#sit back and do nothing while his husband & step kid r fighting for their fucking lives

[sacredpit]

kakyoin would probably be holding back tears meeting emporio because he’s the same age as jouta & considering he sends jouta to morioh so he doesn’t have to be in the middle of all the chaos & u know . see jotaro like that . he would just have a lot of feelings

[queenshelby]

Time for Change – Part One

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: None

Words: 1,193

Notes: Not based on Cillian’s life. This is fiction guys! 

The spring weather had finally kicked in and you celebrated the warmth of the day with a floral dress. Though modest, the dress was more revealing than he'd see your wear before. Sitting mid-thigh, it had thin adjustable straps and a low cut and ruffled neckline. Your body was curvy, but strong; soft in the right places, and filled out that dress like no-one else could. The gentle breeze played at the dress' hem as you walked, showing glimpses of your smooth tanned upper leg. Your hair was long and fell is soft waves down your back and framed your face.  

Cillian admired your body and the way the dress moved with you as you approached him even though he knew that he shouldn’t have. He was married to your step-sister and he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. It wasn’t right.

‘Cillian, how are you?’ you asked as he welcomed you in with a hug and kiss on the cheek as usual. But he let his hand linger on your lower back just a fraction longer than he probably should have and, as he pulled away he wondered if you noticed.

‘Hey, uhm, come in and thank you again for teaching the kids’ Cillian said and your face gave nothing away and he moved towards the kitchen to make a coffee.

‘Is Danielle not home?’ you asked surprised, not seeing any sign of her. You weren’t particularly close and didn’t talk much but, usually, she was at home when you came around for the boys’ piano lessons. Being a music teacher had its advantages and you were always willing and eager to teach your friends’ and family’s children for free. Cillian and Danielle’s children were no different and, in your opinion, they were immensely talented and you adored spending time with them.

‘She is staying with her mother for a while’ Cillian huffed out before offering you a cup of coffee which you gladly accepted. You never met Danielle’s mother, although you shared the same father.

You dropped your bag by the front door and followed him. He could feel your eyes on his back and he wondered what you were thinking when he told you that his wife had walked out on him for second time within the past four months.

‘She just left you, again, without the boys? Why would she?’ you asked surprised, wanting to know how to handle their lessons. They were only 10 and 12 years old and you were somewhat concerned about the current circumstances.

‘Well, as usual, she left without any sort of explanation’ Cillian said rather frustrated.

‘Fuck Cillian, I am sorry’ you said, looking around for a second to make sure that his boys didn’t hear you.

Sitting in your usual seat at the counter you talked while he made your coffee, checking in and updating each other on your somewhat troubled lives.

As you sat on the stool chatting about your marriage troubles with your husband James, you leaned slightly forward offering him a perfect view of your ample cleavage, causing Cillian to blush.

‘I suppose life has it’s challenges, huh?’ you eventually chuckled and your soft laugh brought him back but the look in your slightly narrowed eyes was, for once, unreadable. He realised then that you had asked him a question, but he'd been so caught up in his musings that he hadn't noticed. But you'd definitely noticed him staring at your breasts.

“Uhm yes, it does” Cillian eventually responded and you sat up straight and you both ignored his lapse. He gave your your cup, and without warning or invitation you took your coffee to the lounge room. He followed you. You sat on the large couch next to the piano, tucking your legs underneath yourself as you sat. Your dress falling a little to one side, he again caught just a glimpse of your upper thigh.

"So, this is my plan for the boys, what do you think?” you asked.

“Pretty impressive. You should teach my how to play this” Cillian chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your piano skills are much better than you lead on Cillian. I’ve heard you play at Danielle’s birthday last year” you said, which was shortly after you moved to Dublin after having spent the past ten years in America with your husband.  

The reasons you sought to return to Ireland were your husband’s numerous indiscretions when working at a large corporation in New York. He had one affair after another until you had enough and requested a transfer back to Dublin, forcing him to break it off with his secretary.

You knew you shouldn’t have forgiven him, but you did it for your daughter who you had adopted six years ago, giving her the best life possible. An intact home, close to family.

But, what you hadn’t told anyone was that, two days ago, the last straw had been drawn when your husband informed you that he had to return to New York for two weeks to attend a business conference, a conference which you found out didn’t even exist.  

Cillian’s situation wasn’t much better than yours. Danielle and him had broken up on numerous occasions throughout the past two years and he thought that, by staying with her, he was doing the right thing. But this was no longer sustainable and he found himself conflicted about what he wants in life.

As your conversation about music and playing the piano flowed, you occasionally touched his arm. It was your innocent way of connecting with him, of showing him you were there. You meant nothing by it, but today your touch sent electricity through him, into his core and he had to use everything he had to resist reaching out for you.

Luckily for him, within less than five minutes, his sons arrived in the living room, ready for their lessons and Cillian got up and left you to it.

***

After about an hour, when you were ready to leave, Cillian thanked you for coming over and, again, you gently touched his arm.

‘You are welcome’ you said with a warm smile, causing him to take in a deep breath.

‘I hope Danielle is back soon’ you then said before continuing. ‘But, in case that she isn’t, do you want me to come over and cook you and the boys dinner tomorrow? James is in New York and I get a bit lonely at home’ you asked politely.

‘The boys are going to camp for three nights with the local football club’ Cillian then said and you nodded before, after a small pause, asking him whether he would like to come over to your house for dinner by himself then.

‘Uhm, I am not sure if that would be appropriate’ Cillian then said, already struggling being around you. The small touches and gestures were almost too much for him especially since, the last time him and Danielle were intimate, was six months ago and they’ve been doing nothing but fighting ever since.

‘It’s just dinner Cilly’ you reassured him and he reluctantly agreed.

 Tag List:

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[serendipitous-posts]

Sacrifice you for nothing

Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson

title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat

"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"

"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.

Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.

If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.

Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."

 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;

 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."

 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."

 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"

 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic

 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)

 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-

 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)

 "really don't like them. They suck."

(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)

 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)

 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"

  Foolish falls still.

(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)

 (it is somehow worse)

 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.

 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.

 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.

 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.

 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 

 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?

 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.

 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)

 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.

 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.

 And at least that's interesting

 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)

 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)

 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.

 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)

 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.

 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.

 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)

 He's just happy to build.

 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.

 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)

 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.

 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.

 They're gone in the next moment.

 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.

 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)

 He hopes it's a one time thing

 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)

 (because what would he do then?)

 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)

 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)

 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.

 Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.

 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 

 (he had been aiming for the neck)

 (not a fighter, that leader)

 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.

 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)

 And- and then-

 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.

 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)

 And at the same time-

 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.

 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."

 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.

 "Did you . . kill them?" 

 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."

 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.

 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods

 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.

 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."

 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.

 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."

 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."

 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.

 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."

 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"

 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)

 "-an exception."

 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"

 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."

 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."

 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."

 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"

 "To put it mildly."

 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)

 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)

 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."

 A long pause.

 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.

 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"

 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."

 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)

(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)

"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.

 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."

 A long pause.

 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.

 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.

 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.

[tired-bi-andreadytodie]

the ultimate wandavision Ralph Bohner theory:

ok guys, one other thing i realized last night while rewatching the halloween ep, is about the part when “uncle P” is playing with the twins and wanda and vision were having a “not fighting” with eachother.

and i’m gonna explain with various supporting shit why he is, indeed, pietro “peter” maximoff.

so sit tight.

going back to the reason they were fighting: Vision had pulled an off-script move. he was doing something wanda had no idea about, “he wasn’t supposed to” not be with them for the night.

i t  w a s  o f f -  s c r i p t. 

and many MANY people have pointed out how “uncle P” unlike anyone else, looked awkwardly at billy and into the camera, given how he shouldn’t have, considering the type of sitcom that episode was. 

but i haven’t seen anyone say whyyyy he stepped up to take the kids OFF-SCRIPT!! wanda didn’t want it. it wasn’t wanda’s story, and even after he came up and suggested it and vision agreed with him, wanda still didn’t want it. 

it wasn’t wanda’s decision or her story. it was off-script.

and that. wasn’t. fucking. all!

nobody, NOBODY in the town eveeerrrrr did anything unless it was what wanda wanted them to do, or asking for “direction” (like when herb, asked wanda if she wanted anything changed). EVER. (the only ones who did were, agatha, who is, well, agatha, vision, who is again, vision,the twins, that ONCE AGAIN, were the twins, monica, and dottie i guess, which were during the points of wanda being more vulnerable/caught off guard moments, and not just randomly and muuultiple times) and that was the whole fucking point. she was controlling them. 

BUT “UNCLE P” DROPPED THE “IT’S NOT LIKE YOUR DEAD HUSBAND CAN DIE TWICE” LINE!!!!!!!!

what the fuck. he wasn’t aaaaaaaaaaaaaat all supposed to say that. at all.

not a questioning and shocked shit like dottie, or an out-of-place question like monica, not being controlled and suddenly because of wanda being unstable coming to his senses for a moment, it was a witty and off-script comment, like he had been playing along for the whole episode. just playing along and being himself.

and that is fucking why wanda told the twins that “he’s not your uncle” and the whole “don’t believe anything that man says” thing. because it was a wtf thing to her as well. she couldn’t control him. and she felt like he was her brother. and that was an absolute off-script and wtf thing for the person that had been directing the perfect sitcom world of the century with nothing slipping her hand. she reorganized everything, everyday as she wanted, and then this happened. 

that’s why “don’t believe anything that man says ”. she is supposed  to be able to control anything that anyone says, right? UNLESS HE, TOO, ISN’T JUST A RANDOM PERSON, but is just as powerfull as agatha, vision, monica (after getting her powers) and the twins. 

this is it. i am never, ever, believing anything on him being “ralph BOHNER”, he is obviously peter and those liars can go fuck themselves.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 19

Title: Control

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007​

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

They converse in harsh whispers as they seek refuge in the pantry. Using the excuse of wanting to prepare food and drink for their unwanted and unwelcome guests and then leaving them in the living room. They’ve been bickering back and forth for half an hour; arguing about the Sarge’s appreciation and approval of chosen furniture and decor and Michelle’s distaste of the ‘mix mash’ of colours and themes on the Christmas tree. Her voice is enough to drive Tyler over the edge. The way it picks up in both pitch and volume when she’s vehemently defending even the most pointless or ridiculous of things, the Midwestern twang that becomes stronger and more noticeable the more annoyed she becomes, the constant tinge of self righteousness and condescension. She’s the classic narcissistic; infamous for her staggering gift of gaslighting and her ability to make herself seem like the victim despite being the quintessential bully and walking definition of ‘mommy dearest’. Through the five years they’d spent in Colorado, he’d tried his best to ‘mend fences’; extending the olive branch a handful of times in hopes of helping to both repair the relationship between mother and daughter, and create a bond between Michelle and her grandchildren.

They HAD reached a somewhat peaceful agreement; she’d attempt to tone down her hatred towards him and at least try and treat her daughter like a fully functioning adult instead of a hopeless, hapless child. But it had lasted all of three weeks; his involvement with Michael McMann and the subsequent threats against his family only caused the woman’s spite and hatred for him to grow. After that, she’d vowed to never forgive him for putting her daughter and grandkids in danger, and double downed on her belief that he ‘stole’ Esme away and somehow bullied and intimidated her into not only marrying him and giving him children, but returning to Australia. She refused to accept any responsibility for either her daughter’s struggles with mental illness or her horrible self esteem, and placed the blame solely on Esme’s shoulders; calling her weak and pathetic and insisting that she had married a horrifically abusive man and was simply too scared to leave him. He WAS a mercenary after all; he brutalized and killed people for a living. He was an alcoholic and drug addict; his brain unstable and volatile. His involvement in the job immediately made him a threat; he was strong and big and capable of tremendous and painful bloodshed. What would stop him from inflicting damage -or even death- on her?

“How the hell would I know? I’m just as shocked as you are. Not to mention totally embarrassed. My mother and step father know what we were up to; before you answered the door. I didn’t have any pants on! Just your shirt! They heard me talking about how you destroyed my underwear! Not to mention you’re not wearing a shirt and your back and ribs are clawed to shit and you’ve got the whole ‘just got fucked’ messy hair going on. Do you know humiliating this is?”

“I’m pretty sure they know we have sex. We have seven kids. I don’t think they’re going to be surprised that we fuck. For fun. Not just for procreating.”

“It’s one thing for them to know we have it, but it’s another thing for them to know we JUST had it. How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face around them? When they know I just got done getting railed?”

“Imagine if they knew you got railed TWICE. And besides, us fucking? Them knowing it? That’s the least of our problems. Your mother...who I fucking hate more than I have ever hated anyone OTHER than my old man...just showed up on our goddamn doorstep. And she’s planning on staying.”

“Well, Sarge did say they’re staying at a hotel.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it. But you know what? They’re damn lucky they DID get one. Because there was no way in hell I’d let them stay here. I’d pay for the hotel myself. What the hell, Esme? Why are they here? Did you know they were going to do this?”

“I never would have invited them here. And even if they HAD mentioned they were coming, I would have told you. I don’t want them here anymore than you do. I’m not the one blame for this.”

“I told you to call her back. Or text her. When it became clear that she wasn’t satisfied with your ‘thank you’ email and started messaging you and calling you, THAT was your chance. You should have got some fucking balls about you and talked to her. Did I not tell you? To get in contact with her? To avoid her escalating? Did I NOT say that?”

“You did,” she admits. “You DID say that. And I should have listened to you. I WAS going to call her.”

“After Christmas. When we got home. You should have done it days ago; when she started calling at all hours of the goddamn day. Did you really think she’d stop? That she WOULDN’T escalate? You know her. You know how fucked up she is. What did you think was going to happen when you kept avoiding her?”

“Not this!” She wildly gestures with both arms in the direction of the living room. “I didn’t know she’d just show up! There’s no way I could have known that. She always has a big thing at Christmas. It’s her chance to look perfect and come across as the most amazing mother and hostess ever. I didn’t think she’d ever give up the opportunity to do THAT. And why are you mad at me? This isn’t my fault!”

“You know what? It is. Because I told you to call her. So she’d stop her shit and leave us alone. And now look! She’s sitting in our fucking living room. On Christmas Eve. And how the hell did she even know our address? How did she know where we live? You can’t look it up on the internet; I made sure of that. So some asshole wanting a piece of me wouldn’t come after my family.”

“I don’t know how she found out. Someone must have given it to her.”

“Who would know? Riley? Riley would tell her to go fuck herself.”

“Maybe Riley told her dad and he let it slip somehow. I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t know HOW she found out. And yeah, maybe I should have grown a set and talked to her. My bad. But you being pissed at me is NOT helping. We need to be in this together. Not fighting and tearing each other apart.”

“I’m about five minutes away from totally losing my shit. You know what the last two days have been like. How I’ve been struggling. And now she’s here? If she ever wanted to give me a psychotic break, this would be her perfect chance. Just watch the son in law completely snap; prove to everyone just how big of a fuck up he really is.”

“You are NOT a fuck up. You never have been! And I know you’re struggling. I’m the one going through it WITH you. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I want her here? That is the last thing I want! But she IS here. And there’s nothing we can do about it other than suck it up and get through this together! And you snapping on me is NOT helping! I’m not the enemy, Tyler!”

“I never said you were. I’m just saying that…”

His words trail off as his attempts at damage control are ignored. Her petite frame intentionally bumping into him as she steps away; frowning when he tries to grab hold of her wrist and she aggressively yanks her hand away. He chooses 'peace keeping' in favour of escalation; giving them both of a chance to cool down. And he leans against the back of the pantry door, arms crossed over his chest as he watches her furtive search for something to feed their surprise visitors. The shelves are packed; extremely well stocked and organized. And while they bear a wide assortment of goods, she hastily rummages through things as if there’s nothing suitable; tears welling in her eyes and her entire body tense and her hands shaking. And suddenly he no longer sees a grown woman in front of him; the love of his life, his spouse, the mother of his children. She’s been replaced by a desperate and broken little girl so hell bent on trying to impress her mother; driving herself to the brink of panic and anxiety trying to prove herself worthy to a woman that would rather she’d never been born. And it’s far more painful than any of his own issues; an ache that claws at his heart and forms a deep, empty pit in his stomach.

“I’m sorry." Stepping behind her, he lays his hands on her shoulders and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I KNOW you’re not the enemy. And I sure as hell don’t ever want you to feel like I see you that way.”

