actually in trouble? “How far can it drop? Safely?”.

Danny worries his lip and shifts around some. Having to blink away his ectoenergy a couple of times, “I, um, well, my heart and Core can completely do each others jobs; in a pinch. I’ve, well, survived without my heart working at all for just over half an hour”,

Lewis is definitely impressed by that. Though he’s officially more interested in how Danny’s eyes had been green and lit up the room. It was arguably eerie and he clearly knew he did it. What with the blinking. “Guess I just wont worry then. Though I’m guessing you can’t survive with only one indefinitely. Your sister said as much. Nice eyes by the way”.

Danny coughs, annoyed that Lewis actually notices things, “too much ectoplasm running around for it to go unnoticed”, shrugging, “ectoplasm shows through easiest in the eyes. Windows to the soul, or ghost really, for a reason. And yeah, I need both. My Core can pump and oxygenate my blood but it can’t really clean it. My heart can’t produce ectoplasm. Technically I could just use dialysis or start eating ectoplasm. But...”.

Lewis laughs, nodding, “there’s ways around everything. But yeah no, why remove it, either one, for no real reason”.

Danny scoffs, “Core’s are ghostly. That’s reason enough to hunters”.

“I don’t think you’re giving your parents enough credit there”.

Danny just rolls his eyes with a sigh. He didn’t really think they’d take it out of him but the worry was still there. Huffing, “well still don’t tell them”.

Lewis shrugs, “it’s not my business what secrets people keep. So long as it doesn’t become medically necessary that I tell them, of course. You are a minor, I really do have to pass things by them. And they are my friends, of which I don’t have a lot”.

Danny sighs, he understands of course. “At least run it by me first?”.

Lewis nods as Danny’s eyes turn green and glowy again. Watching Danny shake his head aggressively and blink to make it go away. “In that case, you’re going to have to be honest with me about your health. All of it. Even if it’s something I don’t know”, shrugging, “only if it’s relevant though”.

Danny scoffs, literally no one got complete honesty from him over his health. But technically that wasn’t what he was asking. Just relevant honesty. Like his problem with medicine. Plus he didn’t actually need medical attention in truth. If he let himself heal he could go home in an hour, healthy as a whistle outside of the excess ectoplasm. Well, and the damn legs. Sighing and glaring at the ceiling, “fine”.

Lewis smirks and rubs Danny’s good shoulder lightly, before picking up the sleeping pill bottle and shaking it, “do you actually want these?”.

Danny grunts though speaking with slight humour, “I haven’t slept in three days. What do you think?”.

Lewis isn’t sure if he’s serious about that but pops open the bottle anyway. Letting Danny grab it with his teeth, technically Lewis wasn’t supposed to just administer medications directly. Especially ones that hadn’t been approved. But, technically, Danny was the one emptying the bottle into his mouth...with his mouth.

Lewis pockets the bottle as he goes to leave, deciding he really should head home himself, as Danny speaks up, “oh yeah right. I know the paras asked about allergies and my folks said no. That’s not exactly right”.

Lewis immediately turns around to look at him, “see that, that is something I need to know. What?”.

Danny shrugs, “well I really only thought of it because of the whole ‘people give flowers to the injured’ thing. It’s a flower called Blood Blossoms. Looks like a cross between a rose and tulip. Deep red petals with black vines or stems and black leaves. They also glow purple faintly and give off red mist or steam. They react really nasty with ectoplasm”.

Lewis makes a damn point to write that description down, “how nasty are we talking?”.

Danny squints at the memory, “inhaling, ingesting, or touching any part of them will basically make my ectoplasm boil. You’ll notice instantly, because I will start screaming and writhing in pain if they so much as get near me”.

Lewis grimaces, instantly having a flash back to one very particular and rather horrifying incident with the MRI’s, “yeah that sounds really bad. But at least I will know why if it happens this time, not just be left standing and wondering what the Hell’s going on”.

Danny snorts and shifts slightly, “there’s a story there”, rolling his shoulders, “normally I can handle being near or even brushing up against them. But the more ectoplasm in my system, the more they’ll affect me”.

Lewis nods, makes sense, “well obviously tell me if someone does show up with them, I’ll remove them. Or I’m guessing your sister knows. Since she clearly knows more about this than Jack and Maddie. Which yes, is odd. But it’s your life”.

Danny chuckles and nods with a yawn as Lewis leaves. Waiting for a bit before wiggling to be a bit more comfortable and seriously hoping his ectoplasm won’t be running circles in him by the time he wakes up. Or at least it will be doing it at the normal level.

Lewis checks in with the hospital early that morning. Deciding it would probably be best if he’s the one to check up on Danny first thing, not some nurse. Who knows what Danny’s body could have done while he was sleeping, what with the green-eyes thing while he was conscious. Which while more noticeable, eyes that seemingly generate light are pretty darn noticeable, aren’t the strangest eyes he’s seen.

Pushing the door open quietly and smiling at the sleeping Danny. Good, he did get some sleep. Looking over his ECG, glad to see his heart rates up. Still lower than it was when he first got here, so clearly the medications side-affects haven’t worn off fully yet. Plus at least his heart was beating. Really shouldn’t be with taking an entire bottle of Zoloidem. Just another thing on the list of reasons why Danny should be very dead.

Lewis nods curtly and decides to look Danny over. It really was easier when people were asleep. But he doesn’t even get to start as something catches up with his brain as being completely off. Well, okay, normally it wouldn’t be off. Seeing the sheets laid over him having something under them the whole way across the bed. But Danny didn’t have legs. So what the Hell was under the sheets where a fully intact person would have their legs. The shape doesn’t even make sense for legs, which should technically explain it. Except it was also definitely not a pillow and too uniformed to be bunched up sheets.

Lewis cautiously lifts up the corner of the sheets, having developed an ingrained wariness towards looking underthings with concerning shapes underneath them. But hey, at least Danny had the decency to have whatever weirdness underneath something and obviously so. Giving whoever curious peeper fair warning. Instead of, oh say, just leaving assorted bits of viscera in cupboards or under the couch. Promptly tilting his head at what looked like the end of a white snakes tail, raising an eyebrow over remembering Danny’s joke about his tongue not belonging to a snake. Which still made about as much sense as most comments from people walking up from sedation and on a host of pain medications, did. But maybe that joke was related to this? It would make slightly more sense then. Deciding to go for it and just lift the sheet up fully, after checking that the door was very much shut and no one was scheduled to come by. Blinking down at what effectively did look like a long faintly wiggling large snake tail. Just slightly transparent and made out of bandaging? Those two combined didn’t make sense. Add in that Danny definitely did not have a tail, if that’s what this was, yesterday and that it was definitely never wrapped in bandaging. Lewis is pretty darn sure he would remember something like bandaging a tail. Watching as it wiggles and swishes faintly, sometimes at harsh angles or bits seemingly detaching and evaporating in the air; without ever losing mass, which logically did not make sense but he’s also seen that sort of thing before. Danny looked like a really weird Naga, but not even snake bones could move like this and it’s definitely not made of scales or skin. Leaning to get a closer look, it glowed too, and now that he really looks, seems like it’s made of energy that just looks like bandaging. So that’s a check on Danny’s ectoplasm doing something weird. Very very weird. But hey, at least that sort of explains where the ‘bandaging’ came from. Progress and positives, Lewis.

Placing the sheet back over him and deciding to check over the more normal, and not at least mildly impossible, body parts. But as soon as he touches Danny’s skin, Danny’s green eyes pop open and he grabs Lewis’s wrist, hard. Breaking his arm cast at the elbow and shoulder, as well as shattering it apart around his hand and wrist, in the process.

The only thing going through Lewis’s head is, ‘well at least it’s my wrist not my throat this time’. While Danny blinks a couple of times before the green becomes blue again and he lets go of Lewis’s wrist, “shit sorry”, Danny chuckles and rubs his neck, not really awake enough to figure out why moving his arm seems like something he shouldn’t be doing, “‘m not a fun person to wake up”, rubbing his eyes and yawning as Lewis just watches him after standing back up right fully. Danny grumbling at him, “you fine though? Didn’t hurt you?”.

Lewis looks over his wrist quickly, definitely going to bruise but otherwise, “its fine, that’s one serious grip you’ve got there”, deciding against commenting on just how easy it was to accidentally wake Danny, especially when he had rather recently taken an inordinate amount of medication that explicitly impairs someone’s ability to wake up. Instead eyeing the, should still be broken badly, arm as Danny goes to stretch, only to pause and blink. Looking down at his other, still securely secured, arm and muttering, “oh damn right”, looks to the arm, that he absolutely should not be moving around, and chuckling awkwardly, “whoops”. Looking up to Lewis, “I’m guessing you want an explanation for this”, as he shrugs and just stretches out.

Lewis shrugs, “well it makes sense your muscles might be different, having ectoplasm in them. Besides, the last abnormally strong patient almost killed me, so this is a positive step up really”. But there is definitely something he does want an answer to, as he watches the ‘tail’ curl out from under the sheets slightly as Danny attempts at stretching. Which honestly just looks like wiggling, though Lewis now has a gut feeling Danny could break off all the wrappings, casts and bindings. Hopefully he didn’t screw up any of the metal screws, rods, and plates Lewis put in. It was good work, be a shame to mess that up.

Danny blinks at Lewis, “wow, being a doctor is more eventful than I thought”, Danny pauses, screws up his face and wiggles some. Lewis can easily read shock and panic flash across Danny’s face. Before he snaps his head down as far as he can and that ‘tail’s tip pokes up in the air, wiggling slightly.

Danny blinks at the tip of his ghostly tail, the absolute fuck? Not only was it the wrong colour and looked like bandaging not spandex. He can also easily tell he’s not Phantom right now. His tail never comes out on its own as Fenton. It takes and expends too much ectoenergy. But then again, he always had either legs or ghostly tail. So maybe his body just set itself to the one it could do while he was sleeping? Danny looks from it, sliding it back under the sheets, to Lewis; who seems less shocked than Danny does. Meaning either this guy was pretty well impossible to faze or he’d noticed it before Danny had. Chuckling awkwardly, “heh, sooooo...you almost got murdered once?”.

Lewis levels him with an incredibly unimpressed expression, making Danny rub his neck again. Though he looks over his arm and hand, “uh, you should probably fix this before someone notices”. Lewis looks, somehow, more unimpressed; and stares Danny down as he leaves to fetch supplies. Which he only does because the last time he tried to get closer to a patient whose body was doing weird stuff and whose face was giving clear ‘leave me alone to figure out my shit’ signs, he nearly died.

Giving Danny the chance to yank up the sheets and get a good look at his ghostly tail. Wiggling it about and curling it around his hand so he could feel it, slight texture of bandaging instead of spandex, before letting it do its own thing. Watching it wave energetically and clearly in good health. Maybe it was easier to form it without having legs to transform. But how was it forming at all then? Maybe pulling down ectoplasm from the rest of him? Well however it was working, it wasn’t using up large amounts of ectoenergy or ectoplasm, which he definitely still had a little too much of. Glancing at the door before turning his tail intangible and changing it back to legs. Or at least he tries to. Blinking, leaning back into his pillows and wiggling his ghostly tail around, “okay?”, before he screws up his face and starts laughing, wheezing into his hand, “Phantom limbs! Literally! Oh my Ancients!”. Wheezing some more before getting his tail tangible and under the sheets again. Before deciding to just take stock of himself, his arm made it obvious he’d started healing again in his sleep. Likely from there being just too much ectoplasm for his body to hold off anymore. Of course all the cuts and scrapes were gone, there’s still some nasty bruising, breaks were now cracks, he could feel a few partly reformed ribs and organs. But he can’t help but smile over the bandages around his waist being uncomfortably tight, regardless of whether that meant things were regrowing or not, he was happy all the same. Sighing and deciding to try sending away the ghostly tail, it was great to still technically have the limbs, limb?, but Lewis seeing was bad enough. Muttering, “oh damnit, Ancients end me”, as it doesn’t work. Putting his one arm over his face and groaning into it, obviously his body decided it needed to have something there. Well here’s hoping that if he curls it up enough and under him a bit he can hide it.

Lewis clears his throat as he reenters, putting the supplies on the side table and watching as Danny gives him his arm, “okay first, stop abusing your arm. You’re supposed to be healing. Second, you better hope you didn’t damage any of your metal. That’s a pain to fix and I like my work. Third-”, pointing at where Danny’s ‘tail’ is, “-what? I mean, still not the weirdest thing I’ve seen, but what? You know I have to check out your wrappings now right?”. To say Lewis had a lot of questions would be an understatement. Was there even bandaging anymore? What’d the wound look like? How was this attached to Danny? If he had to guess, he’d say the energy, ectoplasm?, it was made of was simply seeping out of Danny’s pores; and it wasn’t like bandaging was completely impermeable.

Danny chuckles awkwardly as Lewis gets to work, “I am healing and, wait what?”, Danny tilts his head, “metal?”.

Lewis looks at him and squints before continuing on redoing Danny’s arm, “yeah. Pretty much all your bones, especially your spine. It’s how we support and hold bone in place. Lots of screws, wires, pins, rods; the whole deal”, smirking, “I like surprising patients after, by sending them through detectors and x-rays. Like I said, I like to play, so I make shapes and designs. If you look at your arms at the right angles, you have matching metal lions”.

Danny blinks for a second before laughing, Lewis notices that it sounds a bit distorted and echoey. Danny chuckles and shakes his head, “you're my kind of doctor. Shoulda done some ghosties”.

Lewis smirks and winks at Danny, making Danny laugh. Before Lewis points at the sheet covered ‘tail’, “maybe should have done snakes”.

Danny chuckles, slightly more awkwardly though, “well, sorry but your art is probably already wrecked”.

Lewis squints at him and sighs, “there is a reason us surgeons put that stuff in there you know, and that will absolutely show up on your follow up x-rays”.

Danny sighs, “and there’s a reason I never get really sick”, shrugging slightly but making sure not to move the arm Lewis is recasting, “ectoplasm is really aggressive towards foreign things. Add in my overproduction issue. I’d be shocked if any of it’s left”.

“One of the medications you were given was made to halt that kind of reaction, bodies usually aren’t too happy about having metal shoved in them. But I’m guessing that kind of medication doesn’t work with ectoplasm? Still though, it’s titanium not low grade steel. I have standards”.

Danny smirks, “oh I hope you have standards for what you stick in my perfectly strange body”, chuckling and glancing at the door quickly, “but you’ve obviously noticed my parents jumpsuits yeah? There’s a reason for those. They are specially made to handle long term and frequent contact with ectoplasm. Because ectoplasm will literally eat everything. It’s incredibly corrosive and acidic. Could even call it radioactive. Technically the terms ectoplasmic. So anything, titanium included, with prolonged exposure to ectoplasm that doesn’t have an anti-ecto coating will absolutely dissolve”.

Lewis is officially rather confused. Shouldn’t that have made handling his internals and blood dangerous? What about all the samples? How is this not actively killing Danny? And now he’s got the image of green ectoplasm with a bunch of very particular toothy faces eating all the metal bits, which is more than a little odd. Shaking his head and finishing up Danny’s arm before asking, “so why are you fine then? And you know, your scraps were just put in the regular biohazard”.

Danny glances at his chest, “My ectoplasm doesn’t recognise the rest of me as foreign. It’s ‘cause of some DNA matching up thingy. And at this point I wouldn’t worry about my ‘scraps’, ectoplasm evaporates after a bit. It’s constantly shedding off ectoenergy actually. Absorbing that shredded off ectoplasm is how people normally get ecto-contaminated”.

Lewis nods, made sense and really was like it was radioactive then. But obviously it wasn’t too serious, since it was clearly safe to be around Danny. But speaking of shedding gets him thinking back on the ‘tail’, it had indeed looked like it was shedding off and evaporating bits of itself. So clearly his ectoplasm could indeed form outside of him somehow. If it was sentient that would make sense, really wouldn’t even be weird, but it doesn’t seem to be sentient. Tilting his head, well actually, Jazz did say that ectoplasm could act as brain waves, so maybe Danny could control and feel it all like it was muscle and skin. Humming slightly before pointing at Danny’s ‘tail’ again, “pretty sure your ‘tail’ was shedding like that earlier. And it looks to be made of energy as well. Ectoplasm I’m guessing. How’s it forming outside of your body? You must have some level of control over it?”.

Danny blushes and coils his tail up some, “heh, yeah. More or less anyway. Ectoplasm’s kind of complicated. See all ghosts have in their bodies is ectoplasm. So ectoplasm is pretty much everything. Blood, organs, bones, skin, brain. Everything. Very useful and helpful”, poking the tip of his tail out and wiggling it some, “I’m assuming my body just decided to form it because of the whole ‘there’s supposed to be limbs here so let’s fix that’ thing”.

Lewis can’t help but smile, reminded of his friends, “so could you just make tendrils out of yourself? And why not make legs instead of a tail?”.

Danny squints at him and laughs, why was tendrils this guy’s first idea? It’s a damn good thing Tuck wasn’t here to hear that comment. Shaking his head, “doc what? Ectoplasm has some limits. It can pretty well only do or copy what I can or have. Or what all ectoplasm can do. Humans don’t normally have tendrils, same with ectoplasm. So no, I can’t do that with it”. Danny’s got no idea what to make of Lewis actually looking a little disappointed about that, and he doesn’t really want to understand.

“So this tail thing is something all ectoplasm can do then?”.

Danny nods, “yeah. As for why my body went with tail instead of legs, I don’t fucking know really. Never lost a damn limb before. Can’t make it into legs either, so clearly legs are a no no right now. Also won’t go away”, chuckling, “so I legit have a literal phantom limb”.

Lewis tilts his head, it did make sense that his body would just want what it lost back. That’s largely why phantom limbs happened. The brain being unable to understand or accept the loss of a limb. It just seemingly considers this tail acceptable enough, or maybe there was an advantage to having the tail. Or at least maybe his ectoplasm ‘thought’ there was. Standing up and putting away what he doesn’t need, “well I still definitely need to see the bandagings, somehow. Which reminds me, why is the tail bandaged?”.

Danny chuckles, this was going to be weird and awkward. He’d definitely have to out his intangibility. Could just pass it off as an ectoplasm thing. Wouldn’t be wrong really and his ghostly tail is purely ectoplasm right now. Danny blinks, right Lewis had already experienced intangibility with his core. The whole ‘untouchable’ thing. “Ghostly tails just copy the pattern and texture of either skin colour or what ever colours are ‘on top’ of the legs. So it’s copying the look and feel of the bandaging”, shifting around some, “you’ll have to redo the bandaging probably. They feel kind of tight. You can just phase them through my tail. All ectoplasm can be intangible. The Core just always is”, Danny phases part of his tail through the sheets and lets it wiggle around erratically.