“I know you’re going through a hard time and I know her being here is going to put you even more on edge. But I also know what will happen if we even attempt to kick them out.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t kick them out. It’s not like I’d say ‘get the fuck out and never come back’. I’d be a little more...tactful.”

“You think THIS is her escalating? Do you know what will happen if we even try to explain our way through things? Why it’s not a good time for her to be here? Do you really want to get into that with her? Considering all the things she’s already said about you? How she feels about you?”

“I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. Or how she feels about me. I don’t…”

“But I do!” She slams a jar down with even force to shake the other items on the metal shelf. Both her body and her voice tremble, and her chin and her lower lip quiver as she tries to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “I care what she says about you! I’ve always cared! Because it hurts! You’re my husband and the father of my children and you deserve so much better than that. And it fucking hurts when she says that shit about you!”

“Alright...easy now." Running his palms along her upper arms, he leans down to press a kiss to her temple; lips against the side of her head as both forearms come to rest along her collarbone. “Just breathe, Esme..." he draws her against him, squeezing as tight as her little body will allow. “...it’s okay…”

“I care what she says because I love you. Because I know what kind of man you are. Because I know what kind of heart you have and how much you love me and our kids. Because you’ve almost died for me. TWICE. Because she doesn’t know you like I do and she won't even give you a chance. And THAT hurts. To hear those kinds of things about the person you love more than you love yourself. Who SAVED you.”

“I never saved…”

“You did!” she interjects. “You saved me in every way a person can be saved. And you’ve been willing to die for me. Right from the start. And all she can do is hate you and talk shit about you and you have no idea what it does to me. What it does to my heart.”

“I’m sorry…” his lips brush her cheek, then settle against her ear. “...I never thought of it that way. I never thought about it hurting you like that.”

“I hate that she won’t even give you a chance. I hate that she looks at you like you’re some kind of horrible, evil person. That she treats our kids like garbage. I don’t care what she says about me. Or how she treats me. But when she does that to you? Or our kids? That shit kills me inside.”

“You’ve got to let it just roll off you, Me. Stop letting her have this power over you. Stop giving her that kind of control. It’s what she wants. It’s probably why she’s here. See how far she can push you. Try to break you. And I know you usually tell me not to react and keep the peace, but I don’t think I can. I won’t let her disrespect you. I don’t let ANYONE do that. So I can’t promise you that I won’t snap on her. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

She closes her eyes as she leans her head back against his chest; tips of her fingertips repeatedly gliding along his forearms. “I’m at the point where I honestly wish you would. I mean, maybe not go BATSHIT on her. I don’t want her calling the cops or child protective services. But I would seriously enjoy you going off on her within reason.”

“Baby, I will protect you from anyone or anything. I will stand up for you no matter what. You want me to flip my shit on her? I’ll do it. Want me to toss her ass out into the street? I’ll do that too. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. And I AM sorry,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, followed by her cheek and then her temple. “I didn’t mean to snap on you. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m an asshole.”

“You can be,” she admits, and he loosens his hold on her when she turns around to face him. Hands falling to her hips and then sliding around to the small of her back, fingers laced together. “But it’s rare. That you’re like that with me. And I know you’re on edge. I know you’re going through some real bullshit. And believe me, I would give anything to take that away. To make everything better for you.”

“I know you would,” he presses his lips to her forehead. “And I’m serious; I’d do anything to protect you. Against anyone or anything.”

“I know. I’ve always known you would. Right from day one. Even then you were pretty intense. When it came to the whole watching over me thing.”

“Well technically it WAS my job.”

“You were getting some good benefits on that job.”

“They were pretty damn stellar, I gotta admit. Who needs dental or prescriptions covered? I’ll take the five days of hot sex.”

“You were very well compensated for your hard work. Actually, I think you were pretty spoiled. I think you STILL are.”

“I am not going to deny that.”

“I’m sorry too. I SHOULD have got a hold of her. I shouldn’t have waited. This is just a huge mess. But I honestly didn’t think she’d do something like this. I know she’s crazy, but THIS crazy? What are we going to do? We have our things that we do. With the kids. We have our own traditions for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We can’t just forget about it all. It’s what they’re used to. It makes them happy. And to be honest? It makes ME happy.”

“And we’ll keep everything the same. I’m letting her fuck things up. For the kids or you. We’ll just go on with it. Do what we’re used to. If she doesn’t like it, fuck her.”

“You just know the kids aren’t going to be happy. The boys and Millie are old enough to remember how awful she was to them. Millie still talks about the time grandma said she was a mistake because mommy and daddy weren’t married when she was made. And Tanner? Tanner had nightmares for three years about you going to hell because you got me pregnant out of wedlock.”

“Well in all honesty, I was probably already going there because of other things.”

She stares up at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Not a very well timed one, but…”

“And what if she gets on Nugget about being antisocial? About needing sensory breaks? About needing his safe place and his safe person? I can guarantee she doesn’t give a shit about Autism and won’t bother learning about it. I bet she’s even in denial about. That she’ll say something like ‘there’s nothing wrong with him other than your parenting.’.”

“She says something like that? I WILL toss her ass out onto the street. Literally. Talk shit about my kid AND my wife? That’s not happening in my house.”

“Then we have Declan. A bull in a china shop. You know she’ll get on his ass about being too loud and too hyper and too active.”

“He’s a kid. He’s eight. And he’s got red hair. Of course he’s wild.”

“What about Brooklyn? She looks cute, but she is all daddy and she’s a savage. She will pick up on my mother’s bad vibes and she’ll open her mouth and all hell will break loose.”

“Babe…” he unlocks his fingers and moves his hands to her hips; squeezing tightly and softly massaging. “...you are working yourself up even more and that’s the last thing either of us need right now. Take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

“And then there’s Takota. Who is crazy shy and super sensitive and I already know he’ll hate her.”

“He’s in good company then. We ALL hate her.”

“You get her and all seven of them together? It’s a recipe for disaster. Especially the Tanner thing. Because TJ will go the fuck off if she even steps out of line with Tanner.”

“So what do you want me to do? Sneak the kids out of the house and replace them with imposters? Get the real ones back once your mom leaves?”

She sighs in exasperation. “You are NOT helping.”

“I think you need to calm down and just let shit take its course. Whatever happens, happens. We can’t predict what’s going to go down and stop it before it does. And you know what else we can’t do? Stay in here for the rest of the day. We went to look for food to make. We’ve been in here for half an hour. She probably thinks we’re in here having sex.”

“We SHOULD have sex. Really piss her off.”

“While I’d normally be right into it, I don’t think even I can get it up under these kinds of conditions. Your mother is kind of a mood killer. Remember how we barely had sex when we lived at her place? And then totally made up for it when we moved into the farmhouse?”

“I always thought you were saying no for other reasons. You always told me you were worried about ‘hurting the baby’.”

“You actually believed that?”

“You were very convincing. I thought maybe you were just super paranoid that something would happen to Millie. And that you suddenly got over it. You should have just told me.”

“The whole ‘honey, your mother’s voice makes me impotent’ wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. So while I love you and I’d love to be able to bang the shit out of you right now and have you making the kinds of noises I know you’re capable of, it’s not going to happen. We need to get our shit together and deal with this.”

“You know what I was thinking? Never mind getting the kids out of the house. WE can sneak out.”

“And leave the kids with your mother? I know I hate her, but I love my kids and I would not do that to them. Now…” placing his hands on her cheeks, he gently turns his face up towards him. . “...we need to get out there before she comes and breaks the door down. You gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“I got you, Me. I always do. We’ll get through this like we do with everything else,” he presses a kiss to her brow, then to her lips. “Together.”

*****

They make awkward small talk; brief snippets of conversation in between sips coffee and tea and nibbles of the assortment of finger foods Esme had prepared and laid out on the coffee table. There’s a lot that SHOULD be said; grievances waiting to be aired, hurt feelings dying to be brought to the surface, demands for both forgiveness and apology. But for the time being it’s nothing more than comments on the weather; the differences between the dry Colorado chill and the dampness that plagues the Eastern Seaboard. Five years have passed and no attempts have been made to heal both old and fresh wounds; Esme’s mother either in denial of her shortcomings and her responsibility in pushing her daughter out of her life, or simply refusing to accept blame or apologize for all the damage she’d caused over the years. For the most part she stays silent. Leaving it up to her husband to ask about the kids and life in Australia while she ignores the conversation entirely; spending her time glancing around at their belongings with a look of pure disdain. He even sees the way her entire body stiffens whenever he so as much shows Esme even the slightest bit of attention or affection; eyes narrowing and lips tightly pursing together if he gives her a reassuring smile or wraps an arm around her shoulders or presses a kiss to the side of her head. He knows the mother in law can’t stand it; any form of physical interaction between them or the way they’re so in tune with each other’s body language and facial expressions. Able to easily and effortlessly read each other’s awkwardness or nervousness and then doing their best to provide comfort and support.

He’s been hated since the very beginning. Viewed as the enemy who’d ‘stolen’ Esme from her family and somehow convinced her to give up her old life in favour of a new one with him; keeping her trapped by repeatedly getting her pregnant and intimidating and terrorizing her into staying with him. And while they HAVE had their issues and stumbling blocks, he’s never been THAT bad; refusing to follow in his father’s legacy as a domestic abuser and all around asshole. Even at his worst he’s always adored her; respecting her as the love of his life and the mother of his children. Any logical and rational parent would want that for their kid; someone who worships them and busts their ass to provide for them, who has proven time and time again that they’d willingly sacrifice their own life for theirs. But it’s never been enough. All the good going ignored yet all the bad being thrown in his face and used against him. And while he’s the first to admit he’s not perfect, he also knows that he’s not the monster even his own brain often makes him out to be.

“Do you still do what you do?” The mother in law addresses him, refusing to make even the smallest amount of eye contact.

“Not as much anymore. Now I have employees I send to kill people.”

Beside him, Esme clears her throat noisily and then reaches for a mug of tea that sits on edge of the coffee table. She’s been on edge since the moment she’d finally sat down beside him; nervously bouncing her leg up and down or swinging it from side, or chewing on her bottom lip or thumbnail. He’s done his best to step up and be her rock; tucking her into his side or taking her hand or running a palm over her hair. Little things that let her know that she’s safe. That he’s more than ready, willing, and able to protect her. And it gives him something else to concentrate on other than his own issues; caring for her forcing the dark and dire thoughts plaguing his brain to take a back seat.

Michelle tucks her chin into her chest and stares at him pointedly. “YOU have employees?”

“I own my own business,” he says, then wraps an arm around Esme’s shoulders and gives her arm a squeeze. “WE own our own business. We have for almost six years now.”

“A mercenary business?”

He nods. “A successful one too. Very successful, actually.”

“Tyler’s good at what he does,” Esme says, as she lays a hand on his knee and lightly squeezes; the smile she gives him one of love and pride. “VERY good at what he does. He already had quite the reputation before starting his own company. Now that he has? He’s extremely well known and extremely well respected and sought after. His guys are the best of the best. Second to no one. You won’t find people like that anywhere else.”

Her mother stares at her; a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “And you’re perfectly fine with that? Him having THAT kind of business? Making money by killing people? Or having others do it for him?”

“There’s more to it than that, Michelle,” he husband grumbles. “Way more to it.”

“That’s not all it entails,” Esme informs her. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about helping people. It’s about protecting them and defending them. It’s about doing what’s right. Just because you don’t understand it…”

“You’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand it now and I didn’t understand it twelve and a half years ago when you willingly ran off with a man that kills people for a living. That has so much blood and God knows what else on his hands.”

“That’s not all he did, mom. He didn’t just kill people. He’s saved a lot more than he’s hurt, believe me. But you can’t seem to grasp that because you’re too busy hating him for stupid reasons. I didn’t care that he was a mercenary. I was just as much as involved as he was. So stop making him out to be some kind of monster because you have some bullshit vendetta against him. Stop…”

“Let’s just try and calm down, okay?” Tyler suggests, his hand on the top of her arm as he pulls her into him; lips pressing against her temple, then her ear. “Just breathe, babe. No need to get worked up.”

“It’s typical of her, isn’t it,” Michelle snorts. “She’s always been over dramatic. Always blowing things way out proportion. How you’ve managed to put up with her for this long, I’ll never know. I’ll give you credit for THAT; being strong enough to hang in there. Mark sure wasn’t.”

“Don’t,” Esme warns. “Don’t you dare bring him up. Don’t you come into my house and sit here across from my husband and bring that piece of shit up.”

“He was a good man, Esme. You just couldn’t see that. You were too busy finding faults. It’s what you do. You get bored of people easily. Which is why it's extra shocking that you’ve made it this far. Twelve and a half years, seven children. Normally you would have pushed him away by now. I don’t understand the appeal, but you seem to. I guess whatever works for you…”

“You know what, it DOES work. WE work. And I know you hate that. I know you hate that I’m happy. That I got away. That I found someone that loves me. Someone that won’t let you control me and manipulate me and abuse me. That’s what it is, isn’t it. That’s why you don’t like Tyler. He doesn’t let you get away with your shit.”

Laying a hand on the side of her head, Tyler draws her even tighter into him, lips against her hair as he speaks. “I think you need to calm down, Me. Just try and relax, okay?”

“You really ARE brainwashed,” Michelle says. “You will defend him no matter what he does. No matter how much he drinks or how many pills he pops or how many times he puts you and those children on the back burner. You will always defend him.”

“I will. And you know why? Because he’s a good man, mom. He’s a good man and he’s a great husband and he’s an even better father. Only you don’t see that side of him. You’ve never been able to. You REFUSE to see it. You refuse to see how much he loves me and his kids. How he’d do anything to protect us. How he’s so willing to lay down his life for mine. You don’t see any of that. Because you don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you get some air?” Tyler suggests. “You’re getting a little worked up, babe. Just go and take a few minutes and…”

“I WILL defend him,” Esme continues. “I will ALWAYS defend him. I will defend him until my last breath. And you know why? Because he would do the same for me. He HAS done the same for me. No questions asked. So don’t you care come into my house and disrespect my husband like this. I spent years letting you walk all over me. And I refuse to let you try that shit now.”

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, Tyler gets to his feet; pushing into the soft flesh as a silent request for her to follow. “We’re going to go and step outside for a bit. Neither of us do very well when people just show up on the doorstep. And she’s a little on edge; Christmas always stresses her out.”

“It’s not Christmas,” his wife argues. “It’s her! It’s always her! And she just keeps pushing me and pushing me…”

His hand moves to the back of her neck, effectively steering her towards the front hallway. “Let’s go and get some air. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Only thing that’s going to make me feel better is that bitch out of my house,” Esme mutters, as she shoves her feet into her beloved -and hated, by him and the kids- Crocs as he opens the front door and gently pushes her outside. Smirking when he hears The Sarge laying into the mother in law; accusing her of being insensitive and intentionally ‘stirring the pot’ and to stop acting like the victim when she’s the one that’s ‘doling out the bullshit’.

Stepping out onto the porch, he allows the door to shut behind him, then lays his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “You need to calm down.”

“I can’t do this.” She shivers in the cold; arms folded across her body and her hands aggressively rubbing her biceps. “I thought I could. I thought I could keep my shit together; get through the next couple of days. I can’t even last two hours! Here I was worried that you’d be the one to lose it! Yet I’m ready to throw her out the front window!”

“I need you to take a breath and calm down. Don’t let her do this. This is what she wants. She wants to get under your skin and she wants to ruin things for you. Don’t give her that satisfaction, Me. You just give her power when you do that.”

“I can’t help it. She just gets under my skin and she keeps digging away and digging away. Until I can’t take it anymore. And she knows exactly what buttons to push! She knows the more she shit talks you, the angrier and more defensive I get. She knows that’s my weakness. In the same way that shitty people know yours is me and the kids. It’s why she does it; to see me squirm and get worked up and eventually snap.”

“Which is why you need to settle the fuck down.” He runs his palms along her arms, vigorously rubbing against the chilled skin. “Don’t let her do this. Don’t let her screw things up for you. For US. That's what she wants. She spent five years trying to tear us apart. She tried ruining what we had every chance she got when we were in Colorado. And if you let her get under your skin like that? You let her do that? You give her all the power. That’s what she wants. That control. Don’t fucking let her win.”

“I can’t stand when she talks about you like that. I know you have thick skin. I know you can take it. You don’t let it bother you. But think about what it feels like when someone talks shit about me. Or disrespects me. Think about how that makes YOU feel.”

“I hate it. It hurts. Makes me want to hurt them right back. Physically, usually.”

“You know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on. Well that’s what it's like for me, too. When she starts in on you. It hurts. Because I know who you are and I know much you love me and our kids and the lengths you’ll go to take care of us. To protect us. I’ve seen you on death’s door. TWICE. Because of me. Because you’ve always been so willing to sacrifice yourself for me. So when she starts on her bullshit…”

“She’s never going to see me the way you do. Hell, I don’t even see myself the way you do. But she’s another story altogether. You KNOW what she’s like. You know the hate she has for me and why she has it. So why do you let it bother you THAT bad? Just let it go in one ear and out the other, Me. Take it from the source.”

“I’m not like you, Tyler. I can’t just turn my feelings off like that. I’ve never been able to.”

“I don’t turn my feelings off. If I could, do you really think I would have busted my ass twelve and half years to get you out of Dhaka? If I was able to turn them off, I would have left you and Ovi behind and I would have saved myself. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone through what I did FIVE years ago. I don’t turn my feelings off and you know that. I take it from the source, babe. And her? She’s not worth my time. I don’t give a fuck what she says about me. She’s doing it to be petty. She wants power. She wants control. I won’t give it to her. And you shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Just let her walk all over me. Say shit about my husband. About my kids! I can’t just sit back and listen to that shit. I just can’t.”

“So stay your distance from her. As much as you can. Avoid being alone with her. Try not to get cornered into that kind of conversation with her. I will have your back no matter what. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. I DO know that. In the same way I have YOURS.”

“I don’t need you to defend me. Or protect me. Not against her. I've gone up against bigger and better and I’ve lived to tell about it. But fuck with family? Disrespect my wife? That’s not going to happen. And you need to trust me to be the one to handle things IF they get out of control. Can you do that? Trust me?”

“I always trust you. I always HAVE. With my life. With our kids’ lives.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He rubs his hands against her upper arms, then tucks her hair behind her ears and cradles her face in his palms. “I need to get your shit together, okay? I need you. To be my wingman. Or woman. I can NOT deal with your mother and eight kids all my own. There is no way I can survive that. So you think it can keep it together? For my sake?”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think so.”

“Because those kids are going to be home soon and your mom being here is going to throw them off and who knows what kind of shit show is going to go down. Don’t bail on me, Esme. I need you. In more ways than one. In EVERY way, actually.”

“Finally admitting it, huh?” She chides. “Only took you twelve and a half years.”

“I know you’re going to try and argue with me, but I need you a lot more than you need me.”

“I don’t think…”

“Nope." He pecks her lips to silence her. "Not gonna listen. Not even going to give you the chance to finish that sentence. Because you know I’m right. You always talk about how brave and strong I am? Me, you’re the bravest and strongest person I know. That I’ve EVER known. The things I’ve seen you go through? Willingly? The things I've seen you deal with in the past twelve and a half years? The things you've done? Especially for me? There is no one on this earth that’s stronger than you, believe me. And you have no idea how much I really do love you. How much I actually do worship you and respect you."

“It’s only Christmas Eve and you’re already going to make me cry. Don’t you usually hold off until Christmas Day? When you do something so incredibly sweet and romantic and amazing?”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he grins, then tangles his fingers in her hair and gently tugs her head back; lips softly pressing against his forehead. “Just stick with me, kiddo. You’ll be alright.”

“I remember you saying those exact words to me. At Gaspar’s house. In the guest room. After we…”

“It wasn’t RIGHT after. And I was being an asshole. Because you made fun of me because you said I had gray hair in my beard.”

“I didn’t make fun of you. I said it was sexy. That it would look distinguished if the whole thing went gray.”

“Old. You said I’d look old.”

“Well I MEANT distinguished.”

“Sure you did.”

“And look, twelve and a half years later, and you still have the same amount of gray in your beard. A little more in your hair, mind you.”

“All those gray hairs? They all have your name on them.”

“You can complain all you want. You can bitch and moan that I’m stubborn and I’m difficult and that I’m a huge pain in your ass. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

He hates the feeling of dread that creeps in at those last three words; so simple and said in a light and playful way, but sending a chill that seems to borrow through his bones and travel right to his very soul. It’s his worst nightmare; facing a future without her and struggling to stay on the straight and narrow for the benefit of his kids. His old vices would return with a vengeance; the booze and the pain meds and suicidal tendencies. And then he’d lose any and all remaining links to her; his children torn from him because his demons and weaknesses would somehow overpower his love for them. But he manages a smile for her sake; never wanting her to realize just how much losing her WOULD actually destroy him.

“I don’t even like thinking about that.” His hands slip from her hair; sliding down her spine and resting at the small of her back . “Never mind talking about it.”

The smile broadens, and she perches her on tiptoes in order to wrap her arms around his neck. “I knew it,” she says, eyes sparkling playfully up as her body leans into his. “I AM your favourite. You do love me, Tyler Rake.”

“I do,” he confirms, and he lightly slaps his palms against the cheeks of her ass; lightly squeezing before drawing her into him and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “And you have no idea how much.”

[jbbuckybarnes]

Imagine

Raising children with Cevans.

Description: I wrote a super long imagine for @marmariavel at the beginning of the year and I thought I’d put it into a thing you all could read. The only thing I didn’t change was the bilingual aspect and some stuff I couldn’t flesh out more. Beware: Tons of sentences that start with “You” & time jumps. Pairing: Chris x german!bilingual!Reader

M A S T E R L I S T

You'd been together for a little over 3 years and he had proposed to you very on the down low at home after a beautiful day planned by him a few months before. You had talked about kids but you didn't really plan them soon. Well...you didn't think that your birth control would've just stopped working because of some antibiotics for your gripal infect a few weeks back.

He was gone for a movie for two more weeks and you sat there in the middle of your shared house in the bathroom, staring at the two pink stripes after being late, panicking and wanting to ease your mind...well, that kinda backfired.

You'd call a friend and go crazy for a minute or ten before they would be like "Yo, relax and let a doctor confirm it. I can come with you." And that's what you'd do that week.

You would get the confirmation and be happy but also super fucking insecure about it even though you knew he wouldn't have a problem with it. It's still your body and you didn't know how to handle it mentally. Your friend would just stay with you that night, take your mind a bit off things, eat Ben & Jerry's with you, and the rest of that program. And the next day you'd start planning how to tell him since you had two weeks to prepare for it.

So you kinda had the opportunity to make it a bit bigger and exciting but also not super big but like cute big. You decided to get some books about pregnancy, baby clothes and shoes, baby food and probably something Baby Captain America themed. After getting it in the mail you would start putting together a big box, neatly decorated so he could see all the things at once. At the center, you stuck the test. The outside neatly sprayed in a gender-neutral color and a few stickers.

You would start emptying your office room carefully and put the stuff in his office. He was used to you rearranging his whole house all the time so he wouldn't be super surprised by that part at first. You would put the box in the middle of the room and be super excited for him to come home.

You'd write to him that you had a surprise for him and he'd be like "don't tease me" and you'd dance around excited until he gets in through the door. You would run towards him with a big grin and he'd just bear hug you.

You'd take all his stuff away from him excited and tell him to leave everything right in the hallway and that the surprise couldn't wait.

So you'd drag him towards your old office, open the door and he'd be like "You rearranged again?" with a smile at you before you almost ran to the box, picked it up and held it out to him. "Open it." He'd look at you a little bit '???' but happy. And then he would open it slowly and instantly stop in his movement as soon as he had a full view of the inside of the box and his jaw would just drop and he'd eye all the different things in there and would be looking up at you speechless.

"Welcome to your future child's nursery." you'd smile with happy tears in your eyes before he would set the box down and envelope you in the best hug ever and kiss you and cry and mumble "I'm finally gonna be a dad."

He'd pick you up in the air with the biggest smile ever and ask you how far you are and you'd say something like 2 months and he'd jump like a happy little boy before setting you down, kissing you again and saying "Let's go through the box, plan what you want in here and order pizza, baby." he'd say with just pure love in his eyes before going onto both knees in front of you and holding your hips "Because Baby Evans needs to get strong." and you'd just burst into tears right there.

You'd sit down on the floor and start looking through the books together, talking about marrying a little sooner, your fears, your ideas for the room, names, public announcements, milestone ideas. You'd start crying every time he'd say "Baby Evans" or "Little Bean" or something. Hormoooones.

Also: "Now nobody can judge me for my big appetite anymore." "Or your giant sweet tooth." "I feel called out!" "Blame it on the baby." "Believe me I will. It's gonna be just like me when it's here. Constantly eating." "Two of those in my house. Can't wait for those food fights in a few years." You: *starts crying again*

You'd take at least one mirror picture per week. You'd tell your parents the following week. You'd tell all of your friends after inviting them over for a get-together. You'd announce it at the beginning of the fourth month with something Captain America themed. You'd plan the best wedding ever and marry in your early sixth month. You'd find out it's a girl and he'd be so over the moon to have a little princess that he could take to Disneyland all the time and dress up with. You'd make the room peachy orange-pink themed on one wall and have like a photo tapestry of clouds in that color on the other one. You'd get all the cute baby stuff over the time. You would do some rad maternity pictures that the internet would probably go crazy over. He'd push you to go and get facials and shit to relax cause he's a good husband. You'd learn about all birth stuff together, go to a pregnancy sports class cause why not.

He'd be relatively chill about the whole birth experience probably. He'd just read up on a lot of things and stuff. He'd get you all the weird things you crave, massage you all the time. Hold you when your hormones would go crazy.

Baby Evans would probably come late and doctors would want you to try natural things to start contractions so you would just dance through a hospital room and film it for the world later on. He'd be so sweet all throughout the actual pain and shit and you'd literally almost break his finger to be honest.

And the moment he hears a baby cry you just see his face switch. Like an actual "I'm dad"-switch.

He would go with them while they do all the first stuff with the baby and then you'd get it onto your chest and big hug moment and exhaustion.

While you would be sleeping he'd hold her and sit with her in the chair beside your hospital bed. You'd wake up every now and then and see him staring at her with sparkly eyes and count her fingers.

*mini sneeze* "Bless you, my little Princess." *mini sneeze again* "Don't look at me like that with your big cute eyes, I didn't make it tickle, baby girl."

You'd name her Amelia Jillian Evans. He'd be super good at changing diapers while you were still laying in pain. You'd take her home two days later dressed in a Captain America body. Obviously posting the news online then.

The first weeks would be exhausting but his family would help where they could with making your life easier. He was on Baby Workout duty since the little bean needed to learn how to turn around by herself and he would be so proud every time she did it. When she started being able to recognize you and started laughing he was just constantly carrying her around when you didn't have a grasp on her. She was definitely going to be a daddy's girl

When she starts crawling he's the first one to see it since it happens while he's laying with her on the ground and you were in the kitchen making food. "She just crawled!" he'd yell. You'd come running with a proud smile. "Show Mama what an independent girl you are Amy." She'd laugh and crawl a little more and you’d melt so damn much.

You'd raise her bilingual, and he's walking in on you both a lot when you talk German and understands nothing. But he tries to learn it a bit at least. "Are you two gossiping about daddy?" he'd touch her nose before giving you a kiss.

She'd grab his beard all the time and giggle and that would be his favorite thing ever.

As soon as she starts drinking from bottles he just takes her to the gym with her sometimes on days he knows it's almost empty and he doesn't have big weights. He just has the crawling blanket, toys and her bottle with him and just working out.

One day she would just look at him while he's doing push-ups with her right under his face to make her laugh and for his own motivation and she'd just laugh up at him and say "Dada" and he just stop in the middle of the push up with a jaw-dropping smile and say "Am I your Dada?" And she'd just giggle more and grab his beard again and say "Dada" before making one of those happy “baby moves all limbs at once”-dances on her back.

He'd drive home and burst in with her on his arm and you'd be confused and he'd be like totally in shook still "She said Dada." And right at that moment, she would say it again and you would melt.  And he would point towards you "Mama." "Mmm...ma." You'd giggle, "Close enough."

You would start seeing her pulling herself up on your furniture and from her baby bed and one morning just be like "If you also get to see her walk before I see it I'm suing." and he'd chuckle and continue drinking his coffee while you made airplanes of applesauce into her mouth.

You'd hold her hands and helped her walk forwards slowly while he was the goal they wanted to reach. You did that for a couple of weeks now and you gave her less and less hold over time and today you let her go completely and she walked three steps before landing on her behind. A few weeks later you were holding her hands one each and went for a walk completely proud of your little bean. "Mama?" She looked up at you and let go of Chris' hand completely and held her arms up so you picked her up. "Amelia?" you'd answer. "Müde." she'd say. Her first German word outside of the basics and you'd be over the moon smiling over at your husband that had a questioning smile on his face and you mouthed 'tired' while she laid her head on your shoulder.

By the way: Dodger would be protective and super chill around her. From the moment she came home the first time. He never nudged her, always just smelled and let her grab him sometimes even if it was uncomfy for him.

He would always be up to play with her over the next two-three years until she had her first big detachment phase. "Do you wanna play, Amy?" "No." and his eyes would be proud but also ouch.

She'd walk around in a princess dress and with a toy car most of the time and went to kindergarten a few days per week.

"Honey?" He'd say one evening hugging you from behind while you were cooking. "Hmm?" you'd smile at him. "I want another one." he'd mumble. "Are you sure?" you answered, "We still don't have our sleeping pattern back to normal." "I want her to have a sibling," he said kissing your neck. "Let's talk about that after bedtime, okay?" You'd say squeezing his hand.

By now she spoke both languages with both of you and Chris really needed to get his German game up. "Daddy?" "Yes, princess?" "Liest du mir Buch?" and in that moment, he knew...his child was more intelligent than him lmao. "She wants you to read her a book." you'd say from the next room. "Which one?" She'd pull out an easy German one but damn was it hard for him to pronounce it right.  You'd stand in the door frame proudly smiling at them.

The weeks after that you let her do a lot of sleepovers at friends. Was it a cover-up to get pregnant again? Yup.

And like three months later you both sat there together on the living room table waiting for the test. 5 minutes could be so fucking long. When you turned the test around and the second pink line was there he jumped up and almost threw you into the air. "You better pray to my vajayjay from now on," you'd joke. "Believe me. Already been doing that every day." he'd be like serious but also chuckling and you'd just hug so tight and squeak.

After going to the doc you would just send the ultrasound picture around with DJ Khaled's "Another One" over it. Cause you both are dorks like that. "Please stay Amy's rock, okay? I don't want her to feel left out when her sibling comes."

You'd both tell her that she'll get a sibling and she was jumping around and holding her hand on your Belly all the time.   You'd find out it's another girl. "Oh lord, three of them?" Would be Chris' reaction after the doc says it and a chuckle goes through the room. "A lot of food we need to have at all times." you'd laugh.

She would find it so fascinating how the belly moved. "When does my sister come?" she'd ask almost every day.

You'd have a trip to Disneyland together with her in a Cinderella dress and a Captain America Helmet. She was proud to have a superhero daddy. And it was good for paparazzi to not see her completely on pictures. She still couldn't hold the Shield tho. It was still like two thirds of her size.

You'd all eat so much in all the places there and he'd get her anything princess-like. "What do heroes eat, daddy?" "Whatever they want. Just like princesses." "But princesses only eat special food." "A princess can also eat a burger if she wants one, right honey?" he'd look at you. "Yes. Princesses and heroes both can eat whatever they want. It's super important to listen to what your belly wants, Amy." "What does your belly want, Mama?" "Two cheeseburgers, a salad, and ice cream." you deadpan and Chris would giggle.

He'd probably put a dress on himself just for her to see, that gender roles are shit. And school will shake that for her but he will make sure she knows that she can love 'masculine' things like cars, tech & science.

She'd probably be super good at math but also start drawing and writing early. You both would probably put her into a dance class but also let her try a sport that's a bit more like Taekwondo.

If she would feel in any way threatened she would use what she learned and say "You better stop. My dad is a superhero and he will kick your behind if you don't stop."

Your 6/7 yo daughter would kick ass so hard. Promise.

Then the little sister would come and she would be old enough to hold her and all that. You both had asked her for a name she liked and took that as a second name for the little sister. This one was more of a mommy's child.

Her name would be Chloe Jordan Evans and after the birth, you would be "You won't get more," to Chris completely exhausted.

You had already talked about not wanting more children after that but the steps of growing up were so much cooler now that a bigger sister could watch all of them happen.

You decided to raise this one on bottles mainly which made sleep a bit easier for you both since you didn't need to be awake for it every time.