Lewis smirks, “convenient”, though if all ectoplasm can do that, and clearly on command, shouldn’t all the ectoplasm in him be able to? Obviously it wouldn’t just fall out of him, clearly ectoplasm could sort of suspend itself in the air. So logically he possibly could make himself, all of himself, intangible. He was also clearly avoiding having to explicitly say that. So he had genuine powers then, probably more of them, instead of just weird physiology. Made sense to hide that. Deciding to get to work, and yeah it’s more than a little strange going through Danny’s tail, he can feel that it’s made of strong energy and it seems completely incapable of holding still. Not the weirdest thing he’s stuck his hands in and honestly it’s more pleasant, and way less messy, than digging through peoples guts. Even if there was a kind of power to getting himself splattered in someone else’s blood.

Lewis tilts his head after he gets all the bandaging off, “question, do you heal differently?”.

Danny’s actively watching the door, someone walking in on this would be bad. Sure, technically no one should be. But still. Danny absent-mindedly fiddles with the removed bandaging with his tail tip, “like I said. I’m fine, would have been fine. Don’t need the worry”.

Lewis squints at him, “are you trying to say that all your injuries would have healed on their own”.

“Heh, yeah”, Danny quickly sends him an apologetic glance, “but like I said, you did what you thought best, so you’re good. It’s cool. I just feel bad about wasting all this time and resources. Not too mention people worrying and being away from Amity”, that reminder makes Danny worry his lip some. He hadn’t heard or sensed any big issues in his lair but still. Leaving it and all his humans unprotected bothered him at the very base level. Twitching a little over just really wanting home.

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, Danny had a big heart but again his face looked physically pained over causing people problems. Even if he really wasn’t. This is exactly what hospitals are for. Even if he apparently didn’t need it. Which, okay, that was weird. The scars made it clear he did need a level of medical care, just less. If Lewis had known that, he would have brought Danny in secretly. Just given him the treatments he actually needed. Frowning slightly as he re-bandages his torso, which is definitely regrowing. Good thing Lewis has seen this level of wonky healing before. “So you heal regenitively instead of repairitively. But all this at least helps right? Well, except the legs I guess. You really like helping people huh? Seems to really bug you not being able to”.

Danny twitches slightly again, “understatement”, Danny sighs because technically this was a ‘health thing’ he literally needed to protect, to help. And all ghosts, even him, needed to be in their lair more often than not. Sure Danny could stay away technically, he didn’t need to be there to replenish his ectoplasm, but he’d basically wind up with an extreme version of home sickness. And sure, the fact that he was slowly ecto-contaminating his hospital room with his ectoplasm helped. But it still wasn’t his lair. Technically he could make it part of it, with time, but he’s not about to make a habit of showing up in a hospital.

Lewis sighs, watching Danny having a mental conversation and clearly debating something. Putting away the supplies and excess bandaging, leaning against the back of a chair, “what aren’t you telling me?”, deciding to give Danny a bit of an out, though hoping he doesn’t take it, “and my ‘Doctor stuff’ is helping right? At least making you heal faster or better?”.

Danny worries his lip some more, eyeing Lewis some. The guy was arguably more normalised to weird than anyone he had ever met. Possibly more than his parents even. And technically it would be good for him to have a doctor friend. Plus it was pretty obvious his first priority was helping, fixing people. Even if he was weird about it. Kinda like another version of himself. Danny tries to fix and protect things before they get hurt, Lewis tries to fix and protect things after they got hurt. They both did it weird too. Danny hits shit and gets territorial, Lewis plays in people’s guts and makes pretty pictures out of it. Plus, Danny’s pretty sure Lewis is doing stuff he’s not really allowed to do. There’s no way someone would be so calm and okay with, definitely against hospital rules, messing with medication so willy-nilly, without having done so before. Meaning that, like Danny, helping and doing what’s best was more important than the rules. Giving what he hopes is a comforting smile, “yeah you’re helping. Bandaging and stitching helps. But, um, I’m actively stopping myself from healing as I normally do. Kicked in some while I was sleeping anyway though. And there is, like, a reason for my protectiveness”.

Lewis crosses his arms and makes a point to look unimpressed. Though he’s actually incredibly curious how someone can just ‘turn off’ their own healing. Obviously it’s got to be ectoplasmic healing, since he can clearly control his ectoplasm. But curiosity isn’t really appropriate when giving someone shit, “I’m glad it did. Please tell me there is some reason you’re intentionally keeping yourself injured. And if the reason for the protectiveness is somehow medical, you better well tell me”.

Danny huffs, “‘cause I’m in a hospital and my parents don’t know. I’m trying to keep my weird unnoticed. If I came in one day unconscious with what I know is a very long list of horrifying injuries, and just walked out the next with nothing but bruising and some fractures. That would be very noticeable”, shrugging and looking around, “that’s ignoring the legs though. No clue how or if that will heal”.

Lewis nods, that did make sense. Danny was entered officially, so he couldn’t just say, delete any MRI results or records of him being here. And his parents do know he’s here and had an idea how bad he is, or should be anyway. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But heal whatever’s covered up. Any further scans can mysteriously disappear or be easily fabricated. Now explain the protectiveness?”.

Danny just blinks at him, firmly thrown. Sure he’d had plenty of teens just throw the law to the side for him, except they usually did that after finding out he was Phantom. Was Lewis just seriously that good of a guy? Quite literally willing to actively disregard and explicitly violate laws and rules for the safety of others? Muttering, “I’m starting to genuinely wonder if you’re, like, an alternate version of me who’s into medicine instead of space”, shaking his head and speaking at a more normal volume, “seriously? You’d do that? You’re a really good dude”.

“I’ve done it for a guy who came in with nearly all his organs atrophied. He should have died in an hour at most. He came back the next day in better health than a twenty something fitness buff”.

Danny blinks and smirks devilishly, “well damn then. Ancients, I’m a lucky idiot. Would the government try to kill him if they found out about him too?”.

Lewis coughs at that, point taken. So Danny had more than just personal reasons and worries about his family to keep this hidden. Nodding, “yeah. So no, I won’t be telling tales about you”.

Danny nods and stares at the ceiling some before nodding again, feeling a bit thrown, “alright then. You have horrible luck with getting weird patients. And I have the luck of the young and reckless”, sighing and shifting a bit uncomfortably, “so obviously ectoplasm’s a ghost thing. And I’ve told you how it basically works as a brain. So ghost brain, yeah? And well brains of different species have their own ways of thinking. Different instincts and needs. One of these needs is called an Obsession. Name kinda gives it away. Basically anyone with even a little ectoplasm in them become a little more intense or extreme about one thing that’s more important to them above other things. More ectoplasm equals more, I guess, intense”, shrugging and twitching some, “my thing’s protecting. Helping. Keeping people from being hurt. That kind of thing. Jazz has psychology, Dash’s is football, Paulina’s is beauty, etcetera. Everyone in Amity has their thing. It’s just more for me”, clearing his throat, “the medical bit is ‘cause of it being more for me. If, say, someone trapped Jazz in something that made it impossible for her to do her studies, she’d just be a little anxious and annoyed. She can just chose to not study. But me? It’s a need. I have to be helpful and protective. I’ll pretty well go insane otherwise. I absolutely would cut off my own legs to satisfy my Obsession”, Danny stops and wheezes slightly, twitching a fair bit. Talking about his Obsession, especially the possibility of failing it always freaked him out. It was so wrong and felt like he was baring his very soul and letting it be scrapped raw. And now he can’t help but think about how him not being at school meant there was no one to take Dash’s hits. How ghosts could attack and someone could get hurt, even other hunters; they couldn’t heal like him! What if someone tries to steal the portal again? If the food or water got poisoned, he’s the only one who would be able to smell it. What if Dani is melting again but can’t find him? He’s the only one with the stuff that can help her, he really should give Val, Sam and Tuck cans. What if someone or the town gets sucked into the Ghost Zone again? What if Vlad?!? And, Ancients, he’s making everyone worry. Sam and Tuck probably think it’s worse that it is ‘cause hospital. Jazz is trying to cover for him. His parents, Ancients, they were probably afraid he was going to die. Would they all be so focused on and worried about him they’d miss something? Or hurt themselves?

Lewis watches as Danny stares at the ceiling, shaking, with his tail swishing around almost aggressively. Very much like an agitated cat that either needs the thing bothering them to go away or a suitable distraction. He was even doing the twitching thing, and his eyes were green again. Clearly he wasn’t exaggerating this and that is rather concerning. He can’t exactly be helpful from a bed. Lewis isn’t great at dealing with people being emotional, watching the panic clearly rising in Danny’s eyes. But he could handle people loosing their shit with a, probably unnerving, level of calm. Deciding whatever rabbit hole train of thought Danny’s spiralling into firmly doesn’t need to continue, going for comforting and likely missing by a mile, “well at least I already got cutting off your legs covered?”.

Danny blinks, jarred, that statement was startling and odd enough to make his brain completely blank for a few seconds. It was honestly the fact that he sounded like he was genuinely trying to be reassuring and helpful, that was more jarring than what he said really. Danny would say that as a joke about himself actually. Danny turns his head to look at Lewis, who gives him a confident but awkward smile. Making Danny completely lose it and start laughing.

Lewis is tempted to give himself a mental pat on the back for, hopefully, subjugating Danny’s mental freak out. But it honestly probably only helped because Danny was strange and had a dark sense of humour. He probably should have made a joke instead actually.

Danny wheezes some more, “I would point at you but I don’t want to fuck up your work again!”, shaking his head, “you’re great. Which probably means you’re weird. But, uh, thanks? That wasn’t comforting, like, at all. But it works so whatever”.

Lewis shrugs, “that tracks for me honestly, so I’ll take it. But you know I have to ask, is there anyway for you to satisfy this here? Because you definitely have to stay in bed and there’s no way I can release you home yet”, trying to throw in some humour, “to be sneakily helpful in a place that isn’t crawling with professionals who know exactly what you shouldn’t be doing”.

Danny snorts, though looks slightly freaked again, “they’re practically professionals too. But beyond helping out with checking me over and providing info, not really. Which is a lot less than I normally do”, blinking and realising something, “I’m not, like, being forced to tell you shit though. So don’t worry about that”.

Lewis frowns slightly, “good, I definitely wouldn’t want that. A friend of mine sometimes doesn’t have a choice what he tells people, his mouth just runs out of his control, sure it can be helpful but it’s not good or desirable really”.

Danny scrunches up his eyebrows and snorts, “you have a weird friend or patient for everything. Mine are pretty strange too. One doesn’t eat anything but meat and has what’s been dubbed a ‘meat sense’. Can even tell what kind of meat you had for last nights supper and how it was prepared. Can tell by smell exactly what kind of meat or cut a piece of meat is. The other, only eats things without faces, has a pet Venus flytrap, and was once in an arranged marriage with a ghost dragon”.

Lewis laughs and nods, that was pretty odd. “And of course, Jack and Maddie are rather unique themselves. Lots of good company”.

Danny chuckles awkwardly and looks at the clock, Lewis had been here a while. Looking at him and raising an eyebrow, “aren't you supposed to be working?”.

“I am. You’re my patient”.

“Don’t you have others? And surgeries?”.

Lewis shrugs, “I’m not a people person. Once folks come off their medication I keep my distance. Surgery’s not till the afternoon today”, smirking, “as the head surgeon I make my own schedule. So really, I’ve just got paperwork, very boring paperwork. So you’re protecting me from really boring adult responsibilities”.

Danny screws up his face a bit and Lewis is pretty sure he messed up, but then Danny laughs, “good then I guess! I’m pretty good at dealing with people, from afar anyway. I’m a lot better at choosing my words than you. Only let my mouth really fly around friends. Though I guess we’re friends at this point”.

Lewis nods with a smile, “I watch my tongue normally. But you’re weird enough to put up with me apparently. That’s why I’m friends with your parents. They’re just weird enough”.

Danny chuckles, made sense. Like how Tuck and Sam were weird enough. Even Val was weird enough, she just also so happened to want him dead. Well, okay, destroyed was a better word. Raising an eyebrow at him, “why we never see you ‘round then? Busy doctor life?”.

Lewis shrugs, “Jack and Maddie aren’t great at keeping in touch. But yes, I’m often busy and I have to move around a lot. I usually get transferred hospitals after a while, once the staff complain about me enough”.

“Why they heck are they bitching about you?”.

“I’m off putting. Too weird and not exactly a sympathetic person. Enjoying gutting people and making designs with flesh is generally considered ‘disturbing’”.

Danny tilts his head and nods a little, “okay when you put it like that, it is pretty weird. I usually creep people out after a while too though, so I feel ya”.

“Let me guess, ectoplasm having its own way of thinking thusly making you act off sometimes”.

Danny nods, “ghost are, ironically, creepy and spooky by nature. They’re predators too. So I’m like that sometimes”, shrugging, “subtly usually. But that creeps people out more I think. I know my folks get startled by how quiet I can move”.

Lewis takes in the slight smirk and chuckles, “clearly you enjoy that some”, just like two certain friends of his.

Danny smiles toothily then, “I’m a thing of mischief”. As Lewis gets up, “coffee?”. Danny grins and nods eagerly, “black and strong. Don’t matter if it’s a little cold”.

Lewis chuckles as he heads out. Of course he wasn’t bothered by cold, he basically had a ball of ice in his chest. Passing by that probably cools any food he eats down near instantly.

Returning with two cups of coffee, both black and a straw in one. Positioning the side table so Danny can easily sip from the straw, as he asks, “so how long am I stuck here anyway?”.

Lewis sits back down, “normally, with the sheer amount done to you, three months at least. But since, as far as the hospital knows, you’re not having any pain problems, healing well, have less injuries than previously thought, have parents with medical knowledge and training, and will have the head surgeon keeping an eye on you. About a month. But if, say, you genuinely need, not just want, to go home. I could probably wrangle it down to a week total”. Lewis is just not going to make assumptions that anything about Danny is normal now.

Danny sips at his coffee, it was weak honestly but that’s hospital coffee for you, and it was way better than more damn apple juice or milk. A week was a long ass time, three months was near physically painful to consider. Especially when he didn’t need to be here! Sighing, “I mean, if it’ll get you in trouble don’t. I can deal with a month”.

Lewis sighs, again Danny was avoiding something. He may have a literal need and obsession to help, but he was horrible at accepting it. Probably viewing it as causing problems for other people and thus the opposite of being helpful. “But is it bad for your health to stay away?”.

Danny tries to sound mildly insulted, “who needs something like that?”.

Lewis gives him dubious eyebrows, “I have a friend who could die without chocolate”.

“Your friend group is concerning at this point”.

“Danny”.

Danny rolls his eyes and huffs, “why does everyone say my name when they’re scolding me?”, after a bit of Lewis just staring at him with raised eyebrows, “Ancients alright man. It’s another ghost ectoplasm need instinct thingy. All ghosts have lairs, They need to be in them frequently to replenish their ectoplasm effectively and heal quicker. I don’t have that problem though”, shrugging, “I’ll just get really strong homesickness”.

Lewis shrugs, that wasn’t really bad for anyone then. But it would be annoying to put up with. Not to mention probably intensify the Obsession thing. Plus the hospital staff would probably be glad to be rid of Lewis for a while. Maybe disappearing for a while every so often would make them less likely to try transferring him. And he knew they’d want the Fenton’s gone as soon as was safe. “That’s reason enough I’d say. I could use something like a paid vacation anyway”, Danny looks slightly confused so he explains, “if I just move in with my good friends for a while, that counts as having an on call doctor well enough”.

Danny blinks and starts laughing, “oh Ancients. That’s your plan? Our house is one part death trap, one part biohazard, and one part questionable food. Sam and Tuck won’t even stay over for more than a night or two”.

Lewis chuckles and shrugs, “sounds like med school dorms. And it can’t be worse than finding a pile of intestines under the sofa or a cup full of teeth in the fridge”.

Danny mouths, ‘the fuck?’, before shaking his head, “we literally have a portal to another dimension in our basement. Our supper often involves food spontaneously coming to life and attacking us; for some reason the turkey is always really good with knives. There are weapons disguised as other things everywhere. We have a blimp that can turn into a jet on our roof. And that’s not even including that Amity, in general, is dangerous. Ghosts are a common thing. Picking fights, blowing things up. We don’t get tourists or visitors for a reason”.

Lewis blinks and pulls a face, dipping his head slightly. That was really weird. It tracked for Jack and Maddie honestly...weren’t they actually trying to build a portal? Huh, guess that worked out. So dangerous house and town, he’s definitely not telling any of the staff about any of that. But it could be interesting, so positives. Shrugging, “well I’m glad that project worked out for them then. But I’m guessing that’s why there are ghosts in town? And for all the ecto-contamination, including yours? And I’ve gotten good at being cautious about what I touch or eat. A friend likes to cook with blood sometimes”, tapping his chin, “which oddly works really well with chocolate”.

“Lewis-”, pausing and tilting his head, “you know, I just realised I don’t even know your actual name. Anyway. Yes and you seriously have an issue with collecting weird friends. I mean, I’m hardly an exception, but still. Where the Zone do you find all these people?”.

Lewis shrugs, “luck I guess. And, if I’m honest, I’ve just been talking about technically two this whole time. They’re really my only genuine friends”, sighing, “and yeah was kind of warned to hold off on my name by your sister”.

Danny squints at him, wondering why the Zone Jazz would do that? But also firmly confused by this guy just having the weirdest two friends ever, no wonder he was so unfazed. “Why technically? And why’d she do that?”.

Lewis shrugs, “something about a bad experience with someone of the same name. And those two are very attached. Complete package deal and they’re never really apart”.

Danny tilts his head, “that’s even weirder actually. Lovers? And-”, Danny pauses, screws up his face, and then pales a fair bit, “oh fuck, your name’s Dan, isn’t it?”.

Lewis nods and Danny damn shivers. Before grumbling, “yeah I’m forgetting that factoid. It’s just Lewis”.

Lewis clears his throat, “Lewis is perfectly fine. Normally only two, well three, call me anything else, though Jack and Maddie call me by my name. And yeah, I’m pretty sure those two are lovers, but they haven’t exactly confirmed that”.

Danny just stares at Lewis, making a damn point to point out to himself how much he does not look like him or Dan. Uh, his fucked up Dan. Fuck no, it’s just Lewis. And shit right, this guy has a ton in common with Danny. Danny even made are ‘are you an alternate me’ joke. The guy derives some level of pleasure and enjoyment from cutting people open and playing with their insides. Danny shakes his head slightly, but Dan would never close people back up. Or be helpful, at all. Yeah, okay, different train of thought. Lewis was a good fucking dude. Just great. Very not Dan. Plus, he must have been around way longer than Danny has even been fully or partly alive, right? Squinting at him, “you got proof you’re older than twenty-six?”.

Lewis is making a point of not looking confused. But he pulls out his wallet and lets Danny flip through all his different ID badges and license. Who eventually grunts and hands them back, looking far better, “okay good, I’m good. But yeah, you’re just gonna be a Lewis”, shrugging a bit stiffly, “might do some good attaching that name to someone not trying to murder me and everyone I care about though”.

Lewis blinks, that’s more than enough reason to dislike a name. Deciding to not touch that subject at all. Though Dan is kind of a shortened version of Daniel. So Danny probably got called that occasionally. Which he didn’t even have to ask to know Danny wouldn’t react well to. “Well I’m quite fine as ‘a Lewis’. It’s my name all the sa-”. Lewis gets cut off by his pager going off and promptly leaving the room. Which Danny apparently finds funny, even if the laughs a little hollow.

Danny mutters about how, “his patient sense damn well better interrupt him at the most inconvenient times too. He can’t be the only one with a sense that has a horrid sense of timing”. Before Lewis comes back, “for once it wasn’t another patient”, pushing the door open fully just for two teens to rush past him.

Tuck making a face at Danny and putting a finger over his mouth instantly, “don’t you say shit or I will launch all of us out the window. The doctor guy too for good measure”. Danny just smirks and snickers, “I don’t have to say shit. You’re thinking it”.

“I hate you”.

Lewis looks around a bit awkwardly, not sure if he should respond to that. And threatening to hurt someone in a hospital bed was decidedly not the normal way to greet them; weird friends indeed. The girl turns to him, hands on her hips and asks, “so just how much did he bang up? I’m asking you because he’ll lie”.

“Hey!”, Danny spits his straw at her, before rolling his eyes and nodding at Lewis, “it’s cool. My friends know me well. Don’t have much in the way of secrets”.

Sam and Tucker squint at him. Wondering if he means something by that. Tucker raising an eyebrow, “you gifted him a Frying Pan?”.

Danny shakes his head, “things have been plenty spooky but there hasn’t been a single Pan in here. All he’s gotten in a new Fan”.

Lewis damn well knows he’s missing something here. Deciding to comment on the only thing that makes sense, “I don’t think anyone has ever given me a frying pan. Cat left a mouse on one once though. That might have been a friends fault actually”.

Tucker snickers and looks to Lewis, though points at Danny, “a prick nailed a dead badger to his door once”.

Lewis shrugs, that was pretty messed up to do to a teenager, but, “a friend made a pile of various heads in their bedroom once. Forgot about it too. The smell was not fun”.

Danny chuckles and makes a firm point to not imagine Dan making a pile of heads, “your friends, I tell you”.

While Lewis nods at the slightly glaring goth girl, “I feel like a bit of a broken record, but. He should be dead. Very dead. Broke pretty well everything from the neck down. Lost some organs, got a lot of metal, lost some limbs, got rather high on prescription drugs. Over all very interesting, had fun”.

Tucker snickers, “Danny on drugs, would have liked to see that”. While Sam glares at Danny and crosses her arms, “Danny goddammit”, before yanking up the sheet.

Danny wiggles the tip of his tail at her and steals Tucker’s hat with it. Tucker clamouring right over him to fetch it back, which Lewis nearly cringes over, obviously they knew about his healing otherwise that was really messed up to do. Though Lewis is also both surprised and impressed that the tail actually had working prehensility.

Sam glances back at the doctor, who doesn’t really seem phased, if anything he’s looking at Tucker funny, before she looks to Danny and raises an eyebrow. Danny shrugs, “it won’t go away, you try hiding that from the guy who’s supposed to notice odd body shit. Plus, Lewis is cool. Great dude. Not a murderer”.

Lewis blinks at that, guess he was still on with the Dan name. Which was probably understandable. While the dark skinned friend sticks his head back up over the bed, “shit dude, did you make a friend? One that hasn’t tried to off you yet?”.

“Fuck you Tuck”.

Lewis chuckles and decides to just sit down, probably would seem least awkward, “death has been brought up a lot in a very short amount of time. But technically, all surgery runs the risk of death. So technically, it is kind of like attempted murder if it’s unnecessary”.

Danny blinks and starts laughing. While Sam and Tucker eyeball the doctor. Seeing exactly why they were friendly. Doctor guy was weird. Sam tilts her head, “wait, you did surgery on him? So you’re his doctor and surgeon?”.

Lewis nods, “Dr. Lewis. Head surgeon”, nodding at Danny, “I like how they don’t even ask what surgery I did”.

Danny tilts his head some, “all of it I assume? And this is Sam and Tuck. Which is probably obvious at this point”, looking to Sam and Tuck, “before you ask, yes I’m absolutely attempting to hide the ghostly tail from my folks. Lewis knows I’m a weird human kid with ectoplasm and weird healing. Also, he literally poked my Core. So he knows shit”, smirking, “also pretty well decided to move into FentonWorks to ‘keep an eye on me’ so I can leave sooner”.

Both Sam and Tucker slowly turn to look at Lewis, “do you have a death wish?”.

Lewis shrugs, “you’re not the first to ask me that. One friend asked me the same pretty much every day for a month because I didn’t ditch my other friend after the whole attempted murder and implied cannibalism thing”.

Sam shrugs and smirks at Danny, “that’s not really worse than dating one many times attempted would be murderer”.

While Danny scoffs, “we worked”, before looking at Lewis with a raised eyebrow, “but isn’t the one friend probably dating the other? Sounds like they didn’t exactly approve”.

Lewis chuckles, “oh he didn’t approve. I believe he said ‘oh god they’re killing you! I’m so sorry!’. My wife basically assaulted them in the hospital and the two had what was honestly a lovers quarrel”.

Danny snorts, “was this the patient that had atrophied organs and was hours away from death?”.

Sam and Tucker look between the two as Lewis nods and chuckles, Danny’s friends knew about Danny’s weird so obviously they were pretty well safe to be open with, “yup. And the other one was actually causing it too. By accident apparently. Not sure I really believe that. But, hey! they worked it out. Positives right?”.

Sam shakes her head at Lewis, “wow, you’re just a magnet for self-destructive idiots aren’t you?”.

Danny smirks, “did he at least get back at them for that?”.

Lewis is pretty sure those two were constantly getting back at each other. “I’d say so. Nearly inadvertently suffocated them. Pretty sure the two made up officially after throwing each other into the ocean and blowing some stuff up”.

Tucker nods, “that seems pretty reasonable”. Lewis is firmly sure it’s not to most people. But his pager going off calls him away. Waving it over his shoulder, “real patient this time. I’ll be seeing you Danny. Make sure you actually heal”.

Danny grumbles, “yeah yeah. Already on that”. While Sam shakes her head, “so he really knows then huh?”.

“Yeah. Not everything obviously. He’s less fazed by weird than even you guys. Though I’m pretty sure one or maybe both his friends are just as weird, if not weirder, than me. So it makes sense”, Danny blinks, “ah! Right! He’s actually a family friend. Known my parents a while apparently. Which, yeah, was worrying, their track record with old friends isn’t exactly good. But he’s good”.

Tucker snorts, “weird for sure. You got lucky dude. But how bad are you really. And your legs?”.

Danny sighs, “bad but not that bad. My original injuries were top ten at most. But at this point and over all? Top three. The medication they put me on messed with my ectoplasm for a while. Plus I’ve had to force down my healing, which yes, is what he was just referring to. And Lewis hacked off my legs. And Tuck, I don’t fucking know. I’ve never lost limbs. Before you ask, yes I tried changing my tail to legs. Nada. Pretty well decided my body just was not having the whole missing half itself thing. Couldn’t do legs so bam! tail”, Danny pauses and snorts. All three starting laugh. Danny wheezing, “you’d think my body’d be chill with being only half something by now!”.

Sam sits on the edge of the bed and pokes his wrappings, “I’m guessing you’re fine under this? It’s been twenty-four hours or so right?”.

Danny nods, wiggling around some and quickly checking himself over, “yeah. Just the typical bruising and cracks left. Which, yes, is more than I normally have at this point but that’s expected. The legs are the only worryingly thing”, sighing, “I really don’t know if they’ll grow back. And you know my folks, already deciding they’ll ‘build me legs’. And while I’m sure they’d make something, whether it would work or not being debatable, I’d rather have my actual legs. And oh fuck, does everyone at school know?”.

Tucker pats his shoulder, “nope. Just that you’re in the hospital after a serious car crash. Everyone was both confused that happened to a Fenton and unsurprised that it was you, of all people, who got hurt”.

Sam smiles and digs in her bag, “speaking of that, here”.

Danny takes the card with his tail and snorts at it. Especially opening it and seeing a threat from Dash right off the bat. About how he ‘better not take the easy way out of his scheduled beatings’. At least Lancer’s poem seems truly heartfelt. Putting the card on table and slipping his tail back under the sheets. “I shouldn’t be surprised”, poking them both through the sheet with his tail, “the shit am I supposed to do about this? Hiding it here is one thing. They don’t want to even talk about or look at the whole leg situation really. But at home?”, Danny shakes his head. His parents weren’t the sensitive type. Pretty well as soon as he was ‘healed’ they be asking to see and get him to try out legs. Outside of trying to be helpful anyway. It was going to be extremely weird them trying to be really nurturing, having hardly gotten that from them. Plus, it was his job to be protecting them. His need.

Tucker shrugs, “I dunno dude”. While Sam sighs, “well at least it doesn’t look like Phantom’s”.

Tucker snorts and pokes at it through the sheets, “might want to keep something of colour or whatever over the whacked off segment. A human flesh coloured ghostly tail would look really wrong”.

Danny pulls a face, “yeah...I could have done without that mental image”.

Sam snorts, “you’ll probably be seeing it, depending on how long it takes your legs to grow back”.

Danny sighs, “when and if-”.

Both of them interrupting, “when”.

Danny looks at their stern faces and laughs. The confidence in his wacky healing was nice, and hopefully not misplaced. Deciding to just go along with it, “well until then, literal phantom limb. Just not Phantom coloured”.

Sam tilts her head, “actually, that might work. You could pass it off as just that. A ghost limb”.

“Sam, that’s literally what it is. How does that help me?”.

Sam shakes her head, and flicks Danny’s, “use your head you idiot. Just pass it off as what it actually is. Your phantom limb. The ghost of your legs”.

Tucker nods, “yeah. Just, like, pass it off as a side affect of the ‘ecto-contamination’ or some shit. Your ghost is just closer to the surface and can show through”.

Danny blinks and flicks around his tail, “I’m a fucking idiot”.

Both of them chuckle, “duh”.

Tucker pokes him, “obviously don’t just spring that shit on them. How long till you head home?”.

Danny smirks at that, Lewis was a sneaky bastard, “Lewis is wrangling to get me home in a week. He knows about the whole lair thing and my Obsession-”.

Both of them blink, “you told him about that? Willingly?”.

Danny shrugs awkwardly, “kind of had to and he did push it out a little. Not to mention there’s still a bit of the drugs in my system. Anyway. He’s oddly health and healing focused, like my level of being protective almost. It was relatable. So now he wants me home and being helpful. So I’ve got a week, probably, to pretend to be injured and lay in a damn bed. Make sure my legs don’t heal too noticeably”.

Sam smiles, “at least you’re good at pretending. And you damn well know you have to still pretend to be injured at home”.

Danny scoffs, “duh. But we all know how little they actually notice. Obviously don’t act too normal. But pretty well once the wrappings off I’ll act back to sorta normal. Just legless”. Danny blinks, realising a slight issue. How the Zone is he going to explain his legs regrowing. If it’s slow enough then maybe they won’t really notice. They don’t generally notice the blood or ectoplasm, even that time he was pretty much caked in it. He’s honestly amazed ‘ghost rain’ worked.

Whatever, future Danny’s problem. As Lewis comes back in with food. Real food. Burgers, fries, shakes, and, wow he actually remembered, a veggie burger.

Sam takes hers and smiles, “I like you”.

Danny curls his tail around his burger and phases off the wrapping without really thinking about. Practically moaning into his food, “it’s been too long!”.

Sam just rolls her eyes. Enjoying her drink. Obviously Danny had told Lewis about them. And he actually remembered what Danny said about them. He’s damn nice and didn’t even bat an eye at Danny just using a ghostly tail instead of his hands.

Lewis smirks, enjoying a far better coffee and mini pie, “and here I thought Tucker was the non-face eater”.

Tucker coughs and looks honestly overly offended. Aggressively and jerkily shaking his finger at Lewis, “the only time I ever, ever, eat something without a face is when one particular dumbass does something spectacularly dumb”.

Danny grunts and swallows what’s left of his burger, “hey now! I had never ran into Blood Blossoms before! How was I supposed to know?!?”.

Sam and Tucker glance at Lewis, who only says, “did you at least get some kind of medical treatment? Because I don’t know about you, but I would if any part of me was boiling at any point”.

Tucker jabs a thumb at himself, “hey! I’m the one who had to eat a pound of the damn things. So I’m the one who needed treatment and mouthwash”, pointing at Danny, “I broke my 14 year meat streak for you, don’t you ever forget that”.

Danny huffs, “well excuse me for being more worried about the asses that we’re trying to burn Sam at the stake, over your diet”, looking at Lewis, “dude, I have never gotten official medical treatment. I’m pretty sure all I did was have a longer bath that night”.

Lewis glares over that but chuckles and nods at Tucker, “a friend of mine would like you. Real carnivore. Except they’d be mad the meat’s not raw and will literally die without meat”.

Danny chuckles, “the same one that will die without chocolate?”.

Lewis nods and tips his cup towards him, “the same”.

Tucker smiles, “I wish I had that excuse”.

While Danny shakes his head at Lewis, “you know. Your two friends are weird. Impressively so. Kinda makes me laugh over the idea of someone talking about me as ‘a friend of mine’. Minus the random hinting at extreme gore”.

Tucker snorts, “dude, you are the gore. Seriously. I swear you have a love affair with physical injuries. Also, the stories we could tell would be way weirder”.

Danny points at him, “yeah but could you do it without blatantly outing me as highly abnormal”, pointing at Lewis, “he did a damn good job of that before he realised just how strange I am”.

Lewis shrugs, “you ain’t telling tales and your friends are in the weeds with you. Plus it’s a miracle no one’s figured them out. One told his damn bodega lady, the other their neighbour. Just to be a scary prick to the guy for blasting music”, shrugging, “well, more showed than told, but same thing”.

Sam shakes her head, “it’s a miracle no one’s figured out Danny. People are just really blind to strange. But you’d think people in Amity would pick up on weird easier”, poking Danny, “but at least you’ve only accidentally shown one person. Technically anyway”.

Danny smirks, “I love technicalities”.

Tucker sticks up a finger, looking down at his PDA, “quick question”, pointing at Danny and then Lewis, “why’s there practically nothing in Danny’s medical file? What is there is painfully vague”.

Lewis squints at him, “how do you know that?”.

Sam and Danny in unison, “he hacked the hospital”.

Lewis eyes the PDA, watching Tucker flip through folders at an almost alarming rate. Well, this was certainly a new one. Shrugging, “honestly, I’m not sure if praise or disapproval is more apporitate”.

Sam raises an eyebrow, “it’s technically illegal and this is your hospital?”.

Danny waves her off, “he flat-out told me he was going to fabricate things to cover my weirdness. Like I said, good guy”.

Lewis shrugs, this was still more normal and less hectic, “its not my first rodeo. This one’s way less bloody. No weird companies with hired goons. No illegal human experimentation. No one’s crashing date night making me have to carry them out of a lobster tank. And again, you haven’t tried to kill me yet. Unusual physiology and extreme injury is pretty easy going”, smirking, “plus I got to play around with your innards. Never got to do that with the other. Made you a bunch of fancy metal sculptures, and the symmetry. Course, you wrecked it all”.

Danny shrugs exaggeratedly, “I didn’t know doc. And don’t jinx me”.

Sam raises an eyebrow at Lewis, “why is that what you care about?”.

“I care about my work. So long as I do what I do, weird’s whatever. Just look at the positives”.

Tucker looks up from his PDA at Danny, “dude, he’s you. You sure he’s not a clone or something?”.

“He’s been around longer than me, so if anyone’s the clone, it’s me”. Danny tilts his head and sniffs a few times, before quickly curling his tail up under him, quickly muttering, “Forwarding”. Which results in Sam shoving all the wrappers into her bag and both her and Tucker looking slightly sadder and standing closer to Danny.

Lewis standing up and composing himself into the form of professionalism as the door opens. Smiling at Jack and Maddie, so Danny has code words. ‘Forwarding’, FW, as in FentonWorks. Smart. He can think of a certain someone who should utilise code words. Maddie and Jack nod at him, Jack asking, “we’re not interrupting anything?”.

Lewis shakes his head with a soft smile, “hardly, I’m just playing favourites”. Earning a smile from both before they rush over to Danny. Sam and Tucker stepping back to give them some room. Tucker typing on his PDA and leaning so Lewis can see it. He’s probably more pleased than he should be at it reading, ‘if you betray his trust, we’ll end you’. Ah, the joys of having good friends. Lewis certainly has friends that would kill for him too, they’d just be a little too eager about it. Nodding slightly at the staring teen.

Maddie brushes Danny’s hair lightly, “how are you sweetie?”.

Danny, knowing saying good would just make them think he’s lying, “I’m okay. But I think I’ll have a slight developed hatred for apple juice by the end of this”.

Everyone laughs slightly as Jazz walks in, sending Lewis a small nod after looking Danny over and seeing the medicine bag doesn’t seem to actually be doing anything. Before heading over to Danny and patting his good shoulder. Leaning next to his ear, “everyone’s fine. The house is fine and there wasn’t ghost issues that were actual issues”.

Danny relaxes a little at that, he knew Jazz would be honest about that. Sam and Tuck, not so much; and his folks didn’t actually know what qualified as actual issues.

Maddie smiles, “well hopefully it’ll be over sooner than you think”, looking to Lewks, “the nurse we talked to said he could probably go home in a month. She sounded a bit surprised by that herself”.

Jack laughs slightly, “said Danny-boy is tough and a good healer! A Fenton through and through!”.

Sam and Tucker share a look, smirking. Knowing it was all Phantom not the Fenton part. While Lewis nods, clearing his throat and stepping forward slightly, “about that actually-”, everyone looks at him a little freaked, so Lewis makes a point to smile softly. Wrong word choice obviously. “-Danny here could actually go home sooner, if there’s a doctor with him. So I was looking to ask if I could stay over for a while”, making sure to frame this like they were doing him a favour, “I could use sometime away from the hospital and it’s been a while. Not just since we’ve last gotten together but since I’ve really hanged out with any of my other friends”, talking more seriously now, because that’s appropriate, “though I’ll still very much be working. Normally at home care takes more effort, seeing as I’d have to bring all the medical supplies and be the only one with medical knowledge”, smirking slightly, “but knowing you two, you might have more medical supplies than the hospital. Besides, you said it yourselves, Danny’s readings are a little off. So really, makes it a little harder for him to be treated here”.