Amelia & Chloe would not be revenge siblings as soon as Chloe could walk and talk. They were close and Amelia was very thoughtful and definitely into sports and science while also loving pink and stuff.

Chloe would be more of a singer and would love makeup and dressing up. She wanted to learn more about her daddy's job pretty early on and loved coming to little events of Chris' management. She was super extroverted and loved being around people.

But she still was super focussed on you with everything else. A mom's child.

She'd cook with you, play video games with you and loved going on walks when Chris was gone filming and Amy at elementary school.

She also was obsessed with Daddy dressing up. The shield was her goal. He always told her she is too small for it so her big goal was growing faster. The first time he let her wear it was with his friends being over and Seb or someone just being like "Just let her. I'm sure she is responsible enough to keep it safe, right Chloe?" And a heavy nod would come back. The shield went from her shoulders to under her knees and was clipped to her back. All the men in the room were just smiling at her. She definitely had the attention of the room as soon as she came in. She'd run around with the Shield on her back and a Nerf Gun and shoot all the men with the soft little things and they played dead. When you walked in you looked around confused but then she jumped out of her corner and pointed the Nerf Gun at you which made you put your hands up. "Miss? I need to arrest you." And you'd play into it and internally smile at 1. The shield on her back. 2. How good she was at this.

[abitnotgoodiebag]

Blur

Title: Blur

Square Filled: I1 - Did they or didn’t they?

Warnings: drunkenness and terrible mental gymnastics

Word Count: 2,881

Summary: Sam thinks he needs an aspirin, better yet, he needs to get up outta here.

Link to AO3

Blur

Sam groans as he swims back into consciousness.  Both his brain and his tongue are unpleasantly fuzzy and he wants nothing more than a cool washcloth, a cold glass of water and complete darkness and silence for the next decade.  He is too old to be drinking himself into terrible hangovers.  He knows the importance of staying hydrated and yet, here he is again, wishing for death to claim him. Sam can certainly say that he has never been the best at making good decisions.

As Sam debates the pros and cons of moving from his comfortable cocoon, he becomes aware of the sounds of soft snores uncomfortably close to him.  He feels the body heat of someone else underneath the sheets of his (is it his?) bed. He also realizes very suddenly that he doesn’t have a single stitch of clothing on.

Shit.

Sam tries to think of who could possibly be behind him snuffling softly in slumber.  The fact that he’s naked probably means that they are too and Sam could slap himself for the second time in as many minutes.  The pounding in his head doesn’t help at all with his mood and Sam may have finally found the reason to quit drinking altogether.  Waking up with strangers in bed is definitely something that is part of his twenties, not to be done when he’s staring at the front steps of forty.

Sam curses the fact that he is the first one to wake up and debates whether or not moving will wake his bedmate.  His memories of the night before are patchy at best and the more he tries to piece together his time at the hotel, the more alarmed he becomes.

-------------------------------------

It was the one year anniversary of the battle against Thanos and Sam would rather have been anywhere else.  The country was not as accepting of Sam as they had been of Steve. Sam didn’t want to think too closely about why exactly that was (because it was way too easy to get angry and what would that solve?), but there were days that he just wished his detractors would say what they really meant, and not use their carefully-coded acrimonious checklists on why Sam would never be Steven Grant Rogers.  Every single decision Sam made was examined under a microscope in the media. /r/notmycap can’t go a week without some viral thread castigating him and slightly less often, Bucky (It’s always the ‘Winter Soldier’ or ‘The Asset’ though, they seem determined to remind the world that Bucky had a violent and unsavoury past).

If the bad press wasn’t enough, the list of full time Avengers was embarrassingly short.  The Defenders did their own thing, as did Reed’s little group. It almost wasn’t worth anyone’s time trying to talk to Charles Xavier unless the subject was mutant rights (not that there was a problem with that, Sam definitely knew how stupid people could be around anything they perceived as 'different').  No one wanted to work with the reformed psychopathic (his words, Sam wasn’t convinced) mercenary, well, Peter was trying to tell everyone that he wasn’t so bad but Sam wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole.  Sam, Bucky, Rhodes, and Wanda were all that was left of the Avengers Initiative.  Sure they had emergency and consulting members, but the fact was, Sam was barely captain of anyone.

Sam’s cheerless thoughts had him spending his time at the bar, after quickly making the initial rounds to greet everyone.  He had to admit, Pepper knew how to throw a party.  While there weren’t a lot of full-time Avengers, Thanos had united the entire world against him, and so the rented ballroom (in the most fashionable of hotels) was full-to-bursting.  He scanned his eyes across the room taking in the small groups that didn’t quite mesh together. Thor and his new traveling companions, the Guardians of the Galaxy stood in a loose circle laughing entirely too loudly.  Thor finally found a group who also lacked inside voices, Sam was happy for him. He looked better than he did that day.  That too-long day that Sam went to battle in the fields Wakanda and ended the fight on the remains of their battered home in New York five years and mere seconds later.  

Sam was glad he wasn’t around to see Thor's slow slide into misery.  He had heard Steve (over the phone, Sam still can't quite look at his wrinkled face) tell him the stories of Thor’s grief at losing his father, brother, best friend, and planet within a week only to lose half of existence the very next day.  Sam couldn’t imagine that pain.

Sam dealt with a different sort of grief.  He had missed five years. Five years of his mother's life, five years of his niece’s life.  Unfortunately so had her mother, his sister.  Sam would never understand how his mother dealt with losing both of her children for five years, believing them gone for good.  His house and belongings were all long gone, leaving him and Bucky to scramble to find an apartment together in the aftermath on the ‘Unsnappening’ (fucking twitter called it that and unfortunately it seemed to be stuck).  He refused to put any more stress on his mom by moving back in when Kayla had to get used to her mother being back.  Besides, it was just easier to live with Barnes. He didn’t have any memories of those five years, as far as he could tell no one did, but he couldn’t help but feel it in his bones that he had spent the time with Bucky.

Shaking his head to dispel that line of thought, Sam looked for his best friend.  They had arrived together, as usual, but Bucky was quickly called over by Yo-Yo and Shaw, both of them eager to hang out with the soldier (he’d taken to being a SHIELD operative surprisingly well, all things considered, he even had work friends, Sam was proud of him).

Turning back to the bartender, Sam ordered an old fashioned.  He had recently discovered that between the two of them somehow Sam was the hipster, even though Bucky had refused to give up his ridiculous (fucking beautiful, if Sam was being honest) man bun.  Sam refused to listen to modern music (unless it was Beyonce, but really, it’s Beyonce it goes without saying) and read his paper at the table instead of staring at his phone all the time.  Sam couldn’t help it, he was an old soul and he had endured Bucky’s teasing goodnaturedly.  He absolutely drew the line at handlebar moustaches and penny-farthings though.

“Birdman number two!”  Clint said in what he probably thought was an acceptable volume, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam startled and grinned as he saw his fellow bird-themed hero.  “Barton! How is life treating you?”

“Can’t complain.”  He said with a cheeky smile as he leaned toward Sam and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “If I do, Laura will give me the old boot.  But I’d deserve it because she is the world’s greatest wife.”

“Damn right I am.”  Said Laura as she appeared next to her husband.

Sam sipped his drink and watched them bicker gently.  He loved that in a couple. Sure the schmoopy ones were cute and all, but life is always better with laughter and it was clear the Barton’s were full of laughter.  They excused themselves after two rounds, Laura saying that she was tired and Sam was once again left to his thoughts.

Before he could sink into them too deeply, his eyes landed on Bucky standing next to a scowling Valkyrie and taking a swig out of Thor’s comically enormous flask (Just because he was doing better didn’t mean that he wasn’t still struggling).  Sam smiled slowly at the blush that spread across Bucky’s face after his second long pull. Seems like Thor brought the good stuff.

Sam, armed with his bourbon and a liquid loss of inhibitions, (after the second old-fashioned, Sam wondered why he was even pretending to do anything other than get hammered and stopped bothering with anything more complicated) pushed away from the bar and headed in Bucky’s direction.  

“Hey there my good people.”  Sam smiled lightly as he reached Bucky, Thor, and Valkyrie.  “Is this the 5000 proof section?”

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly after his last pull and passed the flask to Val, Thor letting out a brief sad noise in his throat, knowing he wasn’t going to get another swig any time soon.  “Sure is, pigeon. This is the cool kids table and you can’t sit with us!”

“Ten points to Hufflepuff for correct use of Gretchen Wieners.”  Sam said as Bucky looked confused. Belatedly, Sam realized that they hadn’t gotten to the Harry Potter series yet, Bucky picking both Star Wars and Star Trek (every single iteration, Bucky was obsessed) instead.

“Friend Falcon-Captain!  It feels good to have a night of revelry with all of my shield-broth-”  Thor stopped, his smile faltering slightly. “My shield-mates! Let us toast!”

Sam tossed back the last few drops of his bourbon while Thor waited for Valkyrie to pass him the flask.  Bucky just snorted at Thor’s naivete and headed towards the bar to grab a less alien drink. He reappeared a minute later with three glasses and handed two to Sam and Thor respectively.  They clinked their glasses and drained half of their short tumblers as Valkyrie finally drained the flask.

Bucky and Valkyrie let out loud (and surprisingly deep) twin belches sending Thor and Sam into a fit of giggles.  Bucky joined in their laughter while Val just rolled her eyes and walked off in the direction of the bar, no doubt in search of a bottle or two to occupy her hands.

“What’s so funny?”  Shaw asked, coming up behind Sam and throwing his arm around Sam’s shoulder and resting his chin on the other one.  Yo-Yo circled around to bump robotic shoulders with Bucky causing Sam an immediate sharp flare of jealousy in his gut. Yo-Yo and Bucky shared too many similarities for Sam to not see her as a potential threat for Bucky’s time and affection.  

“Bucky was just showing us how to play the tummy pipes.”  Sam said, his words slightly slurred.  His laughter stopped abruptly.

Sam’s smile fell away and Bucky noticed immediately.  He glanced briefly to Shaw draped over Sam before he was somber as well, leaving Thor confused as to what exactly was happening.

“Oh-kaaaay.” Shaw drawled as he picked his head off of Sam’s shoulder, leaving his arm curled around Sam's neck.  Sam was confused, Shaw was Bucky’s friend, they’d met maybe 4 times total, but if Sam were to guess, he’d bet he was less intimidating to use as a prop than the once-king of Asgard or a super soldier.

Yo-Yo raised an eyebrow.  “It seems like we need to catch up with you guys.  I could smell you from a foot away.”

Shaw hummed in agreement even though he was clearly ahead of Yo-Yo too if his inability to stand up straight was any indication.  “Valkyrie went off for more, but I fear that she does not intend to share anything she finds.” Thor said, sounding vaguely disappointed.  “So I must go and fetch us another round!” He looked very proud of himself for thinking of that as he turned and strode away.

“He is amazing.”  Shaw sighed, “What’s his deal anyway?  Why doesn’t he stay here full-time?”

Bucky glared at Shaw and Sam watched on in confusion.  So now it’s not just Yo-Yo he has to worry about, now Bucky has a thing for Thor?  Sam (not for the first time) thinks sadly, that he’s just a man.  He’s no Inhuman, he has no enhancements, he’s from plain old Harlem, not some mythical planet, and he can’t call lightning with a thought.  He’s just Sam and maybe all he would do is slow Bucky down. So zoned out, Sam jerked when Shaw and Bucky laughed, making the room wobble unpleasantly. His obvious distraction just caused them to laugh harder while Yo-Yo’s lips curled into a small smile.

Sam, who realized he was the butt of some joke, flipped them off, making Shaw start all over again, finally taking his arm off Sam’s shoulder to cradle his midsection as he bent forward, cackling madly.

Thor returned with a tray full of shot glasses.  “Let us drink!”

“Damn big guy, you do not mess around, do you?”  Shaw sounded awestruck as he straightened up and Sam was not at all bitter about everyone’s obsessions with Thor.

Yo-Yo and Bucky grabbed two apiece, taking them in rapid succession just a hint of redness on their cheeks indicating that they were drinking anything other than water.

Shaw grabbed two shots, holding one out to Sam smiling wide, “Us normies gotta stick to our singles.  I can’t believe we’re more meat and no tech and still manage to be the lightweights.”

Sam laughed at Shaw’s dig, even as he seethed inside at Bucky leaning down to murmur something to Yo-Yo, eyes on Sam the whole time.  Thor ignored all of them in favor of knocking two shots back one-handed, looking disappointed at their flavor.

Sam, now unable to remember exactly how much he had already had, felt that being upright was overrated and sat down, hard.  Bucky glanced at him in concern, opening his mouth to ask if Sam was alright, but Sam glared back insolently and Bucky’s jaw snapped shut and he turned back to Yo-Yo who had been watching them in amusement.

Shaw grabbed two of the last four shots and again passed one down to Sam, shrugging.  “To bad choices!”  

Sam quickly echoed the toast and gulped the offered drink before clumsily getting off the floor, not finding it comfortable craning his neck up at everyone.  Yo-Yo ambled away, tray in hand, clearly off to refill it. Sam saw Bucky moving out of his peripheral vision, but by the time he turned his head to get a proper look, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

---------------------------------------

Sam squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes that the last person he can remember talking to was that irksome weirdo, Deke Shaw.  Bucky had left him at the party alone with Shaw, clearly chasing after Yo-Yo. Sam is gripped by a combination of self-loathing and envy that almost chokes the air from him. He will never forgive himself if he has tumbled into bed with that asshole.  This whole situation is entirely backwards. He’s pining after a grumpy, nerdy, absolutely gorgeous white boy from the past, not a strange, trouble-magnet from god-knows-when in the weird-ass future.  

Sam knows who he wishes it was behind him.  Every day he tries his hardest to be the best friend (who is he kidding, he’s doing a great boyfriend audition and has been for months) to Bucky.  After living together for almost a year, they have a certain bond, but not quite the type Sam wants.  He thinks Bucky wants it too, most of the time, but Sam knows better than to try and rush something before its’ time.  Sam’s father always told him that anything worth having was worth waiting for if necessary and James Barnes was definitely worth having.

The person behind him snores loudly once, before Sam feels a hand reach around his middle, drawing him back into a firm torso.  Sam freezes immediately, afraid to look down and finally solve the mystery. The body he's trapped against is mostly warm. Mostly, because Sam can definitely feel the not-quite-cool smoothness of what Sam will bet everything he owns is vibranium against his shoulder blade.

Sam relaxes and very slowly, smiles.  All of the hatred at himself for possibly ending up with anyone else leaves him as almost quickly as it came.  He can't wait for Bucky to tell him everything.  Or Thor.  Or even Yo-Yo, even though Sam will make Bucky do all the talking if that's the route they have to go.  Sam is willing to bet he has some interesting message on his phone if he bothered to check it (If it was even still on at this point, who knows how late in the day it is).  Knowing that he’s lying here with Bucky surrounding him makes the not remembering much easier. He has no regrets other than not committing every single detail of the previous night to memory to constantly replay over and over and over again.

Satisfied that it is indeed Bucky he’s woken up with (Sam breathes in deep and could slap himself, how did he not smell the traces of his own body wash?  Bucky is always stealing it instead of using his boring bar of soap and smelling himself on Bucky drives Sam crazy) makes it easy to let his eyes fall shut and let the hangover pass. His best friend (and maybe, hopefully, probably, finally more) is curled around him keeping out the noise and light of the world and Sam needs to sleep this hangover off.  He smiles to himself as he focuses on the soft snores and drifts into a peaceful sleep. Sam knows that everything is going to be just dandy.

[arcanesupern0va]

Rick In The Water; Ch4: Pornostartrek

Summary: W H E R E A R E Y O U ?

A/N: Awwww, shit, who wants some Rick POV? Is it you? Cuz that's what you're getting! What's that? You also want Rick to fight against feelings? GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR YOU THEN. ehehehehehehe. CW: Discussions of death, suicide and all manner of death Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 5329

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch3: Neon Moon|

I woke up one morning, two weeks after being dosed with truth serum, to Ryan sitting with his back to me, rocking back and forth slowly. I desperately wanted to just roll back over, to just ignore him and go back to sleep but he caught me before I had the chance.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” he said sadly, and my stomach dropped. My mind raced with whatever I could’ve possibly done to upset him. Sure I’d been spending most of my time hanging out in Rick’s garage, but with my entire day open ever since my salon had to let me go, what else was I supposed to do with my time? Nevermind the fact that I was becoming just as addicted to his presence as he had admitted being about mine, as though his admission made it okay.

“Uh, okay. What’s up?” I asked as casually as I could. I sat up, pulling the blanket up to cover my naked form to give him my full attention as he stood up and started pacing the room.

“Are, are you happy being married to me?” His voice was raw as he spoke. “You’re just never home, and when you are, you’re so distant. I’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore.”

I went into panic mode, prepping myself with my finger on the metaphorical trigger of Rick’s panic button. Was this finally the time? Was this going to be when he snaps? “Of course I love you, Ryan,” I murmured, but as soon as the words left my lips, I knew they weren’t true. I hadn’t loved him for a long time and no amount of mental dampening would ever change that. Unfortunately, judging by the look on his face, he was coming to a similar conclusion.

He never got the chance to try to confirm his fears as a portal opened up in our bedroom, Rick stepping through, looking at me frantically.

“Nova! Nova, I need you to come with me!” he pleaded, grabbing me by my wrist and pulling me up from my bed and toward the glowing green orb.

“W-wait Rick! Where are we going?” I demanded, yanking my arm out of his grasp to cover my now exposed nude form. He gave a frustrated groan, averting his gaze.

“L-look, something’s not right with Morty! I just need your help.” he explained, annoyance seeping into his panic.

“And you were going to drag me off to help him in the fucking nude?” I asked hysterically as I started digging into my closet, looking for something to return my dignity.

“Is Morty okay Rick?” Ryan asked, his voice dripping with concern. I pulled on a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, slipping on my trusty running shoes,

“He’s not going to be if Nova doesn’t hurry the hell up,” Rick said, panic taking over his voice again as he watched the window nervously.

“I’m here,” I announced. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

I followed him to the portal, sparing a glance to Ryan who watched sadly as I disappeared through it. I knew that conversation wouldn’t stay unfinished, but at least for now, I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

The portal dropped us into a small apartment, with Morty nowhere to be seen. I scanned the room, quickly realizing this was a den of a man who had all but given up. Old take-out tins littered the floor, mixed in with crushed beer cans and trashed gadgets. The room was dimly lit, making it hard to decipher much of the filth spread across the room, but I could make out a picture resting on a filthy pillow on an even filthier couch. I squinted, attempting to make it out but try as I may I couldn’t see anything other than a feminine figure.

“W-where’s Morty?” I asked nervously, but Rick’s face no longer wore a look of panic. Instead, a watery smile was spreading across his face as he gazed lovingly down at me before pressing his mouth to mine, kissing me desperately. I pulled away, shocked at the brazen assault.

“I missed you so much Nova; I thought I would never see you again,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine.

“M-Missed me?” I sputtered, pulling away from the desperate man in front of me. “Rick I just saw you yesterday. Circling back, what the fuck was that kiss?”

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes as he started pacing. “Goddammit,” he swore in frustration. “I just, I was hoping you and your Rick would’ve crossed that bridge by now,” he rambled, wringing his hands together.

“ My Rick?” I demanded, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nova, I’m sorry,” he raised his hand to my face, his wrist opening up to expose a small aerosol can. It sprayed mere inches away from my face, making my head spin. “I’ll explain, I promise. Just not right now.”

And everything went dark.

+Rick+

Where in the hell was Nova? Usually, when I saw Dipshit’s car pulling out of the driveway, she popped up like clockwork. I wracked my mind, thinking of something I could’ve done to upset her, and while there was more of a list than I’d like to admit none of it wasn’t recent or offensive enough to earn me her version of the silent treatment.

Maybe she had laundry to do or something. She’ll be here eventually.  

I turned back to my workbench, going back to the atomic speaker I had been working on, but I couldn’t quite focus. I had felt the alarm from rubbing her panic button, but it had been one of the many comfort alerts, nothing that would signify something was wrong.

If she wasn’t here in an hour, I was going to go check on her.

*+*

Ok. where the fuck is she?

I stormed up to the house, preparing to give her a piece of my mind for making me worry about her. Sure, I had only waited forty-five minutes, but my brain decided to take me down the dangerous path of immediately jumping to the conclusion that Ryan had done something to her. I rapped on the door, peeking into the windows as I tapped my foot impatiently. Her car was still in the driveway, she had to be home.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

My mind raced with images of her being knocked out, hurt or god forbid dead. I pulled out my portal gun, opening one to her room and stepping into it. There didn’t seem to be any signs of a struggle, but her phone was still on her bedside table. That was… weird. I sat down on her bed, turning the screen on to find a text from Ryan.

“I hope everything’s okay with Morty, we’ll have to pick up where we left off when you get back. I love you.” My nose wrinkled in disgust at the message as I tossed it back onto her bed, but its importance wasn’t lost on me.

“I hope everything’s okay with Morty.”

The fuck did that mean?

I opened another portal, this time into Morty’s bedroom. Summer meant the kid was still sleeping, so I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. He awoke with a horrified gasp as I glared down at him.

“Wh-where in the fuck is Nova?” I asked him urgently. Shit man, dial it back. She was probably fine.

Right?

“I-I-I don’t know?” he exclaimed, confused. “I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“So you didn’t talk to her or anything? Telling her something was wrong?” I grilled him.

“N-No!”

Well, fuck me running.

“Well she’s not home, and there was a message on her phone, hoping you were okay.” I spat at him, panic starting to consume me. I pulled out my flask, taking a soothing swig from it. If I wanted to figure out what the fuck was going on, I needed to keep a steady head.

“Why were you going through Aunt Nova’s phone?” Morty asked angrily.

“Everyday, Morty, every fucking day Nova shows up after her idiot leaves for work.” I shouldn’t have to explain this. Morty knows she’s at the house almost every goddamn day. “She didn’t show up today.”

“O-okay and? She has a life, Rick,” Morty reminded me viciously, “Maybe she had other shit to do?”

“Okay, that could be true Mo-uuurp-ty.” Pausing to take another swig, I considered his response. “Then what’s up with the text message. What- how are you logicing that one out genius?”

“I don’t know, Rick! Maybe she lied to Ryan, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Except with how docile he is, she doesn’t have to,” I shot back at him. Even though Morty’s explanations made logical sense, something just didn’t feel right.

“I-I-I don’t know Rick, maybe it’s just habit at this point,” the boy grumbled, climbing out of bed and pulling on his jeans. “I’m sure she’ll be over later, th-then maybe you can act like a clingy bitch to her and not me.”

“I-I-Wha-Fuck you, Morty,” I stammered, “I was worried about her, her fucking husband happens to beat her from time to time. Or are you going to keep ignoring that like everyone else in this fucking house does? Th-th-that makes me a clingy bitch? Paying fucking attention?”

“Uh, a little bit Rick?” He glanced over at his clock. “Ryan’s only been gone for an hour. You’re in full-tilt panic mode a-a-after an hour? Plus, if your mental dampener is working so well, why are you freaking the fuck out?”

“I said it wouldn’t work forever Morty,” I spat at him. “I-if his internalized, repressed rage becomes too much for it to handle, i-it’ll short out and it’s all going to come out at once.”

He didn’t respond, so I followed the boy out into the kitchen, letting my mind go wild with potential scenarios. Beth entered after us, an annoyed look on her face as she read a message on her phone.

“Dad, could you not be portalling into Nova’s bedroom?” she sighed, ”Ryan just texted me to ask, he said you scared the shit out of them.” She rolled her eyes as she tossed her phone on the counter. “What were you doing over there anyway?”

“I-I wasn’t there? At least, not when Ryan was,” I assured her. “I went over there looking for her, but she wasn’t there.” Her phone buzzed again and she sighed as she picked it up to read the new message.

“Well, yeah, he said you showed up, freaking out about Morty and disappeared with Nova,” Beth quickly looked her son over. “What’s wrong with Morty?”

Oh, fuck me.

*+*

“I fucking told you, Morty!” I shouted, dragging him behind me into the garage after assuring Beth her son was just fine, for now anyway. “How many times are you going to doubt my judgment?”

“When you stop being completely erratic,” he mumbled. “L-look, clearly one of the other Rick’s kidnapped Nova. Do- do you think it’s because they want something from you?”

“Yeah, and they’ve already got it,” I growled as I opened the small metal cabinet I kept all of my anti-Rick technology. Fuck, I didn’t want to have to explain this to Morty. Jesus Christ this was going to be awkward.

“Th-There are some Rick’s- on the citadel Morty- that developed a romantic relationship with Nova. Those Rick’s lo- care about their Nova’s like they’re the physical embodiment of a Blips and Chitz or something.” Attaboy Rick, compare her to an overpriced fucking arcade, that’s what she deserves. “So either you’re right, and they’re holding her for ransom, which would probably be an easy fix or some heartbroken stupid ass Rick lost his Nova and came for ours. And that asshole is no-uuurp-ot gonna wanna let her go.”

Morty processed a moment, before a look of confusion passed over his face. “I-I didn’t see any Nova’s at the citadel when we were there.”

“Well Morty, if you weren’t so n-narcissistically focused on yourself and all the other versions of yourself, you would’ve seen her. Sh-she was there, you just-- just had to pay attention,” I insisted. I could feel my throat tighten, her absence felt like a glaring hole in my side. I slammed the metal cabinet shut, tossing Morty an anti-Rick pistol of his own and downing the remnants of my flask before pulling out my portal gun, punching in coordinates for the citadel.

God fucking dammit.

I opened the portal to the citadel, stepping through and immediately groaning. How fucking narcissistic was I to have so fucking many statues of myself in one city? Morty hopped through the portal behind me, eyes wide with wonder as he looked around, still utterly fascinated by this hellhole.

“C-come on Morty,” I ushered him past a Batman Rick and Robin Morty as we cut down a small alley, headed to the one place I did not want to go.

The Council.

I gave the Rick at the front desk a brief rundown of the situation, as he typed into the computer in front of him and gave me a number. Seventy-seven of… thirty. Fucking bureaucratic nonsense. This was going to take forever. I refilled my flask at a complimentary cooler, taking a swig. Ah, the space equivalent to vodka. It had been awhile. I paced back and forth as we waited… and waited… and waited.

What was happening to Nova? Was she okay? What the fuck was the fuckwad doing to her? Jesus Christ, when did I become such a fucking baby?

Thirty-one.

Thirty-two.

It had been half an hour and only two Ricks had gone in front of the council. Why wasn’t this a higher priority? Didn’t those assholes have a Nova of their own? They didn’t deserve her if they did.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Another thirty minutes. At this rate, if the Rick that took her was going to do anything to her, he’d already would’ve had time to wine and dine her. Would she know it wasn’t me? I mean, there was no way for her to tell if he didn’t tell her himself.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-si-

Fuck this.

I barged in front of Number Thirty-Six Rick, dragging my Morty behind me as forced my way into the Council Hall. “The fuck are you doing?” Thirty-Six Rick shouted at me.

“Wh-whatever parking ticket you got will have to wait,” I told him angrily. He followed me into the hall, the five Ricks sneering down at us.

“Rick N-682, to what do we owe the honor?” Riq IV asked smugly. “Rick J-384, we’ll be with you in just a moment. return to the waiting room.” Rick J-384 started to argue, earning him a one-way ticket out of the hall, courtesy of the Soldier Rick stationed by the door.

“You assholes owe me after that Evil Rick shit,” I started viciously.

“You got your one free Morty coupon N-682,” Rick Prime shot down at us. “What more do you want?!”

“SomeRick came to my dimension and kidnapped the Nova from it.” My heart raced as the Ricks started murmuring back and forth, some wearing actual looks of distress.

“When did your Nova go missing? What is your relationship status with her?” Riq IV asked finally, his tone significantly less venomous than before.

“Sh-She’s my neighbor. Spends a lot of time around m-my house.” I did fucking not want to get all in my confusing fucking feelings about her with this asshole. “She’s one of the Nova’s that married Dipshit, what’s his name, Morty?”

“Ryan.” Morty sighed.

“She married Ryan.” I spat his name out. “U-usually she shows up every morning after he leaves for work but when she didn’t show up I went to check on her and she wasn’t there.” My heart raced as I rambled. “Beth got a text from Dipshit saying I portalled into their bed-bedroom and took her because something happened to my Morty, but I was never there.”

“Y-You let your Nova marry that fuckwad?” Quantum Rick asked furiously.

“I-I didn’t have much choice. I wasn’t around when that happened,” I admitted. “A-anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is someRick took her for Rick knows what reason and I have no idea where she could be.”

“Alright N-682,” Riq IV mediated, “Computer! Bring up reported Nova d-deaths in the past six months.” The huge screen to the right lit up with images of beaten Novas, apparently taken out by their Ryans, a Nova that was smashed in a car accident and countless other heart-wrenching scenarios.

“Wh-what the fuck are you Ricks doing to your Nova’s?” I blurted out, horrified at the images I was presented with. Morty covered his eyes next to me, unwilling to see his beloved Aunts in such horrendous situations.

“What is the likelihood of your Nova not knowing the Rick she’s with is not you?” Riq IV asked, pointedly not looking at the screen himself.

“H-How am I supposed to know? I don’t know what the asshole is doing with her!”

“Computer! What Ricks did the d-deceased Nova’s belong to?” A list of Ricks appeared on the screen, along with the cause of death associated. “Computer, run a filter for Ricks who’s Novas were killed unexpectedly but also romantically attached.” The list shortened considerably, only four Rick’s remaining on the screen. The computer printed out the list for Riq IV who looked it over before passing it down to me. “Here’s a start N-682. Two of these Rick’s live here on the citadel, the other two in their own dimensions. Keep us updated on your findings. Good luck.” I grabbed the list out of his hand, opening a portal to head to the first Rick.

*+*

“Y-Ya know Rick, seeing Au-Aunt Nova like that…” Morty trailed off as stepped through the portal to the first Rick on the list’s home on the citadel.

“It fucking sucks doesn’t it.” I hissed at him, unwilling to sort out how that might be traumatizing the kid,

“M-maybe it is good you did make that dampener,” he murmured. Ah, he was starting to see sense. It’s about fucking time.

“W-Well yeah. Like I said, I’m not the biggest fan of domestic abuse,” I relented.

“Oh give it up Rick, I saw your face too when those d-dead Novas came up on the screen,” Morty chided. “Y-Y-You looked fucked up too.”

“Wh-what do you want from me, Morty?” I asked venomously, stopping at the stoop of the small house.

“You care about Nova. M-m-more than you’re willing to admit,” he probed viciously,

“Wh-Whate-*uuurp*ver you say, Morty,” I dismissed, ending the conversation with an urgent knock on the door. Morty conceded but still eyed me smugly.

What in the hell did he want from me? Nova mattered to me, sure, but he was making it out to be way more than it was. Sure, I liked having her around, but if worst comes to worst I could just go get another Nova, they were just as replaceable as Mortys. Or Jerrys. Or hell, Beths.

Goddamn, you’re full of shit old man.

The door opened and a solemn-looking Rick greeted us disdainfully. I resisted the urge to blow past him and scream Nova’s name, hoping she would reply. Emotional thinking like that would only get us killed. Instead, I had to lie. But, hey, I was good at that, I lie to myself every goddamn day.

“Hi, we’re here on behalf of the council, may we come in?” I asked, putting on a very professional front.

“Wh-what do you assholes want?” he grunted in response.

“Just a moment of your time Rick,” I glanced down to the paper Riq IV gave us, “T-394. Just some routine questioning. In and out.” He relented us, leading us through his dingy home. My eyes scanned every room we passed, falling on a picture of this Rick and his Nova. It was obvious she had been the one to take the picture, judging by the irritated look on his face. T-394 noticed my pause and turned to look at me.

“She died a couple of months ago. Car accident on the citadel,” he explained thickly. “What did you want?”

“M-My Nova just went missing,” I admitted softly, before shaking my head and clearing my throat. “We were wondering if you had heard anything about anyone kidnapping Novas.”

“Why in the hell didn’t I think of that?” T-394 said, irritated. “Look, no. My Nova was the only person I’ve met that was even remotely irreplaceable. Besides, Ricks don’t let them go willingly. And for the Novas that never met their Rick, those are few and far between at this point.”

“The Novas that didn’t meet their Rick?” Morty asked.

“Most of the time, Nova ends up hanging around with Beth but there are a scarce few whose parents moved them across the country or Beth and Nova just weren’t friends. Rick’s that lost their Novas used to go after them, trying to rekindle the relationship but it doesn’t always work,” I explained, exasperated.