Danny doesn’t exactly like it when anyone brings up his oddness around his parents, even subtly, especially when he was actively trying to hide something strange...like a ghostly tail. He was still a little too ectoplasmicly exhausted to consistently keep it invisible and intangible. So he kept it curled under the rest of him, trying to make it wiggle and pulse and swish as little as possible. While also paying attention to conversations.

His folks look at him, Maddie asking, “would you like that? I know you don’t like us fretting over you, which we very much will be”.

Danny rolls his eyes, he didn’t like anyone fretting over him, “I’d like to go home sooner yeah. Besides, Lewis is pretty cool”.

Jazz giggles, “told you so little brother”, though she eyeballs Lewis a little. He had to be more than just a little strange for Danny to make friendly with him. And actually wanting to live in the Fenton household was incredibly strange.

Jack beams and gives Lewis a strong nod, “then it’s decided! We’ve got a spare room so it works. How long though?”, snapping his fingers and smiling, “maybe you could help us with our work too! Give the more medical side of it!?!”.

Maddie looks at her husband and nods with a smile before giving Lewis a questioning look, “you’re married now right? She’ll be okay with this?”.

Lewis smiles, she’d be okay with pretty well anything, he was lucky to have her. “She’s a pretty busy person herself. She’s had to go away for clients a few times, so she won’t mind me doing so for a patient”, making a show of titling his head and thinking, “as for a timeline. Give or take a week. Closer to five days. And Jack, I’m always up for hearing your interesting theories and seeing the things you two create”.

Danny just blinks, again Lewis was just a really good guy. No one wanted to encourage his parents to blabber or show off things. Partly because that was actually dangerous. Watching as Lewis walks over to be closer with his parents before both basically descend into talking ghost at him. Which he seems to actually be enjoying and putting in his two cents back.

Danny takes this change to readjust some and let his tail move more erratically while they’re not looking. Jazz pokes him, “you are alright, right? You seem uncomfortable?”.

Danny, Sam and Tucker all make ‘shushing’ motions at her, while Danny flicks his eyes to his parents before subtly sneaking the tip of his tail out and wrapping it around Jazz’s wrist. Prompting her to glance down, making a point to not visually react and glancing to where Danny’s legs used to be and mouthing, ‘tail? How? Healed?’.

Danny glances at his parents again, tracing words on her skin, ‘yes’, ‘unsure’, ‘no’. She nods curtly at him and gives the tail a little pat. They could figure out the ‘why’ some other time.

Lewis looks at the time, he’d have to get to bone cracking soon. Smiling at his two friends, “well, I’ve got duties to perform. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you sooner rather than later”. Both of them nod at him so he points at Danny as he heads out, “here or at home, I’m still your doctor. I encourage you to ask or tell me things”. All he hears from Danny is a chuckle.

Sam and Tucker waste no time in following Lewis out. Jack and Maddie assuming they want to ask questions without possibly upsetting Danny. While Danny just sighs, sometimes his friends were worse than he was.

Lewis walks with his hands in his pockets, not all too surprised when he’s suddenly flanked by the two teens. Danny might be the one with a protective need but that apparently has made everyone close to him protective in return. Deciding to just start speaking, “Jasmine already did this whole follow me till out of others ear shot so...”, Lewis trails off as he turns down one of the more empty hallways, “so if, say, you have some unusual medical information about Danny, that he hasn’t or won’t tell me on his own, I’m all ears”.

Sam and Tucker eyeball him before smiling slightly. Tucker speaking, “he’s pretty good at giving information when he really has too. He just underplays things. And you’re not a new doctor or new to this hospital, so you don’t seem suspicious”.

Sam nods, “doesn’t seem to be anyone here with questionable connections”. Sam and Tucker share a look and nod. Sam speaking up again as she looks around, “we know taking samples is part of treating a patient. Do you actually want the results?”.

Lewis squints at them, of course he did. Those were frequently necessary or even vital to treating a patient. Even if he was warned they might be completely nonviable. “We don’t take samples for no reason”.

Tucker nods, taps away on his PDA and holds it out to Lewis. Grabbing it and seeing the lab results on the screen. Again, should he be impressed or bothered? Tucker was really good with hacking. Which is arguably useful when being friends with someone who has secrets to keep. Like being friends with a doctor and a lawyer. And it’s not like he can really judge. Tucker mutters as Lewis looks over the, definitely strange, results, “you’re probably going to get a report about the results and samples going mysteriously missing. Along with equipment and video footage”.

Lewis blinks, they actually broke in and stole? Again he’s done far more questionable stuff, still though, “you know those machines are quite expensive”.

Tucker shrugs, “well they’re destroyed now. Fire, acid, explosives, water submersion. The works”.

Sam smirks, “you’re already doing something you shouldn’t so you tell, we tell. You’re ‘in the weeds’ as you put it too”.

Lewis sighs, “quite true. Does this have to do with him implying the governments after him to some degree?”.

Sam blinks at him, “wow, you actually got Danny's trust above the basic level. You don’t sound too fazed though”.

Lewis shrugs, “like I said, not my first rodeo. Had one patient who got shot and abducted in an elevator by hired mercenaries working for a government sponsored scientific organisation. They were doing some very illegal experimentation”.

Tucker snorts, taking back his PDA, “you’ve seen some shit dude”.

Sam just shakes her head, “well you don’t have to worry about anyone sneakily abducting him. The ones you have to worry about are much more brute force. They shot a missile from a jet at another teenager and blew up an observatory just because they suspected he was even slightly like Danny”.

Lewis pauses his walking at that. So basically Danny being here actually put the whole building at risk? Considering the protectiveness, that would probably bother Danny deeply. Since he wasn’t freaking out or doing everything he could to leave, he probably hadn’t realised that. “Would there be any warning if they try to, and I quote, ‘shoot a missile’?”.

Both teens shake their heads, but Tucker smiles, “they won’t give warning. But I’ve been tracking them ever since they chased Danny halfway across the country before Danny was able to get them off his trail. There was spaceships and a Comic-Con involved”.

Lewis tilts his head and laughs, this was almost concerningly familiar, “huh, a friend of mine got chased all over his city in a car chase involving bombs and missiles. There was a spaceship involved too”.

Sam and Tucker look at each other before looking back to him, “you’re friend is Danny at this point”.

Lewis shakes his head almost aggressively, “oh definitely not. They’ve got a lot of circumstances in common for sure. But Danny’s far more moral and doesn’t come off to people like he’s slightly insane. He’s also definitely not a famous reporter with a habit of pissing off powerful people”, chuckling, “Danny also seems to be less of a mess”.

Sam mutters, “that’s actually impressive”, shaking her head and looking around, “your friend or friends aside. If you see people in perfectly clean white suits and claiming to be government agents, there’ll probably be either two or three of them, then get Danny out of here”.

Lewis nods as Tucker speaks, “hopefully I pulled everything before they got wind of it but it’s hard to tell with them. Usually they’re stupid idiots easy to trick but sometimes they surprise us”.

Lewis squints slightly at the two teens, realising they were oddly mature. Considering what little he’s heard and Danny’s scars, something tells him Danny and his friends live reckless and maybe they do frequently piss off powerful people. Obviously they weren’t fighting against the evils of the world with a camera and the written word, but maybe they were in a far more vigilante/superhero kind of way. Well, at least they clearly weren’t killing people. Lewis is pretty sure Danny physically and mentally can’t actually. So positives. Deciding to test his theory, “that sounds like the government in general. Ever, say, saved the world from some catastrophe or another?”.

Both teens pause for only a second, glancing at each other, that really said everything to Lewis and technically, they were putting more on the line if they said yes. Seeing as Lewis actually knew Danny’s name and where he lived, they knew very little about Lewis’s friends, “I’ve got two friends who have. Did it pretty recklessly and dumb too”, chuckling, “they have the same luck as Danny for surviving shit they shouldn’t”.

Tucker looks at his PDA, “whelp, it’s my third feeding time”, and promptly walks off.

Lewis and Sam watching him go. Sam sighing, “like that’s not suspicious Tucker”, before shaking her head and eyeing Lewis, “I don’t doubt you’ve already made up your mind on what the answer is. But I’m not giving you one”, glaring at the doctor, “but know this, if you get Danny hurt or anything. I have more than enough money to buy out this entire hospital and everyone you’ve ever worked for. And every Manson has a very particular skill for starting riots and fear mongering”.

Lewis nods slightly, ever so slightly startled, “noted”, before she glares at him again and walks off after Tucker. This was all seeming weirdly similar. One guy who was a mess of a person but average otherwise, winds up with some strange abilities and unique physiology; who’s definitely fighting crime, or something, rather illegally. With two friends with strange but useful skill sets helping them out. Difference was, they were a bunch of teens. But hey, clearly they could handle whatever they’re doing. Positives. As he heads to the surgery wing.

Eventually Danny’s just glad it’s nightfall, meaning he gets to be left alone. He could be a rather social person when people were not being dicks to him. But he still cherished his alone time. Even if it was more boring right now and he couldn’t go flying. Zone did he ever just want to really stretch out and he’d never been grounded for so long. Well, not since becoming able to fly anyway. Sliding his tail out from under him and letting it wiggle around freely and erratically. Trying to keep it somewhat still and hidden was more exhausting and difficult than he had thought. He’d never tried stilling it before and being still was, apparently, not something ghostly tails do.

Shuffling to try and get more comfortable just as his ghost sense goes off. Watching the icy mist, thick with annoyance, until he blinks and spots ClockWork; letting a small smile work across his face. “What? Now you’re going to give me a pity party too?”.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”, ClockWork comes to sit on the side of the bed, “everyone’s aware of you being unable to be in your lair. So they’re keeping their distance”, winking at Danny, “no one actually wants to out you after all”.

Danny snorts, “so you scared off a few ghosts bad enough that everyone’s staying away till the ‘strange Phantom’s ally ghost’ leaves”. Danny knows damn well the ‘thank you’ was easily heard. Knowing his town wasn’t going to be harassed was extremely helpful. “I’m assuming there’s another reason you’re here?”.

“You won’t be sleeping yet so”, ClockWork summons a floating chessboard; making Danny laugh as they set up. Fully intending to play though the night, Danny using his tail all the while. Danny’s self aware enough to know he’ll probably have a nightmare if he sleeps tonight. A Dan nightmare. Did he seriously have to have that name?

Meanwhile, Lewis stretches out in his chair. Spinning around his phone and debating calling his friends. It would do them some good to possibly make a friend, one they have stuff in common with. But he hadn’t exactly informed Danny of their particular diet. He might not exactly like that. Plus he hadn’t asked any of them if they were okay with him telling someone else. Sure one of his friends would probably just trust his judgement, but the other will probably threaten to eat him...again. Danny on the other hand was far more paranoid, actually effectively hid and prioritised hiding. Even over his own safety and limbs.

Smiling as his wife comes in, “hey honey”.

She tilts her head at him, “what’s on your mind?”.

Lewis shakes his head with a slight smile, “just a patient. One giving me quite the case of deja-vu. Hasn’t tried to kill me yet but they’re a reckless seriously injured case with some pretty unusual stuff in them”, shrugging with a slight smirk, “or at least they were seriously injured when they came in. Mysteriously healed overnight”.

The two stare at each other for a while, eventually she sighs, walks over and gives him a kiss. Sighing again, “another one? I thought they all died?”.

Lewis shakes his head, “surprisingly no. Not another one. Very different. They’ve just got a lot of similarities. Except their personality is more like me, just more socially normal and paranoid. They actually made me prove I wasn’t some kind of murderer or something”, looking around slightly before looking back to his phone, “I may have been subtly telling tales to make them feel more comfortable and open up. And I was thinking those two could use more friends”.

She runs her hands through his hair and smiles slightly, before clapping him on the shoulder, “well you better go make an apology chocolate cake for when you tell them about that”, shaking her head as she gets ready for bed, “so is he really that much like you and them? And don’t even bother with the neutral pronouns, no way this patient isn’t a guy”.

“Astute as ever. Outside of the fact that I’m pretty sure he has a more strict and important Hippocratic oath than every doctor I’ve ever met. Yeah. That, and he’s a minor”.

She pauses and looks at him, “Dan. That doesn’t sound like someone who would exactly appreciate hanging out with a technical cannibal”.

Lewis sighs, “he didn’t react at all really when I sorta dropped them attempting to eat me-”.

“Okay, now you owe them two cakes”.

Lewis picks up where he left off, “-and I’m positive he’s a vigilante of some kind. One of his friends literally hacked the hospital for files and two of his friends broke into the research lab, destroyed anything with his samples. He’s clearly fine with illegal”.

“That’s not the same as murder. Justified as it is, it’s still murder. Did you ask the kid if he was okay with you potentially setting up a play date with your, lovable but arguably weird, murder friends?”.

Lewis shakes his head and sighs, getting up as she glares at him. The message of ‘then go do that’ very obvious.

Lewis firmly enjoys being head surgeon. It lets him do pretty well as he pleases. No one able to, or really wanting to, question him. Sure he was still accountable to the higher ups but they didn’t bother him about much. Making a point to yawn and shake himself to look more awake before getting to Danny’s door and entering.

Hearing Danny’s voice, “-which just made me think, ‘what would raw meat even taste like?’ and ‘he’s going to give Tuck ideas’ and-”. Danny pauses and turns his head to the door. While Lewis looks around, seeing no one, “talking to yourself?”.

“Uhhhh”.

Lewis shrugs and closes the door, “my friend seemingly talks to himself constantly. A little bit of the town weirdo you could say”.

“Do you ever sleep? And, uh, there was a visitor”.

Lewis gives him a dubious eyebrow, but Danny nods his head at a rather strange glowing chessboard. Walking around Lewis can see it’s actually floating, “huh”, looking over the plays on the board and chuckling at Danny, “you were loosing. They didn’t need to mind me though. Even if I’m not sure how they got out”.

Danny chuckles awkwardly, “always am, but it’s more for the fun of it. And, um, they’re not really a people person”, shrugging and deciding that ClockWork obviously knew Lewis would walk in so clearly they must be cool with Danny trusting, or even think Danny needs to trust, Lewis, “they’re also not a living person”.

“You’re friends with a ghost?”.

Danny chuckles again, “yeah, um, don’t be telling my parents that though”.

Lewis smirks, Jack and Maddie would definitely not be okay with that. From what he’s heard from them over the years, ghosts were dangerous and they seemed to think they weren’t truly sentient. Just green goo, ectoplasm, able to act sentient. But considering Lewis was friends with what was basically a pile of, definitely sentient and definitely dangerous, goo. Plus Danny has made it pretty well clear that there was a level of sentience to ectoplasm. Nodding at Danny as he sits down, “of course, they believe a lot of things about ghosts that is wrong, don’t they? And I’m guessing that, due to your ectoplasm, you have a level of commonality with ghosts and have not only learned about them more genuinely but also made more than just one ghost friend? Though you have said ghosts were dangerous yourself”.

Danny worries his lip slightly. Lewis was smart and noticed things. But at the same time ClockWork wanted to be noticed. And maybe...maybe if Lewis agreed with him on ghosts being sentient beings capable of emotions and feelings. Maybe, just maybe, his folks would listen to their adult doctor friend over him. Sighing and nodding, “they're kind of bigoted. Great at the science and inventions, not so much with psychology or relations”, shifting some, “and yeah ghosts are dangerous. Most that show up in Amity are violent and destructive. In their nature to scare and stir up fear. Some just do it, um, nicer?”.

Lewis nods, “well you have definitely been startling yourself a few times. Though I think you’ve only got me once or twice. I’m rather used to startling things after all. But I’m guessing this ghost was a ‘nicer’ one?”.

Danny blushes slightly, “heh, they’re kind of a father figure in my life. Teacher, mentor, guide. That stuff. I wouldn’t exactly call them ‘nice’ though. Attempted to kill me when we first met”, shrugging and looking around some, “saved my life and the world later though so it’s okay. They’ve also, technically, killed people and ghosts. Butlikealwaysforagoodreason”, the last bit coming out a bit rushed and making him twitch slightly. It did bother his Obsession a bit knowing ClockWork had a kill count. But considering how they met, he subconsciously knew as much. And it wasn’t even like they had killed only bad people or people trying to destroy the world. Clearing his throat, “they do what’s right...what’s best, not what’s nice or arguably good”.

Lewis blinks at that and forces down a smile, that would definitely not be appropriate. It was good he came, because this basically solved part of his mental debate. Danny already was close with someone dangerous and, apparently, murderous. The fact that this ghost tried to kill Danny really reminds him of his friends yet again. Clapping his legs, which Danny looks at him a little confused for, as Lewis speaks up, “well that decides it for me really then”, clearing his throat, “you’ve got a lot of things in your life similar to those two friends of mine”.

Danny blinks and snorts before laughing, “are you?! Are you saying you want to set up a play date?!”, chuckling, “I mean, they do seem right up my alley for strange”.

“Oh you have no idea”.

Danny smirks, “you have half of it”, shuffling and looking more serious, “you’re pretty well asking to tell them about me though aren’t you? My weird”.

Lewis wiggles his hand in the air, “more like vague tale telling. Pretty much what I’ve been giving you about them. If they’re interested they’ll probably be cool with me just telling you everything”.

“Well I’m not giving you permission to tell them everything you know about me. No offence. Vague fine but it better be damn vague”, sighing, “but why was knowing about my friend the nail in the coffin for asking me?”.

Lewis frowns and looks around slightly, watching the door, sighing, “they have a bit of a habit of leaving a trial of missing persons. Always with a good reason. It’s like you said. They do what’s right, not what’s good”.

Danny blinks, realising that when Lewis had made comments about a friend making piles of heads or picking fights, he meant human heads and murder. Breathing out, “Ancients”, Danny then squints his eyes also realising that him being told this, getting Lewis to open up about his own murder buddy, was exactly why ClockWork stuck around, grumbling, “oh you little shit”. Maybe Lewis would have told him anyway, maybe that’s why he was here. But this was basically ClockWork giving their seal of approval and bluntly telling Danny that these friends really did kill for what’s right or good or whatever. Still fucked up and not okay. But, Danny slips out his tail and points it at Lewis, “what do you and they qualify as a quote-unquote ‘good reason’?”.

Lewis nods slightly, for a small teenager wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and casts, he could be threatening and commanding if he wanted. The green eyes and slight echoing reverb to his voice helped in that regard, “serious self-protection, protecting others, world saving and so on. They don’t really have much of a choice. They have to”.

Danny stares for a bit, ‘for protection’. He could understand that and he knows that Lewis knows that. Squinting, “‘have to’? As in similar to how I explained Obsessions? But for killing?”.

Lewis nods, “something like that. They just, I guess ‘satisfy’ would be the best word to use, it in a more ‘good’ way. Try to help people”.

Danny moves his eyes around some. These friends were like goodish versions of Dan. Not that Danny’s going to claim to know what the Zone Dan’s Obsession was...is? And saying that monster needed to kill wouldn’t even be surprising. But these friends weren’t evil, weren’t monsters. Being helpful. Like they had a twisted version of Danny’s Obsession. One that had a damn murder requirement. Shaking his head, no it was more like they just choose to be not evil in spite of an inherently evil and bad need. So technically, they had more right to...kill...than ClockWork did. ClockWork could just shove ghosts in thermoses and people in cells. Danny’s told they as much. But it’s not what’s best, so it’s not what they do. But then again, doing what’s best, what’s right, is why they saved him at all. Glaring at Lewis some, “you know I don’t like anyone dying. But I get it. And they sound...alright”.

Lewis smiles but immediately stops as Danny just glares at him. So maybe Lewis was a bit too used to being friendly with what was basically a mass murderer. Nodding, “they are. They really do try to be as good as possible. At the expense of their health and socialising more often than not”.

Danny nods, that did make it better. ‘Only if absolutely necessary’ was an okay enough reason. Well, not really. Especially not for himself. And possible friends wasn’t the same as murder accomplice, “alright fine. But, and this is a pretty big but, they better not ever kill or attempt to kill one of my humans”.

Now Lewis is missing something again, “your humans?”, feeling kind of reminded of how his friends would talk if anyone so much as seemed threatening around the two.

Danny blinks and looks around a bit awkwardly, him and his tongue, “it’s another ghost instinct thing. I’m more protective and a bit possessive over people that I’m closer with or live in Amity. And there’s sort of levels to it. There’s ‘my humans’ and ‘my humans’ with emphasis. I’m not really to be held liable for beating your friends up if they harm the later. They can technically harm the first group, like punch someone who’s being an asshole, just not kill”.

“So all of Amity is in the first group, and what about the second? Friends and family?”.

Danny nods, “Sam, Tuck, Jazz, mom, dad; sorta Val too. Technically there’s ‘my ghosts’ as well, but, uh, that’s not really going to be a problem. They can defend themselves, and I’m not going to insult them by saying otherwise”.

Lewis chuckles, five of those people seemed fully capable themselves but if there was one thing Lewis knew well, it was how breakable human bodies were. Ghosts were probably more durable than even Danny seemed to be. “Well I’d rather you not get into a fight with my friends, I’d rather not see the end result of that. Though I don’t think you have to worry about them hurting someone”, tapping his chin, “though mind you, one has a tendency to make threats over pretty much everything. I’ve heard them threaten to eat the others organs because he changed the channel”.

Danny snorts, “sounds like a ghost. So long as they’re empty or mostly empty threats”, smirking slightly, obviously these friends weren’t exactly human or barely human, “I might not really know your friends but I don’t really lose fights”, shrugging and looking around a little awkwardly, “if I’m in one anyway”.

Lewis decides not to deny that statement, again pretty sure Danny was a vigilante of some kind. Or maybe just a bit more strange of a ghost hunter. Smiling, “so, you’re okay with me vaguely describing your strange to the people who I’ve been vaguely describing their strange to you?”.

Danny sighs and nods, “yeah. But nothing specific or will give away who I am”.

“Course”, before getting up and heading to the door, “do try to get some sleep tonight”. Danny just grunts.

Lewis flips out his phone as he gets in his car, he’s got a call to make. While Danny stares at the ceiling and seriously hopes he didn’t just do something insanely stupid.

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typinggently · 5 years ago

Note

Hello,, for the prompt thing, maybe number 10 and whichever tom hardy character ship or pairing you like? Like you did eggsy and bob? Love your writing:))

10) a bar, a forgotten letter, one drink too many

Oh, that’s such a thrilling request and I’ve thought about it for a while. In the end, I decided to pick Arthur/Eames, since Eames is the first Tom Hardy character I got into contact with and thus he has a special place in my heart

Thank you so, so much for your sweet words :’’’’’’’)

It’s one of those places where you have to descend a worryingly steep fly of stairs, where golden light filters through thick windows, covered in stickers. Where the scent of smoke and hot fat has seeped into the cracked leather benches and slot machines with sticky buttons blink in one corner.

In short – it’s one of those places Eames takes to like a fish to water.

He wanders over to the bar, gets himself a glass of whiskey and a handful of peanuts. From here, back to the barkeeper, elbows resting on the bar, he has a good view over the other patrons. Most of them are drinking, talking, watching the game on the flickering TV hanging over the bar. In one corner of the room, close to the doorway leading down to the restrooms, a pool table is tucked away. As he sips his whiskey, Eames observes the men there, three plus one.

Three in silk shirts, gold necklaces. Warm colours, bleeding together in the warm light. One in black and white, noir pasted into late 70s glam. Sharp cut shoulders, gleaming hair, white shirt, sleeves rolled up. Eames hums, mostly to himself, and puts his glass down. Without tearing his eyes from the man, he knocks his knuckles against the glass, waits for the soft sound of sloshing liquid before pulling out his wallet once more. A letter slips out and he catches it, puts it on the bar while counting the bills. When he looks up, one of the three soft-coloured men is handing over the chalk to the monochrome vision. Frowning slightly, the man checks the table, the cue gleaming in his elegant hand.

Eames takes a moment to appreciate the view, the long fingers loosely wrapped around the cue, the way the light catches on his slicked back hair as he bends over, his hips, his shoulders. Then, he turns towards the bar and orders a fresh glass of whiskey.

When he wanders over to the table, drink in hand, the three men glance up, but don’t pay him much attention. Golden necklace, silk shirt. Tan, slick hair. He fits in.

Le Chat Noir doesn’t look up until Eames stops next to him, hip leaning against the pool table. The man straightens, raises a brow at him. “Yes?” There’s a sharpness to him, tobacco and ink.

This time, the men are very careful not to look at them, tense under loose silk. Eames licks his front teeth, humming deep in his throat. “I bought you a drink.”

The men relax.

“A drink?” The man looks him up and down. “Drinks aren’t permitted by the pool table.”

It’s probably bullshit, considering the other three lined their beers up on one side of the table, but it’s not a no. So Eames hums, his smile all teeth. “Well, Sweetheart, I guess that means you’ll have to come back to the bar with me, or else I’d have to ask the barkeeper to pour it down the drain. You don’t look like the type of man who’d waste a good glass of whiskey.”

At that, the man scoffs. He reaches out and takes the glass from Eames’ grip. “I see you’re an excellent judge of character.”

With that, he puts the glass to his lips and throws the whiskey back without stopping to breathe. Four, five gulps, six. It’s damn impressive and Eames stares at the pale line of his throat, mesmerised.

“Here you go.” The man hands him the empty glass and turns back to the pool table. It takes Eames a moment, but he shakes his head and reaches for him, clumsy paw on a sharp hipbone.

“Hey- let- Fuck.” He huffs a laugh, unable to help himself. “You fucking hurricane. Let me buy you another one, Love, huh?”

When the man turns towards him once again, he takes a step, bringing them closer together and making their slight size difference obvious. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

Eames, hand still on his hip, grins. “Not a chance.”

There’s a pause, then the man huffs and gently shoves at his shoulder. “You’re paying.” He turns towards the three men still watching and puts his cue down on the barstool to his left. “Thanks for the game.”

With that, he puts his palm on Eames’ shoulder and pushes him towards the backrooms. “Hey, wait a second,” Eames says, tilting his head to glance at the man’s sharp profile. “That’s not the right direction, Dearest, is it?”

The man doesn’t answer, just pushes him through the door clearly labelled “Staff” and closes it behind himself.

“Jesus, you fucking idiot.” Arthur’s hands fist in his hair immediately, mouth against Eames’, teeth on his lower lip.

Eames huffs a laugh and squeezes his hips, pulling him closer. For now, his possible answer is much less important than the taste of Arthur’s mouth, whiskey and smoke, and he loses track for time for a moment.

In the end, it’s Arthur who pulls back, cheeks a little flushed, pupils a little glazed. He tries to look stern, but his mouth is soft, kiss-bruised. “Did you give him the letter?”

Eames nods, leaning in to kiss Arthur’s whiskey-hot cheek. “Sure did. Care to finish your game?”

Arthur huffs, eyelashes fluttering. “Let’s just go back to the damn hotel room.”

Eames thinks of the line of his throat, his hand on the cue, the arch of his back. “Fantastic plan.”

Thank you so much for this ask! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer it!!

I was half-tempted to make this a dream sequence, but I like the idea that they just casually sneak information around like this. Maybe Yusuf was the barman?? Who knows who knows…

#drabble #arthureames

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borderlandscast · 5 years ago

Text

the vault hunters go to ikea

takes place during the epilogue. this took a while because i have no idea how normal people behave when going to ikea.

after nanosounds ordered that deep clean crew, arsenal and his wonderful volunteers (i.e., any surviving bandit who didn’t want their stuff thrown out) made a list of everything that could be kept and not kept. they marie kondoed the frigate from top to bottom.

bandit construction is mostly dumpster diving, improvisation, fixing or stealing things from one another. so the vast majority of furniture within the frigate is junk and isn’t space-faring quality (that is, won’t hold together if it accidentally smashes into a wall during ascent or if someone takes a good swing at it).

fun fact: the only objects in vast quantity deemed to pass this test are the bunk beds within the common, shared troop quarters. however, all the mattresses and sheets had to be stripped down and carted off to be deep cleaned as well before anyone felt remotely comfortable using them. in fact, almost all of the mattresses and sheets were donated to the bandits staying behind. after the cleaning, of course.

runner-up objects are lockers, chests and storage containers. for obvious reasons, arsenal let his own troops claim what’s what but they had to do it in a non-violent way or else it goes to him or worse, parvis’ bandits.

when the frigate finally left pandora, the frigate was in short supply of multiple bits and pieces, almost all of them cosmetic. people slept on the floor, in cots or shared beds, even making cardboard box forts.

before undergoing repairs at the planet hecatoncheires, all spacekea furniture was able to be stored in vox’s digistruct system and popped back into place, no big deal. the captains also made another cleaning mandatory so that the repair crews couldn’t be impeded by anyone’s giant stash of snacks kept in a ceiling high locker.

anyway, arsenal gave everyone a thousand dollars (sponsored by sipsco.) and told them to ‘go nuts’ when they finally docked at spacekea. they’d dock for a week or so, and then leave. after that, future visits would have to be by special request.

spacekea is one of the joint markets that’s one of the only places in the galaxy that megacorporations share. all of them manufacture and sell some sort of commodity, not always furniture. for example, jakobs may produce the majority of generators but they also produce the widest range of wooden furniture. maliwan produces the ‘friendliest’ sourced tea and spices. tediore has the monopoly on one dollar items.

everybody bought a new mattress. and sheets, plus sheet covers. there’s a lot of neat designs (all of them owned by one company or other).

arsenal refused to buy a new couch, but he did buy two extendable children’s beds for his kraggons. having two kraggons trying to hog the same space on his bed is exhausting. hence, the beds.

the other reason why the frigate had to make a stop at spacekea is because some of the stuff being sold fills a particular niche called ‘holds plenty, good for tiny spaces’, given that the frigate is big but not exactly spacious in certain places.

martyn (who’s also the safety officer) had to veto a lot of the trophy and wall shelves since they post a safety hazard. he didn’t say no to paintings, holo frames or wall hangings though.

without a doubt, almost the whole frigate’s passengers ate at the cafeteria, every single day. and stocked up in bulk on the snacks and frozen food. this was one of the first stops they made, and everybody loves food that’s not pandoran. in fact, some of the bandits who’d been born on pandora and never left were trying to find their feet via food. they got hooked, very fast.

the frigate’s passengers all became very recognisable, very quickly. everybody has to wear a name tag identifying what ship they’re from for deliveries, troubleshooting, etc. it also meant that parvis’ literacy classes shot up in attendance a week beforehand.

the whole place is divided into multiple sections. first is the docks, which is divided up by ship size and function. thanks to daltos claiming the registration for the blackrock, the frigate enjoyed a cushy space close to the entrance. not many military ships dock at spacekea, so. and they got free parking due to the length of their stay.

sherlock had to give an orientation about spacekea. it‘s one of his best presentations, and his favourite. it was mostly about etiquette, since more than half the crew have never interacted with civilians before (with threats, murder and bloodshed not counting).

the docks are linked to the cafeteria, warehouses, display rooms, hotels and the market. instead of it all being laid out in one direction, the designers went with a much more helpful design: a four way, multi-leveled behemoth of interlocking buildings.

hotels are there to help people who flew smaller ships who intend on staying awhile, or families on vacation, or anybody who wants a bed to sleep in for a day. hotels are divided into classes, which range from five star to one star, even down to rentable capsules.

after the hotels (mostly arranged on the outside perimeter), people enter via main hallway. from here, omnidirectional lifts, elevators, escalators, turbolifts (only for express, staff or richer clientale) can take people to where they want to go.

the cafeteria serves up a massive menu that’s uniform to every spacekea. the menu boasts that there’s always something for someone. the hot dogs, soft serve, meatballs and desserts, to name a few, proved especially popular with the blackrock’s crew. rythian enjoyed the dairy free soft serve.

the display rooms are dioramas that are filled with sample living spaces designed to inspire ideas from those passing through the hallways. they all come with holographic clipboards, a catalogue and a pen. the pens are all chained to the clipboards to discourage theft.

how it works in theory is that if there’s a piece someone fancies, they jot down the item number, price, quantity and name so that they can pick it up at the warehouse or the market.

in reality, sherlock had to lead groups and track every single one of these clipboards since not every bandit could write legibly or in a decipherable manner. he’s never been so well-acquainted before with so many bandits until this moment. don’t worry, minty, hollie sparkles, parvis, ravs, daltos and arsenal helped him out, in shifts.

you can go into the dioramas and display rooms. this the crew did, in varying ways.

rythian wanted a king size bed since he’s tall. and he’s tired of having to make himself fit. also, ravs is buying for him. he also bought the highest grade book storage unit available, and a miniature hammock for junior.

ravs spent an hour testing the display bar, fermenting and barrel rooms, and had five different salespeople attending to him at once, owing to his manners and charming personality. he ended up buying a deluxe suite, and wrangled a fitting service for free since he’s buying so much in one go. he also bought a spacesaving bird loft/avairy for the pigeons and quails.

lalna and xephos spent three days alone in the tech section, pressure testing the hardware and systems in that area. people kept mistaking them for salespeople and customer service. they eventually got paid by spacekea because of their EFFICIENCY. both turned down offers of employment.

honeydew and nilesy performed an impressive interpretative dance within the kitchen and cat rooms. both are no pushovers when it comes to cooking and cat care, and nilesy has about fifty cats to house and entertain. nilesy also brought along lyndon (his own diamond kitten) to test items, and had to have honeydew with him to fend off people who wanted to interact with the kitten.

minty almost got kicked out because people thought thought she was a part of the displays since she kept putting her feet up on the desks. she found a desk she liked, and even bought the display one since she ‘felt a connection with it’, which didn’t impress sherlock when he had to sort it all out.

honeydew also took his gardening team on a serious quest to maintain the grass room and hydroponics (i.e., veggie patch). this took four days to complete from start to finish, involving picking out new turf, chairs, trees, benches, fences, pots and seedlings. the grass room looks like a proper grass room now, and not just a lone field of grass with a sad looking tree in the middle.

lomadia bought a small bed for her still to hatch egg. it was doll-sized, and a lot of people gave her strange looks for buying a bed specially for it, until she pulled out the incubator capsule to prove that she was serious about it.

zylus bought a chef grade bread machine. this daltos tried to prevent since he had deja vu about too much dough being made, and which zylus rebuffed. his premonition proved correct since the crew ended up eating bread for whole two weeks, and didn’t even mind.

daltos bought a portable, handheld hologram kit intended for engineering projects. it’s the one he carries around with him in the epilogue, used for tracking a ship’s condition and status. vox sends him stuff through it. he also secretly uses it to watch movies and a n i m e.

since parvis is staying with will, he tried to buy a water bed to replace his own shoddy bed/cot. will couldn’t stand all the wobbling and sloshing, and had to convince parvis to buy a different bed. parvis bought a fancy bed with hangings and velvet trim. will facepalmed. will also bought a handcrafted tie rack. parvis made fun of him. will bought five more just to own it.

saberial strongarmed panda into buying a lot more organisational stuff since their ship and room is obnoxious to hang out in, given their habit of leaving stuff lying about. panda sticks to organisation for about a month and then goes back to their own haphazard system.

hatfilms act out wine or cheese within the display rooms, which leads to security being called on them twice, one casting call by an agency and many applauds by passerbys. all of them end up in an advertisement, and get a buttload of free goods, mostly food.

lalnable kits out his medical office with an adjustable standing desk. lalna also buys one to be a copycat. lalna also buys one of those stuffed toy sharks. lalnable hates it because it’s so obtrusive to see.

sherlock buys a whole kit of stationary, shelves, boards and office goods. he spends the next month slowly integrating them into the offices. he’s the happiest he’s ever been. bandits dub him the best nerd.

nanosounds decides to renovate the home office in her mother’s place as a sign that she’s a good daughter, but decks the wallpaper and carpet in varying hues of purple. her mother is secretly thrilled by her independence and modern thinking.

teep just buys one of the best mattresses available, and nothing else. this drives all their friends nuts, who then spent the whole trip trying to convince teep to splurge. teep eventually buys...one black coffee from the cafeteria.

#borderlandscast: extras #borderlandscast: more like memescast

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what-the-ship · 5 years ago

Text

Tickling the Ivories: Chapter 2

Dakota and Cavendish share a brain cell but Milo has full custody.

Thank all of you for the support the last few days. Part one: Here

Sunday was laundry day. The Laundromat they liked to use was moderately clean, plus it had a vending machine that was always well-stocked. Several people were milling around not speaking a word to each other. Each wrapped up in their own story.

Leaning against one of the tables Dakota glanced back and forth between the muted television hanging from the ceiling to their sloshing clothes. It was kind of trippy seeing the bright red and orange swirl together with the muted hunter’s green. When he got bored of that he would read the awful subtitles to the soap opera playing. Cavendish had the foresight to bring a book.

Long legs stretched out in front of him he was reading the book with both hands. Reading the cover Dakota noticed something about the title.

“Why’d you get a book with a misspelled title?” He asked before popping another corn chip in his mouth.