“How’d you lose her anyway? Are you sure she didn’t just run away? Some Novas do that you know,” T-394 scoffed.

“She didn’t- Nova didn’t fucking run away you dick,” I bit back, “Some fucking Rick appeared acting like he was me and said something was wrong with Morty so she went with him.” T-394 nodded but didn’t speak. “If I come back here, after going through all these other Ricks and she’s here, I’m going to kill you, you know that right?”

“You’d kill me if she was here right now anyway,” he retorted, unfazed. “I’ve dealt with my Nova dying. I moved on.” The look on his face, however, completely refuted his claims.

“Yeah, whatever you say. You better hope I don’t have to come back here,” I threatened darkly, pulling out my portal gun, pressing in the coordinates to the next Rick.

“Oh, fuck me, buddy.”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

*+*

The next Rick lived in a high rise in the city. Morty and I took the elevator to the top floor, ignoring all of the Rick bums sitting outside on the street.

“H-How are there Rick Bums? Aren’t they smart enough to just leave and go back to their dimension?” Morty asked.

“Life on the citadel is preferable for most Ricks, but some have a hard time making a life here. L-look, I’m not here to teach you ethics, Morty. Figure it out on your own,” I told him harshly.

“Jeez Rick, if this Rick that has Aunt Nova is in love with her or whatever, isn’t she gonna be okay?” Morty shot back.

“Yeah, that’s if Nova doesn’t fight back or do anything that could possibly be construed as an escape attempt.” My heart was racing again, and I quickened my step at the thought. “We don’t know anything about this Rick, Morty. He could be a fucking psychopath.” We approached the door, knocking urgently. The Rick that answered had long blue hair, and instead of the usual Rick attire, wore a long Hugh Hefner-esque cigarette jacket and lounge pants. Ugh, the upper-class Ricks were the fucking worst.

“The fuck do you want middle-class Rick?” he barked from the doorway.

I took a deep breath, trying to control my temper as I went with the same line from before. “We’re with the council of Ricks, may we have a moment of your time?”

“Fuck off. The council knows not to bother me,” he dismissed, moving to slam the door in my face. “You’re not from the council.”

I caught the door with my hand before pushing my way in. “No, I’m fucking not but someone fucking took my Nova and I am going to find out who one way or another.” Hugh Hefner Rick stepped back in shock, clearly not used to people standing up to him. He sighed, allowing Morty to follow us into his disgustingly decadent apartment. Long mirrors hung from the walls in a horrendous display of vanity, along with an advertising standee for Jerryboree. “Wa-Wait, you’re the Rick that came up with Jerryboree? I-I don’t give praise often, but that was ingenious.”

Hefner Rick shrugged, glancing over at the standee with irritation. “Y-yeah, bigger headache than I anticipated.” He walked over to a small stand with crystal bottles of various sizes and poured himself a drink. “Now what’s this about your Nova being kidnapped? How the fuck did you let that happen?”

“I-I didn’t let anything happen,” I roared. I was really getting tired of having to explain this over and over. “SomeRick came into her house, pretending to be me, told her something about Morty being sick, or hurt or fucked up or something and she went with him.”

“A-And you think I had something to do with that? My Nova died from an overdose,” he said flatly. A horrified look formed on my face and he continued, “This life ain’t for everyone. I can’t have someone that can’t hang holding me back,” he shrugged again, lighting a fury within me.

“Oh, so you’re one of those Ricks,” I challenged him, completely disgusted. Morty looked between the two of us, looking confused so I elaborated. “Most Ricks lo- care about their Novas, but then you have these assholes who use them and throw them away like garbage.” Venomous hatred was coursing through me as the Rick in front of me made no attempts to defend himself. He knew what he was.

“It is what it is,” Hefner Rick confirmed nonchalantly.

“Let’s get out of here Morty,” I spat at the other Rick one last time before opening a portal back downstairs on the street. I paced angrily once it was closed behind me. Morty watched me cautiously, trying to think of the right thing to say.

“R-Rick, we should probably get to the next one,” he said in what I assumed was an attempt at a comforting tone.

“Fucking dick. H-How do you just let someone like her just fucking die like that?” I shouted, drawing attention from the other Ricks and Mortys passing us on the street. “She deserves better than that. There are Ricks that would kill, o-or kidnap to have a Nova in their life. And he just- he fucking let her die? I should go back up there and kill him myself.” Ricks and Mortys were stopped in their tracks, as Morty pulled the paper out of my pocket, looking at the next destination. I let him pull the portal gun out of my pocket as he fumbled to punch in the coordinates.

*+*

As we appeared in this dimension, we were immediately greeted with its resident Rick and Morty. They eyed us suspiciously as I glared down at Morty.

“You’re not supposed to portal directly into a Rick’s garage,” I chastised him before looking back up to the Rick. “Rick U-679, I’m Rick N-682, I just had a couple of questions for you,” I told him, dropping all pretenses of the council. I was running out of time.

“I don’t have anything to say to you fucks,” he growled back at me.

“Your Nova died not too long ago,” I posited, ignoring his slight.

“Yeah, what of it?” he asked defensively.

“My Nova was just kidnapped and I wanted to know if that would be something you knew anything about,” I accused. It was either him, or the last Rick and my patience was running thin.

“I haven’t left the house in weeks. My Morty can tell you,” Rick dismissed, turning around with a wave of his hand. This dimension’s Morty nodded, rolling his eyes.

“He really hasn’t. Ever since Nova died he’s been hyper-focused on trying to figure out how to resurrect her,” this Morty explained,“We’ve even got her corpse downsta-”

“Shut the fuck up Morty,” U-679 shouted, delivering a blow to the back of his Morty’s head. “Look, I want my Nova back, I don’t want some fucking hand me down that doesn’t know me from the Rick she knew. Now, get the fuck out of my dimension,” he snapped.

I opened my mouth to continue, but Morty U-679 shook his head fervently. I rolled my eyes, portalling back to the citadel.

“This last guy, W-358 must be the guy Morty. Are you ready to fuck this asshole up?” I asked, pulling out my laser pistol, checking to make sure it was working properly.

“D-Do we have to kill him?” Morty asked hesitantly.

“For all the headache I’ve had to go through, yeah, I’d say we have to kill him,” I assured him darkly.

“It’s just- aw jeez Rick seeing those two Rick’s who lost their Novas, it seems like they were just hurting,” he reasoned, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem, Morty. It’s simple. You don’t steal from another Rick.”

“I-Is that all Aunt Nova is to you? A possession?” Morty accused me. I stopped my inspection to look at him, narrowing my eyes at him as I spoke with as evenly as possible.

“Of course not Morty,” I fumed, “Y-You just don’t get it, Morty.”

“No, you don’t get it, Rick,” Morty argued back. “You c-care about Aunt Nova. Why can’t you just admit to it?”

“I-I already did?” I shook my head at him, going back to my pistol.

“Y-Yeah, you try to make everyone think she’s just something of yours with your ‘my Nova’ this and ‘my Nova’ that, but you are going insane not having her here. I can see it on your face and in your rage about how that rich Rick, as you said, threw her away like garbage,” he ranted.

“L-Let’s just get your Aunt back okay?” I said dismissively, stowing my pistol back into its holster. “You can get all worked over feelings and shit when she’s safe.” I opened a portal in front of us, preparing myself for a fight as I stepped through.

Holy shit, was I unprepared for what I walked into.

Rick W-358 was perched at his workbench, slumped over the table. Oh, and his entire fucking head was disintegrated from the laser contraption secured with a metal clip to the side of the desk. Something awfully similar to the one I had at home. Jesus.

“H-Hey Rick!” This dimension’s Morty was calling from elsewhere in the house. I grabbed my Morty, pulling him out of view from the garage just as he entered the grisly scene. “Hey, Ric- HOLY SHIT,” he shouted. My Morty and I shared a glance as W-358 Morty screamed for his mom. I opened a portal, disappearing on the other side.

“H-Holy shit Rick,” Morty gasped, bending over a trash can to vomit. “H-Holy shit. Don’t you have one of those at home?” he asked me with a horrified look. “W-Were you gon- A-a-are you gonna-”

“N-No Morty!” I sputtered. “I mean, it’s there if I e-ever needed it, but I have no immediate p-plans to.”

“Jesus Christ, that poor Morty,” he lamented.

“Y-You’re missing the point, Morty. That Rick obviously didn’t take Nova,” I changed the subject, lest I end up losing my breakfast too. “So that means either one of the Ricks from before, or someRick completely different.” I sat down on a nearby bench, resting my head in my hands as feelings of hopelessness finally crashed over me.

“S-So we go back to the Council. O-Or, m-maybe you could create a device to g-go through each dimension to find her. There’s gotta be something we can do,” Morty reasoned desperately.

There was nothing Morty could say that would make me see sense, nothing. It was the gentle alarm going off in my cybernetic arm that finally washed those helpless feelings away.

Nova’s panic button was going off.

+Ch5: I Wanna Be Yours+

[stopforamoment]

Nothing New Pussycat (See You Next Tuesday)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks Word Count: 3,571 Rating: R for Language and Adult Situations TRIGGERS: Unwanted sexual contact, discussion of rape, rape culture, male dominance, use of the P and C words for female genitals, C in a derogatory way “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” Margaret Atwood

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. This was inspired by @kennaxval’s story The Queens of Stormholt part 5: Kenna’s Choice (NSFW) and by Hulu/Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. I’ve been catching up on episodes this past week! This takes place the second week of the school year, in September.

Crackpot Ear Worm: Tom Jones “What’s New Pussycat” 

He was a rich, arrogant, helicopter parent whose son did nothing wrong. He also didn’t give a fuck about his marriage vows, and he thought it would be an interesting challenge to conquer the American widow who wouldn’t take off her wedding ring. At first Rinda was oblivious. She was used to dealing with helicopter parents, and she assumed his false flattery was the first step toward getting his son out of an after-school detention that Rinda gave him. As annoying as that was, Rinda preferred that to what usually came next. The incessant badgering and, eventually, threats. Rinda sighed. Time to draw upon her professionalism and boilerplate commentary to get through this one-on-one meeting that he insisted upon. Rinda had been married, and to a police officer, so she was relatively safe for over 10 years. But she got complacent, thinking she would be respected at least for her status as a mother and widow, with the added bonus that she was in her 40s and past her prime. She honestly thought that sex would no longer be used as a weapon against her. Her gender, yes. Always. But sex? Well, maybe unconsciously. Okay, yes. She knew. But she had hoped that sex couldn’t still be used as a weapon against her. That was a small part of why she still wore her wedding ring and kept her married name. Most people would take the hint and know that she should be left the fuck alone. But she truly wasn’t prepared to deal with all of that bullshit again. . . . . .

Rinda was a warrior preparing for battle. She took the time to move her desk so she could sit behind it. That was a Power Move 101. She preferred to keep her desk against a wall because it took up less space, it was easier to throw her squish ball against the wall, and it was just easier to work with the children who needed to sit next to her when she tutored him. But not for this meeting. Bastien and Julian offered to help her move the desk, but Laura just laughed and told them to get the fuck lost. Rinda was in her woman hear me roar mode, and she didn’t need a man’s help. Although as soon as they left she did need to meekly ask Laura for help. Then she strategically placed chairs on the other side of her desk. Laura had to take her dad to a doctor’s appointment, so she wouldn’t be in the room. But Julian and Bastien would be in their rooms, ready to rescue Rinda if necessary. And Julian and his husband Theo would take her out for a drink afterward so she could defrag and repeat every wicked one-liner that she wanted to say but couldn’t. . . . . . He walked into her room, unannounced and 20 minutes early, which Rinda was expecting. But she was still helping another student. And of course, she was sitting next to the student, in another student desk, so she could help her. Rinda stayed seated in the too-small chair, looking up at the father and calmly asking to come back in 10 minutes, when she was finished helping her student. When it’s actually your appointment time. He informed Rinda that he was a busy man and his time was valuable. Right, so that’s why you’re 20 minutes early and harassing me when you could just wait in the hall and check emails or something. Professional Mrs. Parks nodded and related to that. She was also very busy, especially right now, and the sooner she could get back to helping her student the sooner she could begin their appointment. But he wasn’t leaving. She extricated herself from the student desk as gracefully as possible, calmly walking up to him, trying not to flinch. She hated doing that. Approaching someone simply to assert herself. She was 5’3” and really, if he refused to leave what could she do? Call in Bastien to escort him out? God, how humiliating. Needing help from the freaking head of security because there was a rude asshole who refused to leave her room. A man who was being shitty because she was a woman and there wasn’t much she could do about it. Remember, Rinda. You’re white. You’re cis. You’re straight. You’ve had amazing educational opportunities, and you’re comfortably middle class. Other people who deal with this shit have less privilege than you.

He ogled her. No other word to explain it. She stood and took it, hoping her body language didn’t betray her fear and anger. Even though she wore loose clothing and no makeup, it didn’t matter. Even if he was really thinking about last night’s football game while simply pretending to undress her with his eyes as a way to intimidate her, it didn’t matter. He was sizing her up, sexualizing her, dismissing her as a professional with post-college degrees and years of teaching experience. Every woman, every person who has been de-humanized, denigrated, and disparaged, has a way to cope with it. They have a plan in place to ensure their literal survival. When Rinda was younger she swore that she would go down fighting. That she would rather die than let it happen to her. Again. But now that she was older, a mother with a son who didn’t have a father, it was different. There was a lot more that she was willing to take if it meant she could come home to Henry when it was over. And really, being in your 40s with a wedding ring and a kid did make life easier. You were overlooked a lot. What a blessing. But not now. Now she was targeted. But fortunately he chose to wait in the hallway, and Rinda only hoped the young girl who was patiently waiting for Mrs. Parks wouldn’t subconsciously remember this incident. The time when her female teacher, the adult in charge, was challenged just because a man wanted to. Just because he could. . . . . .

When Rinda invited him in he closed the door after him. Friendly Rinda. “Oh, you can just leave the door open.” Cocky asshole with the smug grin. “Why? You don’t trust yourself to be alone with me in a closed room?” No, I don’t trust you, and you know it, you fucking asshole. How dare you try to spin this, as if I wanted anything from you except some basic fucking respect. Delusional douche canoe prick. Professional Mrs. Parks lying through her teeth. “It’s school policy.” Quickly get behind your desk. It’s a barrier and you’ll be safe. Wait, fuck. Did he open the door? Fuck me. He didn’t. If I let it go, he wins. If I open it for him, he wins. God damn this fucker to hell. Rinda motioned for him to take a seat and she opened the door. Julian was discreetly waiting in the hallway and he gave her an encouraging nod for support. She started to walk back to her desk. That fucker moved the chair so I’m going to have to practically grind him to get around him and retreat behind my desk. Retreat. Fuck this. She channeled an image of Justin Trudeau dealing with Donald Trump’s power play handshake. I’m not backing down from this prick.

She moved the other chair, the one on his side of her desk, further away from the man. She sat down, discreetly moving her legs to the side before crossing them at the ankles so there was no danger of her pulling a Paris Hilton or Sharon Stone. Mom taught Rinda as a very young girl to sit carefully and keep her legs closed so she wouldn’t show her Unaussprechlichen.  Rinda, you know. Rinda laughed to herself, realizing as an adult that the humor of that unspeakable word was lost on her mother. Grandma Lorinda would say vagina. Rinda, it’s a vagina. Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s yours, no one else’s. You can call it your Muschi, your pussy or cunt, if that’s what you want. As long as it’s respected and the words used to describe it are spoken with love. Crossing her legs. That wouldn’t be interpreted as discreet by a man like him. No, it would only draw his eyes there, to the Unaussprechlichen.  Crossing your legs at the knee, more sexual. You’re flirting. Crossing at the ankles, more demure and lady-like. But then you’re a prude. Thank God I wore a long skirt today.

He tried wheedling, he tried flirting. Rinda remained professional. She stood by the detention. He leaned in, but Rinda was far enough away that he would have to move his chair closer to invade her personal space. Ha! Score one for Rinda Parks. Oh, fuck. He really is moving his chair closer. Oh fuck, and he’s owning it, like it’s a welcomed advance, not his weakness. Rinda was sure her eyes were changing colors, that sure tell that she was afraid or upset. Hopefully he didn’t know that about her, even though it was hard to miss. Hopefully he couldn’t see how pale she was and didn’t catch her target glance to the door. God, how many times have women and other victims been in this situation, trying to gauge if they stood a better chance of survival if they tried to run or if they stayed still and took it. Rinda, you’ve got this.