“What?” Cavendish asked in his usual Im-so-done-with-this tone. Dakota gestured to the cover with the hand holding the bag.

“They spelled ‘worm’ wrong.”

Cavendish glanced at the cover before sighing loudly.

“It’s an old English word term, that usually refers to huge limbless and wingless serpents. Over the years the meaning has been changed to refer to dragons apparently. From what I’ve gathered the author seemed to think the wordplay was worth being inaccurate with the title.” Cavendish explained barely looking up from the text.

Dakota’s possible next comment was interrupted by a bale of hay with the Murphy Trio hurling through the large glass window. Zack tumbled kicking the book right out of Cavendish’s hands right into an open dryer. The momentum forced the door to shut and caused the internal mechanism to start the unit on the hottest setting. In seconds the book began to smoke and the machine stopped.

“Sorry Cavendish,” Zack said retrieving the text. He pulled out the book only for it dissolve into a pile of ash on the floor. “Again, sorry.”

“Great now I’ll never know if Griff gets turned back to normal.” The tall man complained throwing his hands up.

“Oh? Are you talking about that Nicholas Flamel book? Its actually very interesting-“Melissa was cut off by being shushed by a fussy older man.

“No spoilers.”

“MY GOODNESS IS THAT THE TIME?” Milo exclaimed noticing the clock before it fell off the wall.

“Got to get this to Amanda before the competition.” He pulled out a pink polka-dotted present before slipping it back into his backpack.

“So planning on doing anything with your girlfriend tonight?” Tease Melissa making kissy noises.

“No. I’m going to watch my parents compete…from home.” Realizing he was ending the conversation on an awkward he turned to the two-time travelers. “Bet you two have an interesting night planned. You two are always doing something interesting.”

“Nope. This is it.” Dakota moved the hay bale where he wanted it to sit down. Cavendish sat next to him pulling out his phone.

“Besides. Why would we do anything for Valentine’s day?” Cavendish asked rhetorically still not looking up from his phone. Zack and Melissa looked at each other to mouth ‘I thought they were’ ‘Yeah me too’ to one another. Milo gave the two a hard stare, out of the corner of his eye Dakota saw a look that pierced his soul.

He knew the truth Dakota refused to acknowledge and he wasn’t pleased.

The God of mercy remembers Dakota existed and granted him a small blessing in the form of Milo’s phone ringing. Expression changing from scolding to joy Milo answered his phone.

“Hey, mom. Right. Oh, that does sound serious. Right. Yeah, we’ll find you a replacement. I love you too. Bye.” Milo still had grin as he announced his dad was on his way to the hospital and they now needed a replacement for the ‘last couple standing’ competition.

“Don’t look at me. My parents are out of town.” Zack waved his hands.

“Same.” Melissa nodded.

“Mm. If only we knew of someone else.” Milo gripped his chin thinking.

“Eh?” Melissa asked motioning to the two men now. Zack shrugged.

“Say, Dakota.” Milo took a step towards them. He fished out a flyer to hand to them.

“Not happening kid. I don’t know what it is but we want no part of it.” The teens look taken aback a little. Cool, laid back Dakota was being curt. Cavendish looked up from his phone to see what was written on the flyer.

“We’ll do it,” Cavendish announced taking the flyer from a stunned Milo. Ignoring the four puzzled looks the Brit folded the paper like a letter before tucking it into his coat.

“Alright see you at 6!” Milo smiled before leading his friends out of the Laundromat.

“Since when do you go for things like that?” Dakota exclaimed half crushing the rest of his chips.

“Not like we have anything better to do.” Cavendish had pulled out his phone again. “Might as well enjoy ourselves.” Dakota could feel his eye twitching under his shades. Unwarranted fury began to boil up inside him. All this time he’d been walking on egg shells and just…gah! Too many mixed signals man!

“I’m gunna lay down,” Dakota announced making his way to the van.

“Have a good lie down then. I can finish here.” Cavendish called out to his friend’s retreating back.

Stretched over the entrance to the High School football field was a banner announcing, “The last Couple Standing”. Seeing the font they used Dakota felt a bubble of unease in his stomach. That font didn’t look too friendly. A small protest exited his mouth only to be drowned out by Cavendish hollering at him to hurry up.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dakota complained unbuckling himself to follow after.

“Well, that went as well as expected,” Cavendish mumbled dragging his heels back towards the van.

“I’m starting to think Murphy’s Law is contagious.” Dakota moaned nursing his arm. The two looked like they fought a flame thrower wielding grizzly bear. Licking his fingers Cavendish put out his smoldering mustache. It all started with a single firework that started a series of events Rube Goldberg would be proud of.

“Just as we were winning too.” The grey-haired man scowled leaning back into the mostly empty van.

Leaving the doors still, open Dakota sat next to his partner to tap out a few pebbles that got lodged in there by the exploding fish tank from earlier. Who brought a two-gallon fish tank to school event anyway?

“Hey. I still don’t get why this stupid contest meant so much to you.” Dakota snapped digging wood shrapnel from his curls. Still lying on his back Cavendish pulled out the folded up flyer from earlier. Dakota unfolded it to read over the entire flyer. In the bottom left-hand corner in a spikey purple blurb, it stated the grand prize was a fifty dollar gift card to Rita’s Burritos.

“You seemed rather down lately. So I thought maybe a gift card to your favorite restaurant might help make you feel better.” Cavendish threw his arm over his eyes to give them a rest.

“You did this…for me?” Dakota was not choking up. He refused. Remembering he had picked up something earlier he reached behind one of the crates still leftover from yesterday’s clean. “Hey, I got you something too.“ It wasn’t wrapped so he just set on Cavendish’s middle taking the air out him slightly. Uncovering his eyes he saw a black orange keyboard lying in his lap.

“What’s this then?” He turned it on eager to hear what it sounded like.

“Obviously we can’t get a proper piano so I thought I’d improvise.” Dakota gestured to the three-pound instrument. There was a pause between the two of them. Heart sinking his toothy smile faded to nothing. “You hate it.”

In response, the taller man leaned forward to give a proper hug. He gave a small nuzzle before turning his face a little to-

They both froze for a second. In a flash the two separate wearing mirroring red looks on their faces. In an attempt to break the tension Dakota suggested a song. The two of them played several versions of ‘Going to the Zoo’ before they called it a night. Both smiling wide the two of them messed around with the keyboard well into the night.

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #dakavendish #thank you all I can't write romance #fanfic #fanfiction

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indigowallbreaker · 6 years ago

Note

Alright, I’ll admit I’m a Steve/Tony hoe, so like, keyword “sorry”? You can make it as angsty or even as fluffy as ya dear heart desires, I just wanna see your take on those two lovable idiots ❤️❤️

Dude I used to be die hard Steve/Tony so I’m here for this.

–

There was something magical about sunrise. It was the reminder of a fresh new day at one’s disposal. It was a breathtaking array of colors and the alarm clock of creatures everywhere. Sunrise was truly a sight to behold.

Not that Tony Stark could see it way down in his workshop.

And even if he could he probably would have glared at it in defiance of every adage about not looking directly at the sun. All nighters had that effect on him.

He sighed when JARVIS announced what time it was. With a wave of his hand he put his electronic notes into a folder marked “Fission Mailed”. The night had been a waste. Every test had gone up in flames and some hadn’t even gone past the calculation phase.

“JARVIS, I think we’re done here.” Tony said as he stood and stretched. Several parts of him popped heroically as he did so.

“Very good, sir. I recommend a nap before your meeting with SHIELD at 10.”

Shit. There was that, wasn’t there?

“No time. If I slept now I’d want 9 hours, not 3.” Plus Tony’s mind was spinning with ways to fix this new suit design. He knew himself. There was no way he could calm down enough to sleep.

JARVIS did the computer equivalent of grumbling to himself as Tony crossed tot he elevators. Shower, a shave, and maybe asking Banner/Hulk to slap him in the face would wake him right up. SHIELD would be none the wiser. Coffee would help but he wouldn’t have time to wait for the coffee maker so he mentally nixed that, though it hurt to do so.

The ding of the elevator snapped Tony back to himself. Shit, maybe he was too tired for a full meeting. Maybe he could pay some baddy to attack the city and get him out of it. Wait, no, that was more work. And probably would warrant a debrief meeting on top of everything else.

Running a hand down his face, Tony walked out of the elevator and headed for the kitchen. Any sane person would be asleep still so Tony expected he wouldn’t have to struggle through conversation just yet.

Hence his surprise when he spotted Steve Rogers at the counter. Tony froze when he saw Steve. Steve looked over at him and smiled too brightly for the early hour. “Good morning,” he said.

“Not really,” Tony drawled, taking in Steve’s workout clothes and hating him a little. “What are you doing here?”

“JARVIS said you were on your way up so I made coffee.”

“You what.”

Steve turned around and, sure enough, was holding two steaming mugs. He held out a red one to Tony. “Just sugar, right?”

Tony wordlessly took the mug. Then he stepped forward into Steve’s personal bubble and kissed him full on the mouth. He lingered for perhaps a moment longer than he planned before pulling away. “Sorry,” he muttered, not meaning it. “I just. I love coffee.”

Steve audibly swallowed. “It’s… fine.”

“You should make me coffee more often.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I’m half asleep and don’t know what I’m saying, what’s your excuse?”

“Don’t need one,” Steve said with a low chuckle. He leaned in for Tony’s lips again. They stayed like that for a while, idly exploring this new development as rays of sun crept through the window. Steve’s hand had curled into Tony’s hair and Tony had his free arm around Steve’s waist.

Then some coffee sloshed over Tony’s hand and he cursed against Steve’s mouth. “I should drink this,” Tony remarked lamely, switching hands so he could shake his burning one.

“You should also shower.”

“Don’t get high and mighty just because you can work a coffee machine.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve left the kitchen clutching his own mug. Tony watched him go, a small smile taking his face.

Maybe sunrise was magical after all.

#indigo asks #hey wow this gone a bit long whoops #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #avengers #this takes place in that magical timeline #where they all lived in avengers tower #and went on missions #and never had a dumb civil war #hey thanks for reading tags it means a lot #musicalpancakes77 #stony

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zephyrfuse · 6 years ago

Text

What Reshi says about ur weapon (requested)

There are some weapons I don’t have enough data on or dont know what to say about it so I leave em blank. Sorry for those who main those weapons and im like uhhh idk man lol

This is 50% opinion, 50% jokes if u take offence ill wedgie u

Splattershot JR Rating: Nostoliga Player: You like the level one baby squid clothing or probably can’t aim well enough for N zap

Custom Splattershot JR Rating: P fun to play tbh Player: You like the cute custom inkpack, and also are probably a p good player despite having terrible aim

Splattershot Rating: Reliable nostalgic shitbag Player: Laggy oneshotters who bullshit through anything

Tentatek Splattershot Rating: I think I like you a little more Player: Not as BS as Splattershot but still p bs

Octoshot Rating: The only valid Splattershot Player: You are an Octo slut more than a tryhard Splattershot player.

Splattershot Pro Rating: I like it tbh Player: you have a little more loyalty to your weapon compared to forge players so i like you

Forge Splattershot Pro Rating: I use you briefly because ur good but not game changing Player: You probably follow the crowd in ranked SZ and use the weapon cause everyone else does decent with it but for some reason your win rate doen’t change much

Splash o matic Rating: Quick inkjets...are nice Player: You really are a rare tryhard who REALLy wants to show off with inkjet

Neo Splash o matic Rating: p fun tbh I like it Player: You can actually aim but stays low and prefer rush for support. You still can be p bs tho

Sploosh o Matic Rating: Lesser Inkbrush Player: You can’t aim but you generally aren’t a bad player. You LOVE just zooming around the map and panic specialing when someone gets close

Neo Sploosh Rating: I honestly dont even know Player: I honestly never see anyone using this weapon

.52 Gal Rating: normie Player: you probs just like Aloha or rlly like RM and CB

.52 Gal Deco Rating: I like this weapon but also the 2ko sucks against it Player: You’re kinda a normie, but also you like sparkles and ur kill rate is decent

.96 Gal Rating: Get ur Armor Player: Idk much about u but the fact you had sprinklers was a pleasant surprise for me

.96 Gal Deco Rating: ??? Player: You didnt want to be a basic bitch like the 52 gal or the Splattershot pro so you live in this limbo willingly

Aerospray MG Rating: Traded u for brush a LOng time ago Player: 95% of the time u guys Suck...

Aerospray RG Rating: Fuck you that u stole the sprinkler from the inkbrush Player: I am trippin balls but you are literally all about them

N Zap Rating: Ur a good armor provider when teaming with friends Player: You are probably a tryhard noob

N Zap 89 Rating: What if it was orange and good at harassing chargers Player: You are almost DEFINITELY a tryhard noob

Jet Squelcher Rating: God you are so valid Player: You probs use it for TC only if anything

Custom Jet Squelcher Rating: Stingray keeps me alive Player: You actually know how to play this game and are a p solid player although not flashy. You are the more mature brother of the Splattershot Pro

L3 Nozzlenose Rating: I respect you Player: You are a rare beauty now a days and i need more of you

H3 Nozzlenose Rating: HOW its SLOW Player: honestly if you used the Cherry competitively in Splat 1 fuck you

Squeezer Rating: Crack a cold one with the boys Player: You’re a valid joke and i love u

Foil Squeezer Rating: Bubbles are nice Player: ??? Your kill rate isn’t THAT bad generally but also move on already

Heavy Splatling Rating: You are reliable and I trust you Player: Was a tf2 fan or a competitive charger fan who ditched the charger for a higher tier weapon

Heavy Splatling Deco Rating: I love you Player: You like bubbles and SZ

Mini Splatling Rating: You are like the lesser used more valid version of the splattershot and I like u Player: You like to go fast

Zinc Mini Splatling Rating: holy shit Player: You like to go fast and realized this kit is bomb af

Hydra Splatling Rating: I love you unless ur my enemy on Shellendorf Player: You stand strong and fast and do not change

Custom Hydra Splatling Rating: Strong...valid Player: You realized inkmines aren’t always shit and thank you so much

Ballpoint Splatling Rating: hell yeah Player: you’re probably a higher level player and finds it fun but still realizes regular splatlings still a little stronger

Nautilus 47 Rating: God this is a nice weapon, its a shame its just a splatling gootuber Player: You are a skilled player but also not too tryhard since you know your weapon isn’t very good. Practicing the stored charge swim strafing is fun.

Slosher Rating: I miss the burst combo Player: You like missiles that much dont u

Slosher Deco Rating: give me my soda slosher back Player: You are solid and good for CB (and probably rlly miss the soda)

Sloshing Machine Rating: Not my type Player: You generally always kill me and u solid

Sloshing Machine Neo Rating: ??? Player: always kills me but with bomb rush

Tri slosher Rating: I can’t use you for shit Player: You had the confidence of the Straight White Man till you got Nerfed

Tri slosher Nouveau Rating: still cant use u for shit Player: you arent as bad as the other counterpart tbh

Explosher Rating: I like u but not that much Player: You loVe the pit its ur best friend

Bloblobbler: Rating: Fun weapon for leaguing as MR. CLEAN Player: you’re MORE invalid than blaster unless ur doing the above

Blaster Rating: id rather die than touch u Player: Fuck you

Custom Blaster Rating: HISSSS Player: has ligma

Range Blaster Rating: BS plus slow = Extra BS Player: honestly I cant even begin to understand what kind of person you are

Custom Range Blaster Rating: ew Player: Fuck you if you cannot aim, and ESPECIALLY fuck you if you CAN cause you OKO me all the time

Luna Blaster Rating: Not bad but I’m too salty to use it Player: You LOVE TC and probably know you are a bunch of bull

Luna Blaster Neo Rating: Not as bad as regular blasters but still Player: ???

Rapid Blaster Rating: I love u, ink mines ARENT shit Player: You are using one of the most valid blasters be proud

Rapid Blaster Deco Rating: Bombrush is useful sometimes Player: You are also p damn valid

Rapid Pro Rating: hard for me to use most of the time Player: You are a respectable player who is generally good and not that flashy.

Rapid Pro Deco Rating: Doesn’t get armor fast enough Player: ????

Clash Blaster Rating: Haha its crayons... Player: As much as the clash is bs, you still are p valid and can use stingray

Clash Blaster Neo Rating: Its crayons but bs Player: you hate aiming so much that you got away from the stingray

Splat Roller Rating: You’re p fun but not as much as the others Player: You really want a buff to this weapon dont u

Krak-on Roller Rating: My hero in RM for most of my career (till i started using inkbrush again) Player: You miss kraken it doesnt even make any sense doesn’t it

Carbon Roller Rating: Fast... Player: why you haven’t traded your soul for the deco is beyond me, but at least you still have yours and i respect you

Carbon Roller Deco Rating: holy shit Player: you traded ur soul to satan for the most bullshit chaos of weapons I fear you as an inkbrush main

Dynamo Roller Rating: God ever since they made you almost unusable you became so valid Player: You probs use both rollers but this time Sting ray seemed nice

Gold Dynamo Roller Rating: my wonderful new nerfed son... Player: You cry cause u want to cosplay Rider but rlly suck at this weapon OR you are actually good at this weapon and are fine that you can’t dominate the ring anymore like how it used to

INKBRUSH Rating: 420/10 I SMORCh, weapon of the GODS Player: You are SO valid, and if you use this outside of CB then you are a god and I will scream im ur biggest fan

Inkbrush Nouveau Rating: You’re a bunch of valid shit but only most of the time Player: You either use this ONLY for CB or want to actually die irl

Octobrush Rating: Reliable ranked weapon for easier going days Player: You like easier kills and harassing with autobombs and generally get a decent splat count

Octobrush Nouveau Rating: This kit is a downgrade Player: Probably a noob who can’t aim with inkjet

Flingza Roller Rating: It has a cool design and is the smarter of the two Player: knows to throw a wall before safely vertical flicking.

Foil Flingza Roller Rating: Dont use the vertical flick Player: Uses the vertical flick and dies

Splat Charger Rating: Oh how I still love you even though bomb rush was nice Player: You probably moved on to Heavy Splatling but if not, you still are scary as fuck but suffer from lower splat rates.