He “accidentally” brushed her knee when he sat back down, his face dangerously close. Do I ignore it? If I call him out, will he laugh? Think I’m a bitch who’s playing hard to get? Tell me I imagined it? Rinda tried to stay focused, but she was livid. What if the roles were reversed? What if I just grabbed his cock and gave it a squeeze to assert my dominance? To get my shits and giggles off seeing another person squirm. How would that make you feel, asshole? Ugh. He’d probably love it. Spread his legs and force me to kneel, mouth open, to give him more.

The meeting ended with the usual threat that he would contact the principal, someone who was more reasonable and had more power than her. Fine. Whatever. Just get the fuck out of my face. At least he didn’t threaten her job or remind her that his tax dollars paid her salary. “I’ll have your job for this.” That one always cracked Rinda up. Bitch, please. You’ll “have” it? You want it? Go for it. You wouldn’t last an hour. Rinda let him stand up first. She was wearing a shirt with a high neckline. Nothing to see there and she’d rather be the one passively sitting, even if he was looking down at her, instead of the one standing and hoping he would get up to leave. He waited until they got into the hallway before overtly asserting his dominance. Maybe that was for the best. She wasn’t trapped behind her desk. She wasn’t trapped in the room. And really, it was comical how he thought he could just finish being an absolute ass, telling her that he would go above her head to get satisfaction, and then suddenly inform Rinda that he would take her out and show her a good time. He’d still get satisfaction from her in one way or another. He knew that she was lonely and needed a man’s company. And he’d give it to her. I’m way too old for this shit. Haven’t I paid my dues, yet? Isn’t that supposed to be a benefit of getting older and losing the bloom off the rose? Rinda laughed to herself. Her middle name was Rose. Damn that was pretty funny, Rinda. Okay, stay with it. You can’t use humor to deflect yourself out of this one. Rinda’s eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. Julian was staying late for her. His door was open and he moved his work station so he could keep an eye on the hallway. She looked over and saw him watching her. And even though she couldn’t see him, she knew Bastien was near. She always felt his comforting presence when he was near. Maybe he was in the room with Julian, or just around the corner. But she was safe. It would be okay. At least this time. She started by purposely misunderstanding him. Not that anyone could misinterpret that lecherous smirk. Of course she would be happy to meet with him and his wife, at school, if they’d like to further discuss the matter. No? Not at school? But she only met with parents at school. Oh, but this wasn’t a professional matter. And his wife wouldn’t be joining him. And now he was leering, and even though Rinda knew she would be physically safe because Julian and Bastien were there, she wasn’t sure which reaction would be worse for her career. Fight or flight. She was so thankful they were here. Refusing their help to move her desk, feeling embarrassed that the head of security might have to escort this man out. She didn’t care anymore. Her pride was so goddamn trivial right now. She was just so fucking thankful they were here. The reality was that she was a woman who couldn’t handle it by herself. And Julian and Bastien were strong men, good men. She wouldn’t even have to ask. One of them, if not both, would stay to make sure she got into her car safely. Even follow her home if necessary. God I hate being a woman.

And then she felt the nausea. Did men think that women were just playthings? Did he care at all about his wife? His family? Did he even care that she said “no” several times, that he was making her uncomfortable, that she was still in love with Jameson? That this asshole’s very presence was violating her? No. He didn’t care. That was part of his fun. Bastien was in the hallway, gauging the situation. He would be able to step in at any time, but he remembered Rinda’s reaction earlier that day when she was struggling to move the desk by herself. He knew why she refused their help. In any other situation he and Julian would have teased Rinda for being so stubborn. But they knew to let that one go. He knew Rinda could handle herself now, and he wanted to be sure Rinda knew that, but he was right there if she needed any help. The man grabbed Rinda’s arm and Bastien saw the golden topaz in her eyes. The look of controlled fury that shook even him. He thought Rinda was upset that this man touched her. He didn’t realize it was so much more than that. This man was arrogant enough to even think he had a chance to replace Jameson, even if it was for only the few pathetic, unsatisfying minutes he might last if Rinda would allow him to enter her. That’s what it boiled down to, for her. Not his disrespect to her, or to his wife, but to Jameson. Her Jameson was a hero who sacrificed his life to save Cassie. People who didn’t know Jameson only saw the gruff exterior. They couldn’t understand how someone as light-hearted as Rinda could ever see anything in a person who was so serious. But they didn’t know the Jameson that Rinda did. The tender-hearted man who would do anything to make Rinda laugh. The one who adored her. He was her beloved. When Jameson came home after a long day of work she would serenade him with her loudest and most awful rendition of Tom Jones’ “What’s New Pussycat?” just to make him smile And no one else knew that when Officer Parks came home he became Rinda’s sweet and silly Miezekatze as she kissed his nose, those laugh lines around his eyes, that adorable dimple, and his irresistible lips. How dare he think he’s anywhere close to knowing what it means to be a man. To replacing Jameson. . . . . .

Rinda could have extricated herself from his grasp with a basic self defense move. And she could have run away, knowing that Bastien would take care of the rest for her. But she didn’t. Instead she turned his wrist and brought her elbow up to the underside of his elbow. Anger and adrenaline gave her the power to deliver a strong hit to his elbow. There was a sickening crack and the man immediately dropped to the ground, cursing Rinda. Calling her a bitch cunt whore who didn’t know who he was. Who she just messed with. How he would ruin her professionally. How he would find her and make her pay. How he would wrap his fingers around her throat and enjoy watching her eyes bulge as he strangled her. How he would find her and make her pay. Tear her a new asshole. Fuck her until she needed a new asshole. He would destroy her. He would kill her. Rinda didn’t hear most of it. Bastien was already dragging the man away, the man’s rants fading down the hallway. Julian gently pulled Rinda into his room and closed the door while he called the police and paramedics.

Bastien reassured Rinda that it was self defense and he was proud of her for defending herself so well. Bastien truly meant it as a compliment, and he was impressed with her. But Julian and Rinda looked at each other and they both knew it wasn’t that simple, and that Bastien sounded patronizing even though it was unintentional. Rinda also knew that Julian and his husband faced discrimination and hatred far more often than she ever would, and she was so grateful to have him with her that night. Bastien could help explain the factual details of what happened that night. But Julian, Theo,and Laura were the ones to help her navigate the emotional strain of that evening, and they would know the reality of what really happened that night because she was a woman turned down a rich man with on a power trip. To everyone else, Rinda would be seen as unable to handle herself in a situation. She overreacted to a simple misunderstanding. She must have done something to upset that man. She wore a skirt and invited him into her classroom when no one else was there. She sat next to him. She flirted. She encouraged him. And then changed her mind. Like a typical tease. Bitch. She resorted to violence over a simple miscommunication. He’s a married man. Respected in the community. How could anyone trust her with their children? And he was a rich man with power who sometimes donated to the school. Rinda most likely would have to apologize. Best case scenario. The reality was that Rinda most likely lost her job and the safety reform suffered a crushing blow because of her. Even if she were allowed to stay, she would lose all respect from the families, and that attitude would affect the children and how they interacted with her in the classroom. Then she’d lose her job that way. Because she wasn’t able to do her job effectively. Because she was a woman who pissed off a man. . . . . . The night dragged on forever with the police report and statements. Rinda had to call a neighbor to take care of Henry for the rest of the night—feed him and keep him safe—because she had to stay late with something that was school-related. It was true, even though it was a lie of omission. Bastien stayed to deal with the last of the legal issues and some other work matters. He also moved Rinda’s desk back to its original spot and set her squish ball back in its place, where it was easy for her to grab and throw against the wall. He hoped that would make Rinda’s morning a little better. Julian and Theo took Rinda home, and Laura came over too. And once she had Henry safely tucked in his own bed they drank. And commiserated. And cried. . . . . . Rinda didn’t know Bastien was indebted to Queen Riley because of his involvement with the Tariq scandal. She didn’t know that it only took a phone call from Bastien to explain to Queen Riley what happened and why. That Queen Riley was personally involved in speaking to the man and ensuring that the entire incident was taken care of. That what he did to Rinda, he would never do to her—or another person—ever again. Not if he expected to retain his citizenship as a Cordonian. Julian, Theo, Laura, and Rinda never understood how she got so fucking lucky. Why he chose not to press charges. Why she wasn’t fired. Why she never had to see that man ever again. But Bastien knew. He saw what Rinda went through that night. He talked with her, when she was finally ready and trusted him enough. He listened to her explain her feelings about the situation, not just the facts. Then Bastien better understood. He better understood what he did to Riley that night, and he better understood the mantle of responsibility that came with the power of simply being a man.

[lolzcollz]

F R E E Z E

“Outta the way, bitch!” Damon pushed Timmy into the pile of snow the plow had created earlier. Timmy fell backwards into the snow and tried to push himself upright. He felt and looked much like a turtle stranded on its shell. He was unable to get his feet on the ground for the needed leverage which left him stuck flailing his arms wildly. All the other kids at the bus stop laughed at Timmy and when they no longer found enjoyment from his struggle they turned inwards at each other and made inappropriate jokes to keep entertained.

Timmy wiggled around in the hole, pushing himself deeper into the snow pile until he was able to put one foot on the ground, then the other. When he stood up the kids stopped talking and looked over at him, eager to see what would happen next. Timmy made no move at retaliation. He knew if he did it would end ten time worse for him. Damon walked over to where Timmy stood.

“Aw, look, the little bitch made it out of the hole!” He laughed and the rest of the kids joined him.

“Put him back in the hole!” Some kid yelled above the laughter.

“Yeah! Put him back!” A chorus of agreeing voices rang out. Damon took a step closer to Timmy which hushed everyone quickly. Timmy stared at his shoes and didn’t dare look Damon in the face.

“You want to go back in the hole?” Damon asked.

“N-no.” Timmy answered.

“N-no.” Damon mocked. “How about we do it like this?” Damon walked over to the hole Timmy had just removed himself from and unzipped his jeans. He freed his prepubescent cock and pissed into the Timmy shaped hole. The other kids watched him with awe. Damon shook his penis twice to remove any residual drops and tucked himself back into his pants. He walked over to Timmy and grabbed him by his hair. “You seem a little cold, Timmy. Let’s warm you up.” Damon threw Timmy backwards and he fell into the hole once more. Immediately the urine soaked into Timmy’s pants and underwear.

“Ew!” A girl yelled from the crowd. “Piss puddle!” She laughed and pretty soon after the rest of the kids laughed with her. Damon felt pride swell in his chest. He loved being the center of attention, though he did feel bad for Timmy. Timmy hadn’t really done anything to Damon. He was just the easiest target and Damon took advantage of that. A chant had broken out among the kids at the bus stop about Timmy sitting in a puddle, “P-I-S-S-I-N-G” which was quite unimaginative on their end and Timmy did not find it to be amusing. As he pulled himself out of the hole for the second time that morning, the bus pulled around the corner.  It slowly came to a stop in front of the children and everyone piled on making sure to cut in front of Timmy so he was the last one on the bus.

Most of students on the bus were also in Timmy’s homeroom. The kids all rushed past Timmy to get into the classroom and when he finally made it himself, he noticed one of the girls from his bus talking to Ms. Sain. Timmy found his way to this seat and sat down. His pants and underwear were still soaked from the snow and piss but he didn’t have any other options. The girl who had been talking to Ms. Sain walked towards her seat, giving Timmy a smirk as she passed.

“Timmy?” Ms. Sain called to him. He looked up. “Can you come here for a second?” Timmy got out of his chair. He left a wet mark on his seat and walked up to Ms. Sain. She talked to him in a low whisper. “I heard you had an accident this morning at the bus stop?” She asked him. He nodded his head. Finally Damon would get in trouble for the bull shit he’d been putting Timmy through. “It can be quite embarrassing to-” She cleared her throat, “To, um, not make it to the bathroom on time.” Timmy was confused. Did she think he peed himself? “But it’s okay, accidents happen. Why don’t you go see the nurse and ask if she has some clean clothes for you to borrow?” Ms. Sain smiled sweetly at him.

“I-I didn’t pee myself.” Timmy finally stammered.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, Timmy, it happens all the time.” Ms. Sain told him. “Go see the nurse and when you’re all cleaned up you can come back.” Her attention had already moved from Timmy down to her attendance sheet. Timmy hung his head and walked to the nurse’s office, dragging his feet the whole time.

The nurse gave Timmy new underwear and pants to put on. He slipped out of his urine soaked jeans and pulled on the dark grey sweatpants. Everyone would know that something happened now that he had change his pants but he imagined the rumor had already gotten around that he peed his pants. Timmy was exhausted from Damon’s antics. He didn’t know how much longer he could put up with it. Every time he tried to talk to his parents they were too busy fighting with one another to listen to anything he said. The teachers also didn’t listen because one of Damon’s goons got there first and spun the story in a different way. Timmy was running out of options. He knew he was going to have to take matters into his own hands he just didn’t know what that meant yet.

The whole day people laughed at Timmy as he walked through the hallways. He tried to make his locker trips as brief as he could to limit the amount of people who saw him. He ran into Damon at one point after lunch and he cursed whatever God had been in charge of that encounter.

“Hey Timmy.” Damon said in an overly friendly tone. “Cool pants.” He snickered. Timmy kept his head down and walked away as fast as he could. Damon didn’t like that. He ran to catch up with Timmy and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face him. “I said cool pants.”

“Thanks.” Timmy said under his breath. Damon smirked.

“Where’d you get them?” Damon asked. Kids had stopped to watch the interaction. Timmy remained silent. “Where. Did. You. Get. Them?” Damon punctuated each word.

“Th-the nurse.” Timmy replied. His head hung low and eyes began to water.

“The nurse!?” Damon exclaimed. “She dresses you now? What is she your mommy?” He mocked. The tears in Timmy’s eyes spilled over and fell to the floor. “Are you crying?” Damon laughed. “Do you need your mommy?”

Timmy sprinted away from Damon and headed for the front doors of the school. He didn’t care if he got in trouble for skipping the rest of the day. He refused to go back inside. It’s not like his parents would care if he got in trouble anyway. It took Timmy about two hours to walk home from school. Neither of his parents were home and he relished the silence of his house. He walked up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind him. He leaned his back against the closed door and slowly slid down to the floor. Timmy released his tears.

After Timmy had let go of everything he had inside him, he started thinking about his plan of revenge against Damon. He knew it’d have to be big, or he would never leave Timmy alone. As he contemplated his options he heard his parents start to fight downstairs. They had come home when Timmy was still crying and neither of them checked on him. It was as if Timmy didn’t exist in their lives anymore.

“I could just fucking KILL you.” He heard his mom scream at his dad.

“Oh yeah? Could you?” His dad yelled back. Timmy heard a glass shatter and the screams continued. He tried to tune it out as best as he could but the screaming went well into the night. Timmy got into bed and covered his head with his pillow and prayed it would be over soon.

The next morning Timmy woke up to his mom shaking him gently.

“Timmy? Sweetie?” She looked down at him. The first thing Timmy noticed was her black eye. The second thing Timmy noticed was the snow falling outside the window.

“Hm?” He asked as he pulled himself out of his slumber.

“School’s canceled today but your father and I still have work. Are you going to be okay to be home alone all day?” She asked him. Why was she even asking? Timmy thought. He was home alone almost every day.

“S’okay.” He answered and closed his eyes again. Timmy wasn’t awake long enough to hear his mother tell him she loved him and she was sorry for everything. She left his room and headed to work followed closely by her husband. Timmy slept for another couple hours and when he woke up again the snow was still falling. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. There were already a few inches that had accumulated on the ground. The sky was gray and didn’t look like it was going to stop snowing any time soon. Timmy decided today would be a perfect day to build his first snowman of the season.

Timmy dressed himself in his snow clothes and went outside. Timmy made snowmen every year. It was one of his favorite things to do in the winter. He even had a special scarf and top hat that his mom had bought him years ago to decorate his creations. Timmy began his process by making a small ball of snow in his hand. He dropped it in the snow on the ground and started to pack more snow on top of the small ball. He continued until a ball about the size of Timmy’s arm span was created. He rounded it out with his gloved hands, ensuring a smooth base. He repeated his method and stopped when the next layer was just slightly smaller than the first one. Timmy added it to the base and rounded out this one as well. He started working on the head and when Timmy got it to a size he was happy with he put it on top of the other two. Timmy sculpted each section of the snowman to be exactly how he wanted it to be. Satisfied with the snowman, he took a couple steps back and admired his work. The snowman stood slightly taller than Timmy did so he’d have to get on his tippy toes to put the top hat on its head.