Firefin Splat Charger Rating: Bombrush is good choice sometimes Player: You probably main both chargers but just like standing back and then rushing when you get your special

Every Splatterscope Rating: ew claustrophobic Player: you a tryhard probably and isn’t as valid as normal chargers

Classic Squiffer Rating: god id give my blood to help you u poor cleaning tool Player: You probably main another charger but your heart is still here and i love you

New Squiffer Rating: I would be running out of blood but i still would give it Player: You spam autobombs to make up for your weapons shit abilities

Bamboozler Rating: Pew pew pew pew ( i love this weapon but slightly salty ur range is higher than the squiff) Player: pew pew pew pew pew pew

Bamboozler mk 14 Rating: pew pew pew pew pew pew pew Player: pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew

E liter (no scopes) Rating: Dam what happened to u son...i mean I mained u in 1 but i dont miss u that much, sorry Player: you just like the extra range but you often don’t do that good anymore

E liter (with Scopes) Rating: AHAHAHAH look what happened to u bitch Player: You deserved the nerf how does it FEEL huH

Goo Tuber Rating: I have high respect for this weapon and I WISH i was good at it Player: you’re most likely a tryhard JP player but JP doesn’t read this post so...you’re a tryhard charger user but knows your weapon isn’t at all that good

Custom Goo Tuber Rating: Ditto above Player: You just like the inkjet and extra mobility but also ditto above

Splat Dualies Rating: Nice, i cant aim burst bombs for shit Player: You can’t aim with inkjet or prefer the one two punch with the bursts

Emperry Splat Dualies Rating: I can’t aim with inkjet but one day.... Player: You probs are a tryhard ranked player and you are either good or bad

Dualie Squelchers Rating: Oh how I flipped out when I saw ur trendy upgrade...my dual squelcher baby all grown up...sniff Player: You just stuck with the originals and LOVE your missiles despite them being low tier specials for the longest time

Custom Dualie Squelchers Rating: You so smooth man...high tier but still valid Player: You probably use them because of they're high tier and reliable but you did make a good choice

Dapple Dualies Rating: I use you sometimes when I want your dps to do the work for me and want a bombrush Player: You are probably 25% BS but suffer when people do not use ur beacons. You probs find some bs way to get beacons in the enemy spawn and constantly harass us from behind if ur actually good at it

Dapple Dualies Nouveau Rating: I use you to do the dps work for me and also harass people with toxic mist Player: no one used ur beacons

Glooga Dualies Rating: its cute but God its...so slow Player: You never do too well and I respect you. Probably uses it for CB or RM and doesnt mind the ink mines

Glooga Dualies Deco Rating: The tryhard cousin of the Glooga Dualies Player: You blamed the mines but then realize the whole weapon isn’t that good in general

Dark Tetra Dualies Rating: Weapon cooldown after roll is invalid Player: you just want to win but you generally aren’t as good as you like at it

Light Tetra Dualies Rating: Autobomb launcher surprised me Player: You are probably just trying it out for now but still ??? about it and is just having fun for now

Splat Brella Rating: 10/10 still salty u stole my dream inkbrush kit Player: You don’t care much about kills and u p chill. You hate blasters tho

Sorella Brella Rating: My right hand man for ranked Player: You got tired of shit and decided to bring the thunder

Tenta brella Rating: so slow...but god ily Player: You are defense and support and probably love CB and ur teamies

Sorella Tenta Brella Rating: weird kit but valid Player: ???

Undercover Brella Rating: why are you so bad Player: you tried it and realized it sucks. You are salty of the low duration and slow kill rate

Sorella Undercover Brella Rating: thats a little better Player: you like CB probably and liked the original idea of the undercover and knew it sucked, but you are loyal

Any hero weapon Rating: I have one(1) Player: you have no life and likes to look cool

#reshir rambles #splatoon #splatoon 2

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 14

'Oh God what time is it?' you worry as you gather yourself to leave the room in search of a clock.

Just as you closed the door behind you you see Toby and Connor walking up the corridor. Toby has two bowls in hand and his steps falter a bit when he sees you.

“Shit did I wake you up?”

“No? I don't think so, I just woke up. What time is it?”

“Barclay.” you remind him, your efforts award you a shrug, “and are you serious? Because making me late for work wouldn't be very funny.”

“I'm serious, you can go ask him yourself.” his face flushes as he shovels a spoonful of Captain Crunch into his mouth, “twey shed somfingu bot ah ahpawawgee for da kid”

Really you didn't mind that she hung out with you. But you would accept the apologetic day off for her attempting to give you a love life. You aren't one of her gossip stories nor do you wish to be.

“First, gross dude. Second, I'll take it.”

He snorts, “Watching me chew through the hole in my face is ne-neat but me talking with my mouth full is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly I never even thought of that.”

“I'll get out of your hair after I finish eating.” you finally say when the two of you calm.

“...you don't have to do that. I-i thought we cou-cou-could hang out?” he says sheepishly.

“I'd like that! Did you have something in mind?”

Yup, Barclay is so gonna ban Toby from the lodge.

“Thank you Connor.” you whisper to the dog before he attacks the bowl.

“Is there...what's there to do here?”

“Wanna go get a slushy?”

Toby's brown eyes cut as he stares at you unimpressed.

“I kno-rrow that we're in a small town but, 's not that small.”

“Oh no it's actually smaller.”

Thankfully you aren't one to leave a friend in the dark.

“Tobias, the gas station Tim works at is the only one for this town.”

“That can't be right, it's not even in town. What about...” once again Toby's eyes shift as he tries to think of any other gas stations within Kepler.

“Shut it.”

“Didn't say anything.” he smirks.

His smiles are really growing on you. They feel special and very genuine despite the awkward nature of his facial movements.

“Hey wait, the mini mart doesn't even have a slushy machine.” he says as the realization finally sets in.

“Yea we have to drive to another town for one. So far Franklin has the best slushies but it's like two hours away.”

“Do you seriously drive two hours for a slushy?” the disbelief in his voice is thick, but not thick enough to cover the thinnest hint of amusement. Maybe even pity.

“Not all the time, sometimes its only like thirty. One night I actually drove five hours without realizing it...though to be fair I did get lost.”

Coming back to the present in time to catch Toby flopping back on the mattress his curls bouncing up over his face as he did so. He let's out an exaggerated groan.

“Still, Brian's got the car today.”

Pfft that's not an issue.

“I have a car.” you say plainly.

“Uh..I, that's not really the...” well maybe he hadn't collected himself that much.

“You can drive.” dark brown eyes are on you the instant the words spill from your lips, “You've driven my car before. Plus I don't mind I like not driving.”

His eyes dart from you to Connor and back up into your face. Even though they're darting slightly you know he isn't such evaluating your expression. He's thinking and weighing his options.

“You sure?”

And with no hesitation at all, “Absolutely, you've driven it before.”

“Ok then...let's go?”

Seeing as it's just the bowls and spoons in the sink you decide you can wash them before placing them in the sanitizer rack.

“Mornin'.”

“Good morning.”

“Basket's on the table.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I help you?” you raise a brow at him. Clearly he had something more he wanted to say.

“I, I just thought we were closer than that.” he sighs.

Okay what now? Your confusion goes ignored as he continues to speak.

“Seriously YN, you didn't need to sneak away last night if you wanted to spend the night here, and with your boyfriend. I wouldn't have judged.”

“My who? Tobais? He's a friend!” you whisper scream in case Toby is near by. God could at least save one of you this embarrassment.

“Really YN? From the things I'm hearin' you two are a bit more than friends.”

“Ok seriously where are you getting your info from? We haven't done anything. Like just YESTERDAY we agreed we were friends. We've known each other maybe a month?!”

“He's neurodivergent!” you say bringing your palms up in front of you.

“So are Jake and Aubrey.”

“And I high five Jake so much.” throwing your arms outward to indicate how much you two high five. “Plus he gets a hug nearly every time I see him.” hands brought back to emphasis this point.

Barclay thinks on that for a bit, “Point taken,” he stands from his hunched position and crosses his arms over his chest, “so y'all aren't dating? Nothin' happened last night?”

“No and no.”

“Don't have to deep clean the sheets today.”

Barclay looks down at you scanning your face for something you aren't quite sure of. But you have a feeling he's treating you like a child for a very specific reason.

“I'm not a virgin.” you deadpan as the man before starts to sputter.

“Jeez sorry YN,” he does look it as he rubs the back of his neck, “it's just you've never shown an interest and I guess we all got swept up in the possibility of seeing you happy.”

“I am happy?”

“I mean in a relationship, happy in a romantic relationship.” He claps his hands gently on your shoulders. A touch you've gotten used too, had you not wanted it you would've taken a step back.

“Kirby's not in a relationship.” you point out.

“Kirby's gross, and you're adorable.” he chuckles at your glare, “a-dor-a-ble.”

“I will bite you.” he lets go of you with a laugh.

“We're just...trying to keep you safe.” he sighs, and though you don't understand what any of their weirdness has to do with “keeping you safe” you nod. Just to get this over with faster.

“Can I leave now? Tobais and I were gonna get slushies.” he didn't need to know your plans but you didn't want him assuming you two were sneaking off for a date.

“Yea yea, sorry for keeping you.” he leans against the counter as you grab your basket and head out of the kitchen and towards the main door.

“Keys?” he questions as you pat your pockets.

“You are a serial killer's wet dream.”

He opens your passenger side door and comes out holding your keys that had been in the ignition. If the blank look he gives you is anything to go by he's not impressed.

“I,I,I was in a hurry!” you say flustered that you did something so stupid. His expression doesn't change.

“Could you pop the trunk please?” you ask not looking in his direction.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

“Y'know what Brian's worse with directions.” he says more to himself than to you.

“Hey when you get to the Hornet's Nest swing right then drive straight, we'll end up on route 3 onto the interstate.”

“Hornets' nest?”

“It's a skate/stunt park. You'll see it after we get away from the mountain.”

Toby hasn't even let the song get thirty seconds under way. “No vetoed, we are not listening to sea shanties.”

“Wait wait wait, so you'll listen to folk punk but not sea shanties?”

“How are those even related?”

“They are literally the same thing.”

Not life altering secrets or deep talks...well until the question was favorite romantic comedy.

“How is Venom a romantic comedy?” Toby laughs after you answer.

“They kiss!” Toby just snorts.

“No Venom in Anne's body kisses Eddie.”

“Yes Venom kissed Eddie. Romance.”

You hear the murmur of 'oh my fucking God' come from Toby as you giggle in your seat. Having been egged on by that simple phrase you continue.

“Eddie is always giving Venom chocolates.”

“Oh yes, sorry, that's very romance.” Toby laughs out rolling his eyes.

“Thanks got it.” this time he turns on the blinker to get over into the exiting lane.

“What gas station am I looking for?” smart man. He's stopped asking for specific directions and is now asking for a land marker.

“Giant baby.” the car comes to a stop at a red light and Toby takes his eyes off the road to face you.

“...is this...will I just know when I see it.” “When you see it” you say the last part in unison with him nodding solemnly.

“Is that...”

“Giant baby.” you nod knowing he sees the giant opposum decal in the window of the beat up gas station.

“They have the four divide mega slush.”

“What the hell is that?”

With a coy smile you put on your mask and exit the car waiting at the front for your friend to get his shit together. He doesn't take long to follow you, Connor's lead in hand, into the gas station.

The face he makes when you stick the straw in the middle is priceless.

Toby demonstrates how a slushy should be made. Grabbing the single cup and over filling it with cherry flavored ice. He doesn't pick up a straw and you two make your way to the counter.

You take a long sip from you drink.

“I can't believe we drove for two hours for you to just wreck your taste buds.” a playful disdain in his voice.

“Not 'we', you.”

He cuts his eyes at you before shaking his slushy into his open mouth. Guess he couldn't use a straw when he was missing part of his cheek. No suction there.

“So?” you say adding the questioning lilt to your voice.

He shrugs, “It's good.”

“Worth the drive?” He shakes his head.

“Nah - drive made it worth it.”

#ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #creepypasta fanfic

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missweber · 7 years ago

Text

'A' is for...

On AO3

Summary:

The night of the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals, Kent learns that 'A' can stand for a lot of things. These include, but are not limited to:

Alternate. Ally. Asshole. Assumptions. Alone.

I've seen a lot of varied and interesting takes on Kent since the last update dropped, and the Kent you see here is just one of several possible headcanons I have for the guy. Basically, he's still pretty messed up, but has taken a few first steps towards getting better. YKentMV, of course.

NBC was about to cut to a pre-game interview with Bob, and Kent was still on the fence about whether or not it was a bad idea to watch when Swoops pulled him away from the TVs (sloshing beer all over the place as he went) and asked him what it would be like if Jack won the Cup tonight.

"And I want your real answer, Parser, not whatever line of BS you're already planning to feed the media when they ask, 'cause you know they're gonna ask. I'm your A, buddy. It's my job as alternate to look out for you, eh?"

"Huh. I thought that A on your sweater stood for 'asshole of the useless variety'," Kent retorted with a wink and a grin. In practice, the Aces' alternates didn't actually do much aside from planning off-season parties and cookouts. Not that Kent did much more than that as captain. He made a note to feel guilty about that later. Or not.

Swoops stared at him for a while, and he might have been having a little trouble focusing. He was definitely having to lean on a nearby slot machine for support.

"You still with me, Swoops? What is it?"

"What it is, is that it's way too early for me to be drunk enough I can't think of something 'C' stands for that won't make you want to knock my teeth down my throat," Swoops said. "Do me a solid and pretend I said something out-of-this-world clever that wouldn't have HR crawling up my ass again, okay?"

Kent laughed bitterly, knowing that most of the guys would have gleefully unleashed the homophobia or misogyny without a second or even a first thought. He gave Swoops a friendly shove. "Sure. You're a good egg, Swoops."

"Damn straight, I am. I'm a fucking brilliant - what'd that stupid inclusion video call it? Ally? Yeah, ally. Now are you going to answer my question, or what?"

"It'll be a good thing," Kent said after thinking it over for a bit.

Swoops gave him a dubious look over the rim of his glass, and even though he didn't press for an explanation, Kent gave him one. Well, part of one.

"If he wins, we'll be back on even ground, y'know? If the Falcs win, there's no way Ja... Zimms won't get the Smythe, the way he's been playing. Plus, it's pretty much a given he's gonna get the Calder, and Ovie only beat him out for the Richard by that one goal that shoulda been called off anyway."

Swoops groaned and banged his head (gently, of course) on the slot machine. "Jesus, Parser. Do not tell me you're going to try to hook up with that douchebag again. Just... no. The third time is not the charm here."

Kent didn't blame Swoops for reacting like that, even if the exaggerated shudder at the 'no' was kind of rude. He'd drunkenly outed himself to Swoops after the first Samwell visit, and Swoops was the only person who even had half a clue about how bad things got after that second visit. As far as Swoops was concerned, Zimms was Bad News.

"I miss my friend," Kent said. It was true. He did. Zimms got him in ways no one else ever had. He had felt safe around Zimms in ways he still didn't with anyone else, not even Swoops. "And believe it or not, I want my friend back."

"You've got friends here," Swoops grumped. "Are we not good enough for you or something?"

Kent laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before guiding him back towards the bar. "Sorry, pal, but you're a second liner all the way. Now come on or we're gonna miss the puck drop. Also, do yourself and everyone else here a favor and switch to water until second period at least. You're a tragedy waiting to happen."

That seemed to end the conversation as far as Swoops was concerned, but Kent's mind kept rolling with it even though he wished it wouldn't. He had finally accepted after that disastrous second Samwell visit (plus way too many 'healthy' scratches and finally caving to management's threats and seeing a therapist) that he couldn't make Zimms get back together with him, or be friends with him, or even be willing to talk to him again. Recently, he had even taken a few baby steps towards acknowledging the bitter truth that trying to get Zimms back may have instead fucked things up past the point of repair.

But was it a crime to want? To hope? To daydream?

There were so many ways things could go down, if Jack won the Cup.

He could call Jack to congratulate him and Jack would actually answer the phone. Or, Jack might finally feel like he'd proven himself and be the one to call Kent. Maybe they could meet up at the NHL Awards. Maybe they could apologize to each other and everything would be okay. Maybe they could be friends again. Maybe they could be more. Maybe things would start off slowly, or maybe - now that they could finally meet as equals again - it would all come back in a heated rush.

Or maybe Scraps (of all people - what the hell?) would sit next to him in a shitty sports bar and nervously pass him a phone so Kent could sit there in a very public place and watch Jack kiss some other guy in front of the whole fucking world.

Kent could have sworn he was watching from somewhere over his own shoulder as Jack pulled a blond kid into his arms. They kissed, and it was so much like what Kent imagined, what he had dreamed over the years, that the blond in Jack's arms became a reflection made solid and it was him Jack was kissing and all his wishes and dreams and fears had been captured and were being broadcast in full color even though he had tried and tried to keep it all hidden. Everyone was going to know about him, it was out, he couldn't stop it...

...and then a dozen Falconers swarmed the duo, with St. Martin hauling Jack into a hug and Robinson ruffling the blond kid's (not Kent's) hair and Mashkov damn near causing a wipeout because he apparently forgot he was on crutches and tried to throw the kid over his shoulder. And then all the WAGs were there, and the kid scooped up someone's toddler like he'd done it a million times before.

They knew. They knew, and they didn't care. They knew, and fuck, did that mean they knew about Kent? Did everyone know? Kent was getting lightheaded and he knew he should breathe but he couldn't, he couldn't move. He couldn't.

"Oooh, so he's gay or whatever? Jesus Christ."

Carl. Of course. Shit, shit, shit, of all the people to figure out Kent's secret, it had to be that sub-literate douchebro, but wait, no, he was talking about Jack? Yeah, he was talking about Jack and somehow that made it a million times worse. Swoops - Kent was pretty sure it was Swoops - said come on, Carl, but he was half-laughing as he said it, and it only made Carl double down and make some crack about the Cup parade.

It wasn't funny, but everyone laughed. Everyone. Everyone but Kent, and Scraps, who had gone kind of green and stuck out his hand for his phone. Swoops changed the subject by goading Carl to talk about his favorite subject (Carl), but he was still laughing like a hyena along with everyone else at that fucking stupid parade joke.

Kent shoved the phone back at Scraps and tried not to think about why the guy looked like he wanted to puke. He was probably going to wipe his phone down with hand sanitizer or something to get rid of the gay cooties from the video.

Kent stood up abruptly. "I gotta use the little boys' room," he said, half-hoping it would lure Carl into making another crack, one that would give Kent a halfway decent excuse to bash his empty skull in with a bar stool, but no one said anything as he stalked off.

He strode straight past the men's room and out the back exit. He wanted to cool off and take a deep breath, but the temps were still in the upper eighties and the exit emptied out right next to a very full and very ripe dumpster.

"Shit!" He kicked at a beer bottle that had fallen out of the recycling bin. It shattered where it landed several yards away but the noise from the Strip ate up his shout and the sound of broken glass. He picked up another bottle. This one, he threw. "SHIT!"

"Uh, Parser?" came a tentative and not very welcome voice.

"Go back inside, Jeff," Kent said as calmly as he could make himself. He waited for a count of ten breaths, but when he looked over his shoulder, Swoops was standing there, shuffling awkwardly in place and looking like he wished he was either a lot more sober or a lot more drunk.

"Y'know, the restrooms are inside, but if you were planning to piss on Carly's tires, I won't stop you. Hell, I think half the guys on the team wouldn't lift a finger to stop you."

Kent looked away and started walking. His car was only a block away. "Right. Just like they didn't lift a finger to stop Carl when he decided to be an ignorant asswipe. Thanks, by the way."

"Aw, c'mon, Parser!" Swoops sounded closer than before, which meant that he was following Kent, which, no thank you. "He was just being an idiot, like usual."

An idiot about something that Swoops knew damn well was a big sore spot for Kent. He'd seen how big of a sore spot it was. Twice.

"And everyone laughed at him - like usual. Including the guy who's my best friend on the team." He didn't stop walking. "I'll tell you what, that was a fan-fucking-tastic way to end this shit-show of an evening!"

And this was where Swoops should apologize or maybe just say whoops! and he'd try to do better next time. But no, that was not the kind of night Kent was having.

"What? So I laughed. Big deal! It just sort of happened, and it would have been a way bigger deal not to, you know?"

Kent stopped short and wheeled around, forcing Swoops to stumble back a step. "Pro tip - 'Not funny, dude' is a great phrase. Useful in hundreds of different situations. Learn it," he said with a jab at Swoops' sternum.

Swoops batted Kent's hand away, and looked him up and down with a curled lip. "Jeez. Lighten the fuck up, Parser. Like he said, Carly didn't actually say anything wrong before I tried to stop him the first time. And hey, at least I was eventually able to get him talking about something else, right?"

Of course Swoops wouldn't think it was wrong. It wasn't like Carly had said anything that was out and out false or blatantly homophobic, but even just thinking about trying to explain why it was wrong was profoundly exhausting.

Zimms would get it. But Zimms wasn't here.

"Yeah. Great. You made a passing attempt at being a decent human being. Gold star for Swoops!" he cheered, doing jazz hands for that little extra touch. "Happy?"

Swoops' face twisted into something ugly, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Look... I don't know what you want from me, Parser. I know the whole Zimmermann thing has got to suck big, hairy balls, but what - did you want me to tell Carly the whole sob story so he can walk on eggshells around you? I thought the whole point is that you want to keep this shit on the down-low!"

"What I want is to know that you've got my back! We're on the same god-damned team! You got the A this year, which means that you and me," he said, gesturing back and forth between the two of them and not doing a very good job of keeping his hand from shaking, "we're a team within a team! You're supposed to be on my side, genius! Not the side of some third-rate bench-warmer. Most of all, you're my friend, not Carl's, and what I want is for you to understand why I'm pissed off that you laughed at a joke he made at my expense!"

Swoops flung his arms wide. "He doesn't know you're into guys! He doesn't know you had a thing with Zimmermann! What I keep trying to tell you, dumbass, is that the whole point is that no one on the team knows!"

It was strange, how when anger spiked to a certain point, it turned into a calm, implacable clarity.

"Yeah, Swoops, you're right. But you know. And you don't fucking get it."

The calm was starting to sizzle away, and Kent had finally figured himself out well enough to know that if he didn't get the hell out of there right now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from saying things that would leave scars - and not just on whatever poor bastard he flayed with his words.

"Screw it. I'm done," he said before he or Swoops could say anything they'd regret. He turned and walked off. "See you later. If we're lucky, we'll both go home, get blackout drunk, and forget about this whole clusterfuck."

He was not at all surprised to hear protests and footsteps stumbling up behind him.

Kent lifted his hand to knock away the shoulder-clasp he knew was coming. "Do not fucking touch me, asshole!"

"Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you, Parser?"

Kent said nothing. He just kept walking.

What was wrong with him was that he missed Jack. It wasn't just that he missed the man he still loved (and who clearly no longer loved him). It wasn't even that he missed his friend.

What he missed was having someone around who actually got it. Someone who knew what it meant to have his back. Someone who understood that 'ally' was something you did and not just a label you slapped on like a letter on a jersey because you watched a stupid video.

He missed not feeling so fucking alone all the time.

"Screw you, Parse!"

Kent was pretty sure Swoops was flipping him off, but he didn't look back to confirm. He was pretty sure he knew how this would play out based on past experience. Neither of them would get all the way to blackout drunk, but they'd both wake up tomorrow with miserable hangovers. Swoops would come by around eleven with a jug of his secret-recipe Bloody Marys (the secret being extra vodka and half a bottle of Frank's Hot Sauce) and offer a hangdog 'we good, buddy?' by way of apology.

And Kent would say they were good, and he would pretend that they were, because for all that it was exhausting how much Swoops didn't get it, he was a good friend more often than he was a shitty one, and right now it looked like that was the best Kent could hope for.

He wanted better than that, though. Especially tonight, because he knew that this thing with Jack was like that slap shot that clipped his ankle a couple of years back. When it first hit, he knew it hurt like a motherfucker, but all it was: knowledge. The actual pain came after. Right now, the pain was like a boulder balanced on the edge of a cliff, and any second now it would come crashing down on him and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Most all, though, he was tired. God, he was tired.

He jolted into panicked wakefulness, however, when he rounded the corner. Someone was lurking with intent right by his car. A someone who had a good five inches and forty pounds on him. It didn't take long for Kent to recognize who it was.

"Scraps? What the hell are you doing out here, man? You need a ride or something?" Kent thought he sounded reasonably calm, but who knew what kind of speculation shitbags like Carl had indulged in after Kent left? What were the odds that someone had remembered the rumors about him and Jack and put two and two together, and shit, maybe he shouldn't have left after all...

"I - " Scraps started, and then his mouth snapped shut with an audible clack. Kent stopped a few feet away, not wanting to get any closer until he had a good feel for what was going on and how quickly he might need to get away.

Scraps was an old-school enforcer, the kind of guy there was less of in the league the more there were guys like Kent. He was a tough guy's tough guy, and he wasn't known so much for his skill as he was for having taken a skate to the face during a pile-up and then trying to get back on the ice as soon as the stitches were in. This season, he had been suspended twice. Two games for boarding that speedy little dude on the Flames and four games for cross-checking the Aeros' captain hard enough to break two ribs. He was the guy people pointed at first when they talked about 'typical Aces hockey.'

So why, Kent wondered, as he started walking towards the car again, was Scraps the one who looked like he was about to piss himself? Scraps was five or so years older than Kent, but right now it would have been easier to believe it was the other way around.

"I wanted to talk to you," Scraps mumbled, looking like he was trying to make eye contact with the rats in the gutter. "Sorry if I, uh..."

"No, no... It's okay, man." Kent slowed his approach, speaking softly and telegraphing his moves the way he did when Kit was in one of her twitchier moods. "It's okay."

He didn't really think it was, but Scraps wasn't shaking quite as badly as he had been a second ago.

"It's just, um, you got real upset when I showed you that video."

"Right," Kent said slowly, not sure where all this was going. Scraps still wasn't looking him in the eye, and he kept scuffing his hand over his head and swallowing hard every few seconds.

"But you also got real upset when Carly started joking about your friend. I mean, he's your friend, right? Zimmermann?"

"Yeah. We haven't seen each other in a while, but yeah." No, it wasn't exactly true, but this wasn't the time or place to get into all the gory details.

Scraps was slouched over and hugging himself, looking more like a kid who had just come up from Juniors than someone who had played his first NHL game while Kent was still a bantam.

"And it doesn't... I mean, you're okay with him kissing another guy?"

No, Kent really, really wasn't okay with Jack kissing another guy, but not for the same reason Scraps thought he wouldn't be okay.

"Zimms can date whoever the hell he wants," he snapped, daring Scraps to challenge him. What was Scraps getting at with all this, anyway? Screw it. He was pissed, and he was going to say what he wished Swoops had said to Carl Fucking Chadwick back at the bar. "And even though Falcs management is probably going to hand his ass to him tomorrow, he's got the same damn right to kiss his boyfriend after winning the Cup that St. Martin and Robinson had to kiss their wives."

And if you think any different, then go take a long walk off a short pier, you pea-brained troglodyte.

He was expecting to get some kind of stammering, insincere protest that still managed to be eighteen different kinds of offensive.

What he got instead was one of the league's most notorious goons sitting down hard on the hood of Kent's brand new car, covering his eyes with one hand and flat out sobbing.

What the hell?

Oh.

Heart rabbiting in his throat, Kent closed the remaining distance between him and Scraps in a flash. "Hey, hey... it's okay, man. It's gonna be okay. I promise. Now get off the car, because you're wearing jeans and the rivets will fuck up the paint. And can you please stop crying, because you're freaking me the fuck out."

What the fuck was he was supposed to do next? Should he ask Scraps to confirm what Kent thought? Or maybe he should chime in with a supportive 'me too!' (and yup, there was the automatic spike of nausea and panic at the thought). Or maybe he should just try to find some tissues somewhere because Scraps was wiping away snot with the back of his hand and that was just gross. And maybe he should stop trying to take refuge in wisecracks, even ones that didn't leave the privacy of his own head.

Or maybe he should just do what he wished Swoops had had the fucking courage and decency to do.

"I'm sorry, Scraps," he said, and the confused look he got from the other man was just heartbreaking. Whatever Scraps had been expecting from Kent, an apology certainly wasn't it. "They should give me the A instead of the C, because everyone knows A stands for 'asshole.'"

"No you're not," Scraps mumbled. "An asshole, I mean. I thought, well, I hoped you'd be okay with this. With me."

Kent took a deep breath, because bursting into hysterical, nervous breakdown-style laughter wouldn't help anyone right now.

"Someone should have... I mean I should have told Carl to shut his fucking mouth." And maybe he should have, but Kent had assumed it was just him in the cross-hairs, and why the hell would he want to draw attention to himself when it was clear that no one was going to have his back? "I'm your captain. I know some guys say all that means is that I'm the guy who gets to plan the parties, but I should've been looking out for you."

Scraps still wouldn't look him in the eye. "You didn't know."

"That doesn't matter."

If he hadn't had the first clue about Scraps, what else had he missed? Who else might have been in that bar, laughing to cover their own butts but also watching to see how their captain and alternates reacted? Shit.

"So it doesn't bother you, that I, uh..."

Kent raised an eyebrow. "Like guys?"

Oh, Scrappy, my friend, do I have news for you.

"Yeah. And, y'know," he said, voice cracking, "have a boyfriend?"

Kent swore he felt a circuit breaker trip in his brain. Everything he thought he knew about Scraps was rearranging itself so fast he couldn't keep up. Scraps had a reputation as a player because he kept coming to practice with hickeys in interesting places, and from the way he talked, he burned through girlfriends at a rate that assholes like Carl found aspirational.

Girlfriends no one had ever met.

Girlfriends he always managed to break up with right before family skate or the team Christmas party or the post-season cookout.

And, now that he thought about it, Kent couldn't think of anyone ever saying that they'd been to Scraps' place even though he'd been with the team since the expansion draft. He honestly couldn't say he had any clue where in the city Scraps lived.

"A boyfriend, huh? That's cool," Kent said, because Scraps was getting visibly nervous at his lack of response. Now what else were you supposed to say at times like this? "Uh, how long have you two been together?"

And Christ, the way Scraps' eyes went soft for just a second hit Kent square in the heart the way Kit had when he first saw her huddled in the back of her cage at the shelter.

"Since we were fifteen. But me and Donny, we knew each other forever before then, I mean, he grew up two houses down from me. I don't remember ever not being friends with him."

Kent did the math on that, and even if he got it a little wrong, he knew that Scraps and his boy had been together a long time. Longer than any other couple he knew except for Bob and Alicia. And given what Kent knew about the tiny Alberta town Scraps came from, it was probably nothing short of a fucking miracle that they'd gotten together in the first place and survived to tell the tale. Or not tell it, as it turned out.

"I'm jealous. No, seriously, man. That's awesome," he said when Scraps gave him a sidelong look as if not sure if Kent was teasing him or not. He really was jealous, but it didn't feel like it was going to turn poisonous.

Scraps nodded brusquely, like he was squaring himself up for something. "I want us to go all the way next year, Parser. I want us to win again, and then I wanna do what Zimmermann did."

"You should've been able to do that five years ago, and I'm so fucking sorry you couldn't." Kent wished it was otherwise, but he couldn't see the Aces reacting to Scraps the way the Falcs had reacted to Jack.

Scraps didn't say anything. He just rubbed at his scar, a nervous gesture that came out only rarely, and Kent remembered with a twist in his gut how insistent he was that he get back out on the ice or at least back on the bench even though his face was still a mess.

"First things first, though," Kent said when he could breathe again, "I'm gonna help you figure out how to get Donny onto your emergency contacts list, okay?"

Scraps startled the way you did when it felt like someone had just read your mind, but then he looked like he was going to start crying again. "Management doesn't know."

They don't know about me, either, Kent almost said. He still wasn't sure he wanted them or anyone else to know. He'd need to think about it, and talk to a bunch of other people first. His therapist, for sure. Bob, maybe. "Okay. So give me his number and I'll make sure that if he needs to know anything, he'll know it."

"Thanks, Parser." Scraps looked relieved, but drained down to the last drop. Kent knew how that felt. He wondered if he should tell Scraps about himself, but it wouldn't be now. Not on top of everything else that had happened tonight.

"Things are going to change, Scraps. I'm gonna make sure of that. I should've done that earlier, but..." He shrugged. But he couldn't have his own back. He couldn't be his own ally.

He sure as hell could be someone else's ally, though.

"But?"

"But I was an asshole. Plain and simple. I could've made things different, but I didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell Carl to shut the hell up. And don't say it's okay, because it's not. But I'll make it okay. I promise. Things are gonna change and when the time comes, you'll get to plant one on your boy at center ice if that's what you want. Or maybe you can go one better and put a ring on it. Now let me drive you home - you look seven kinds of wrecked. Where do you live, anyway?"

Scraps gave him the address.

"Boulder City!? Are you shitting me? You mean I've got to drive all the way to..." He slumped and tried to rub away the stress headache. "Argh! You know what, never mind. I said I've got you, so I got you. Get in the car. Why are all my friends are such freaking losers? Boulder City? Seriously?"

Someone else might have thought it weird how Scraps' face lit up at being chirped like that, but Kent got it.

They drove in a weirdly comfortable silence for a while, Scraps only interrupting to point out a better way to get to 215.

It was good to have something to think about that wasn't Zimms and whoever-the-fuck it was that wasn't Kent even though it was only holding off the inevitable collapse for just a bit longer.

But if he had a reason to keep his shit at least somewhat together...

"Remind me to call my therapist tomorrow."

Scraps startled away from looking into the darkness that had taken over once they passed Henderson. "Huh?"

"It's a long story, which I think you should maybe hear parts of, but not right now, okay?" Scraps needed to talk to Donny, and Kent needed to get home and cuddle with Kit and let himself break down for a little bit.

"Uh, okay?" Scraps had reverted to his usual state when not on the ice, which was pleasantly befuddled. "Oh! Turn here."

Scraps guided him through a maze of suburban streets. The general feel was upscale and private but not flashy, which was not what Kent would have expected. Of course, tonight had brought a lot of things he had not expected.

Kent finally pulled up in front of a faux-adobe house that looked like the kind of place you'd get if you maybe wanted to have kids some day. It was the sort of place you'd get with someone you'd been with for fifteen years.

Fifteen years. Jesus. He and Zimms had had less than a year as more-than-friends, and look how much it had fucked him up.

Scraps unlocked his door, but Kent reached out to stop him from getting out of the car "Hey, there's some stuff I gotta take care of tomorrow, but this weekend, I want you and Donny to come to my place for lunch or whatever. First of all, I need to see what kind of guy has been willing to put up with your ignorant ass for over a decade. Second of all, we need to talk about how we can start making things right. You want to come out to the team, right?"

"Yeah. If Donny does, I mean. But yeah."

"You do know that if you do, and it goes okay, you two are so going to get stuck with hosting cookouts for the team because it looks like you've got a sweet backyard there."

Hell, in a perfect world, they'd end up billeting a rookie or two, assuming the rookie was okay with driving out to East Jesus every day.

Scraps laughed and Kent thought that maybe everything would be okay.

He waited in his car until he saw that Scraps got safely inside. He got a brief, shadowed glimpse of a large man pulling Scraps inside and into a hug before the door closed behind them.

Kent punched his own address into his GPS because suburbs always confused and annoyed him. Then, he hit the road.

He could feel the thing with Zimms pushing at his head like the first pulses of a migraine, but his mind was whirling with enough other stuff to keep it at bay for the next little while at least. He started making a list.

First, he'd text his therapist a few details the minute he got home. Once she saw what it was about, Elaine would clear the decks for a phone appointment, no questions asked. Hell, if she'd watched the game or even just the news about the game, she was probably planning to call him if he didn't get in touch by tomorrow.

Next, he'd text Swoops and tell him to show up no earlier than eleven with a double batch of his special Bloody Marys. If Swoops was too hungover to drive or decided he was still pissed off at Kent about tonight, then Kent knew where Swoops lived and where he kept his spare key. He also had an air horn and he was not afraid to use it.

One way or another, they were going to have a little talk about what it meant to be a captain and what Kent would be expecting of his alternate captains going forward. They would also talk about how being an ally wasn't just not saying shit that would get you a fine for unsportsmanlike conduct. And then, if all went well, the two of them could gang up on Link and either get him with the program or find ways to make his life a living hell.

(He made a mental note to talk to Elaine about what to do if things didn't go well and Swoops decided to be an asshole after all.)

No matter what happened, though, things were going to change. They were already changing because of Jack, and it was long past time they changed because of Kent.

Fifteen years. How many other guys were out there in the league right now who were just like him or Scraps? How many had there been over the past hundred years? He shuddered. If he thought too much about it, he was going to be sick.

He was able to keep his thoughts down to a dull roar for the rest of the drive home and then up from the parking garage to his condo. Even before he got the door open, Kit was yowling like she'd been abandoned for weeks.

It wasn't until he scooped her up and she was purring like a cement mixer and butting her head up under his chin like she was trying to crawl inside his head that something finally struck him. He'd been so busy bracing himself for the inevitable breakdown about Zimms that he'd missed something else completely. Something big.

It was so freaking huge that he wondered why he hadn't seen it before, but now that he did see it, he collapsed back against the door and slid down to the ground because the sudden flood of relief was as overwhelming as any pain.

"I'm not alone, baby girl," he said as the tears finally came and would not stop. "I'm not alone anymore."

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #parse #swoops #scraps #tw: homophobia #lots of cursing because hockey players #parse is not doing well but he's doing better #discussions about coming out #dissociation and panic attacks #I'm not sure the world needs another post-3.26 fic #but I'm going to post this anyway #criticism welcome #but please don't be rude #also carl's last name is chadwick #just because

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