Timmy looked at his snowman for a minute or two longer. He went back inside to get the finishing touches. He grabbed the scarf and top hat, he had a bag of coal he used for the buttons and the face and a carrot for its nose. He would have to cut two branches off a tree for its arms so he grabbed a kitchen knife and carried everything outside. Timmy balanced all of the things in his arms while he slowly closed his front door. He successfully closed the door and brought his items over to the snowman.

Damon jumped out just as Timmy reached the snowman. Timmy screamed and dropped everything in his hands. His heart pounded from the sudden shock.

“Got cha!” Damon yelled. “You should have seen your face.” He laughed. “What are you doing, little bitch?”

“I’m making a snowman.” Timmy answered. He looked at Damon directly this time, knowing he needed to finally stand up for himself.

“You’re making a snowman, huh?” Damon repeated. “Hey, it looks pretty good!”

Timmy’s eyebrows rose at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Sure would be a shame if it fell, huh?” Damon smiled mischievously. Before Timmy could answer Damon kicked the snowman through its middle section and the whole thing collapsed.

Timmy was frozen at first. His brain took a second to process what had happened. When he understood what Damon had done, Timmy narrowed his eyes. The blood rushed to his ears as the anger began to rise inside of him. He was sick and tired of Damon bullying him.

The words his mom had spoken last night came forward from the depths of his mind. ‘I could just fucking kill you’ she had said. He heard Damon laughing but it was muffled in his brain, almost like it was underwater. Timmy caught sight of the knife lying in the snow. The sun glinted off of it almost like it had winked at him and said, “Pick me up! He’ll never stop if you don’t kill him!” He picked it up and walked over to where Damon was bent over laughing. Without hesitation Timmy thrusted the knife into Damon’s neck. Damon’s laughter stopped promptly. It was replaced by a half cough half choking sound. Timmy pulled the knife out of Damon’s neck. Each time Damon coughed, blood squirted out of the hole. Timmy thought it looked like that one time when his mom and him were outside on a hot summer day and his mom grabbed their hose and covered half of the opening and sprayed him with the cold water. He watched as Damon clutched at the wound in his neck getting his hands covered with his own warm and sticky blood.

Damon struggled with his neck for another minute or two before he passed out from the blood loss. The blood still pumped from his neck but at a slower rate now that he wasn’t coughing. Timmy dropped the knife on the ground and picked up some snow to wash his hands of the warm blood. He looked at his snowman mournfully. Well, why waste the rest of the day? He thought to himself. Timmy walked over to the base of the snowman and broke it apart. He wanted to start from scratch.  Timmy started to form another ball of snow. When he made it as big as he wanted it to be, he carved out a hole in the middle. He made the second part almost as big as the first and carved out a hole in the middle of that one, too. Timmy formed the head last and hallowed out the inside.

He dragged Damon’s now lifeless body over to the base of his new snowman. He picked Damon up and coaxed his legs into the hole he had made. Damon’s body slumped over the edge when Timmy let go. Timmy filled the hole with snow, tightly packing in Damon’s legs. He grabbed the middle part of the snowman and pulled it over Damon’s head and shoulders. Again he packed in snow so Damon stood upright and not slumped over. Finally, Timmy grabbed the head and slipped it over Damon’s like a helmet. He grabbed the scarf and top hat from where he had dropped it earlier. Timmy dug the coal and the carrot out of the snow and carried them over to his new snowman. He decorated his snowman while he hummed Christmas carols. He picked up the bloody knife once more. He walked over to the tree line and cut down two branches of equal size. Timmy stuck them into the middle section of the snowman. Timmy took a couple steps back and smiled. This was the best and biggest snowman Timmy had ever made. After admiring his work he decided to go inside and make a cup of hot cocoa. Timmy opened his front door and walked inside as the snowman slowly turned red.

Colleen Burke

10.4.2019

[gray--dragneel]

Gross

This is a late birthday present for @selenba / @f-r-f-t! I hope Gray taking care of a drunk Natsu counts as domestic in your books, Fran :)

[Ao3]

Gray peeks an eye open to check the message on his phone. You should have come! Lucy texts for the second time. Gray almost agrees. The house is too quiet without Natsu in it. He pulls Natsu’s muffler over his mouth and shrugs. He was just too tired to do anything other than send Natsu off with a have fun, be safe. Hell, he's still too tired to do anything but lay here.

Gray’s phone beeps again and he opens the snap Lucy’s sent him. His eyes go wide at the sight of Natsu on a table, shaking his ass and sensually pulling his vest off while Cana and Loke cheer in the background. He barely gets a glimpse at the black bar before the video is gone. He’s imitating you.

Gray snorts. He strips to music once and Natsu never lets it go. Tossing his phone aside, he decides to nap before Natsu calls him to be picked up.

His phone rings an hour later, and after a minute of blindly fumbling he manages to answer. “Stripper Boy,” Gajeel greets before Gray gets a word in. “Salamander’s pretty drunk, you better come get him.”

“Fuck’d you say, Gaj?!” Natsu barks somewhere on the other end.

“Mind yer own business, Pinkie!” Gajeel says. Gray can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “And hurry up, would ya? He hasn't shut up about you for the last two hours.”

“You know what, Gajeel-” Natsu roars.

Gray chuckles. “Yeah, I'll be there soon. Don't strangle him before I get there.”

Gajeel barely gets in a, “No promises,” before Gray hangs up and rolls out of bed.

Gray parks the magic-mobile outside Cana’s house and unhooks the SE plug. Natsu is easy to hear, even as he walks up the driveway.

That bright pink hair is the first thing he sees when he walks in the door. It’s heartwarming, even sends a giddy swoop through his stomach. Gray has missed the sight of this ridiculous dragon the last several hours. The moment is short lived as Natsu jabs an accusing finger in Gajeel’s face. “And it’s not as if you haven't been foaming at the mouth talking about Levy’s legs all night!”

They're still going on about that?

“You little-” Gajeel huffs. Levy throws him a stern, albeit amused look and he rolls his eyes. He spots Gray over Natsu's shoulder and tuts. “Whatever.”

Natsu lets out a triumphant ha! as he walks away.

With nothing to focus on, Natsu sways. He looks from one side to another in a way Gray recognizes. He's trying to find something to lean on so he doesn't let on how drunk he truly is. “Shit,” Natsu says quietly.

Gray snorts and takes a few steps forward. He puts his hands on Natsu's hips to offer him some semblance of balance. Natsu stiffens and his hands clench. “Hey, jack ass,” he growls, “I told you I’m taken!”

Gray’s brow pinches. “Eh?”

“Hands off!” Natsu turns, fist swinging at Gray’s face.

Gray doesn't flinch, just watches the exact moment Natsu's nose catches up with the scents around him and his eyes widen enough to actually be open. His sneer vanishes, replaced with a brilliant smile and his fist opens to grab at the back of Gray’s shoulder as he launches from an attack straight into a hug.

“Gray!” Natsu squeezes him hard and nuzzles his face into the crook of Gray’s neck the best he can.

“What’s the big idea, Ashes, swinging at me like that?” Gray teases.

��Shut up,” Natsu says. “One of Lucy’s friends keeps hittin’ on me.” He looks around, glaring at someone he can't find. “Think he might’ve finally left.”

Gray blinks at him, suppressing a smile at the innocence in Natsu's face despite the fact that he was completely ready to pop someone out of loyalty. “Maybe don’t get so violent next time, hmm?”

Natsu’s lip juts out. “Maybe come with me next time so the creeps don’t bother in the first place.” Gray opens his mouth to snark out a retort but Natsu’s got his face shoved against him again, nose softly dragging along his neck. “My scarf smells like you.” Gray looks down in time to see Natsu’s cheeks perk up as he smiles.

Gray runs his fingers through Natsu’s hair. “Let’s get you home, Natsu.”

Natsu sighs and pushes into the touch before Gray’s hand is gone. “Yes, love.”

“Gross,” Laxus says, pulling Freed into his lap.

The bliss on Natsu’s face disappears. “Wanna go, Lax?” Natsu asks.

Gray drags him towards the door before Laxus can respond.

“Can you believe him?” Natsu asks. He shakes his head when Gray tries to steer him towards the magic-mobile. Gray doesn’t fight him. They only live a few blocks away. “Calling us gross when him and Freed are so- so-” Natsu laughs. “Gross. They’re gross.”

“Are you saying he’s wrong?” Gray slips his fingers through Natsu’s. “We’re rarely ever apart anymore. Tonight was the first night in, what, two months?” Natsu turns bright, shiny eyes on him and Gray rolls his own in turn. “It’s a miracle I haven’t murdered you.”

Natsu sticks his tongue out at him. “You’d miss me too much, Snowflake.” He mulls it over for a moment. “Aside from that though, I don’t think we’re that bad.”

Gray laughs. “Natsu. You cling to me koala-style every morning I have to get out of bed before you do.”

Natsu huffs. “So?”

“So sometimes I have to pee!”

Natsu chortles and bites into his lip. “Why don’t you roll me off then?”

“‘Cause you give me those damn puppy eyes and I end up staying twice as long as I normally would even if I’m ready to piss myself.”

Natsu tilts his head. “Does that… bother you?”

Gray shrugs. “No one likes having to pee that badly. Especially with a grown man’s leg pushing down on your bladder.”

“No, I...“ Natsu grips his hand tighter. “I mean when I cling. I know I do it a lot and I don’t mean to, I just-” He sighs. “I know you like your space. And I don’t wanna drive you crazy.”

Gray’s brows furrow. “Are you kidding? You made me crazy before we got together.” Natsu flinches and Gray could kick himself. Shit. So humour isn’t going to cut it here. “All right, listen. Yeah, sometimes you make me crazy. Sometimes I just wanna sit in quiet and read a book and you crawl into my lap and poke me until I pay attention to you. Sometimes you sniff out the food I was hiding and scarf it down when you think I’m not looking. Hell, sometimes you sing in the fucking shower at the top of your lungs when you know I’m trying to take a nap.”

Natsu sighs. “I’m sorr-”

“No, shut up.” Gray stops in front of their porch and sits down, tugging on Natsu’s hand until he sits beside him. As surprising as it is that Natsu still worries about this after 5 years together, Gray can’t fault him for it. Everyone's always thought that Natsu is more invested in their relationship, maybe Gray needs to work on letting him know that isn’t the case. “Even when you poke me to the point of me wanting to roll you off the couch, I want you there.” Natsu nods slowly and pulls their hands into his lap. “And I don’t care when you eat my food ‘cause half the time I expect you to and knowing you enjoy it so much... I don’t know. Makes it bearable. Besides, you end up buying me more out of guilt anyways so it’s not that big of a deal.”

Natsu laughs and leans his head on Gray’s shoulder. “And the singing?”

Gray groans. “Are you gonna make me say it?” Natsu nods again. “I like your singing. It’s nice. Never woulda thought someone who needs their mouth taped shut half the time could sound like… like that.”

Natsu knocks their hands against Gray’s thigh. “Ass.”

Gray knocks them back against Natsu’s. “So, yeah. I guess sometimes you do drive me crazy. But it doesn’t ever bother me. If it did, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

Natsu hums. “You got some annoying quirks too, ya know.”

“Charming,” Gray deadpans.

“No, but-” Natsu pulls back up to look at him. “But I feel the same. Not just ‘not bothered.’ Like… like I’d rather it be you bugging the hell outta me than anyone else, ya know?”

Gray smiles, just a little, and nods. “Yeah. I think I get what you mean.”

Natsu sits up straight, determination flashing in his eyes. “Gray, I wanna ask you something. Can I?”

Gray laughs. “When has me telling you no ever stopped you before?”

Natsu’s fingers tighten around Gray’s. “I’m serious, it’s important!”

Gray starts at his burst in volume. “Yeah, Ashes, of course.”

Natsu takes a deep breath and nods. Gray can pinpoint the moment where he realizes he hasn't thought of how he's going to ask but Natsu shakes it off quickly. Natsu looks at him a second, smiles and asks, “Will you marry me?”

Gray gapes at him and when Natsu doesn't get an immediate response he wilts, bravado seeping out with the breath that gets knocked from his lungs.

“Natsu-”

“If you don't wanna-”

“Natsu-”

“I probably shoulda asked when I was sober.”

“Natsu-”

“Man, this sucks.”

“Natsu!” Gray grabs his chin and tilts it up. A grin spreads over his face. “We’ve been married a year and a half, you big dummy.”

Natsu looks mildly embarrassed, but it's gone as soon as it came when he remembers. Natsu leans forward and kisses his mate. His husband. “Well, lucky me.”

Gray’s cheeks burn and he shoves Natsu's face away from his. “Tch! Laxus is right, we are gross and it's all on you.”

“I’m your favourite.”

“Debatable.”

“Fact that we’re married says otherwi-” Natsu cuts off with a gasp. “Where’s my ring, you cheap bastard?!”

Gray stands, walks up the steps and unlocks the front door. “By the sink, where you left it when you did half the dishes.”

“Oh, right.”

Gray laughs. “I can’t believe you forgot we’re married.”

Natsu goes off on some rant about how it's Cana’s fault for feeding him shot after shot but Gray isn't quite listening. He's watching Natsu reverently slide his ring back on.

Natsu's still explaining himself, or repeating himself rather, when they walk into their room. He trips over one of Gray’s discarded shirts and faceplants on the carpet, swearing and laughing and Gray finds himself falling a little more in love.

Maybe they are gross. But Gray thinks that maybe he doesn't care.

[ethicallysourcedhumanmeat]

Practically Impractical

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Part 2

“Don’t get me wrong,” Seven starts cautiously once they’ve packed her gear in the car, “that was like, really cool. But what was it, I mean what happened there.”

“Nothing,” she says coolly and buckles her seatbelt. “It wasn’t anything.”

Seven tries to drop it, he really does, but he can’t help it. “I mean, no it was nothing, but I mean, you definitely rap battled that guy.”

He catches her look reflected in the window and for a minute he wishes he was anyone else, someone who could keep their mouth shut, maybe Jumin, but then her mouth twitches and he can see her suppress a smile.

“It wasn’t a rap battle, I didn’t rap and I didn’t challenge him.”

“No you definitely challenged him, my girlfriend, palms sweaty, Yoosung’s spaghetti—”

“Luciel, I’m concerned that you don’t know what rap is,” she laughs.

He smiles, she’s relaxed laughing, job done. It bothers him though, whoever that man had been he had known her and done something to her. Something she didn’t want to talk about, and he was the king of not talking about things.

“Okay, okay. So you didn’t rap battle, but you sang at that guy. I mean don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind filling my baby with your gear and playing roadie, and I really dig being your sound guy but if you’re gonna start assaulting strangers with acoustic alt rock can you give me some warning, do you know how many hits I could have gotten on a video like that?”

She smirks but it’s fake and Seven is quiet. Alright Saeyoung, he thinks, let it go for now. He watches her in his peripheral. She takes her phone out and he sees the colours of the RFA app reflect off her glasses, she switches between a chat and FB for a while and he thinks maybe he sees a picture of the guy from the sidewalk. By the time Seven pulls into his garage she’s stuffed the phone back in her pocket and is staring out the window.

He can see her mouthing the words to the song that plays on the radio and a lump forms in his throat. Normally she’d be pumped from rehearsal. The last time they’d drove home she’d pulled out her Ukelele and played the strangest rendition of Enter Sandman he’d ever heard. But here she was withdrawn, not even singing out loud to the ridiculous sad song playlist she’d started.

They sit in the car for a few minutes before the radio turns itself off. She doesn’t make a move when Seven gets out of the car. He stops for a minute, it wouldn’t be the first time she came out to the garage to clear her thoughts. He moves on, he’ll give her some time, make them a snack and find something really terrible to watch before she has to pick Max up from school; but he doesn’t make is more than 3 feet before he hears her.

“Hey,” she says softly. Her big orange eyes are watery on the other side of the window.

“Hey,” he smiles, 3 big steps and he’s kneeling on the other side of the door forehead pressed against the glass. “I didn’t mean to pry you know? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” she says, still quiet.

“I don’t even care who that guy was, you know. He looked like a douchebag. I hate his face and his shoes were really stupid.”

“You know how I have a kid,” she starts.

“WHAT?!” He gasps. “She’s a Kid? I thought she was just like Santa’s least helpful helper. Kid? Wow, I guess that makes sense.”

“Saeyoung,” she taps the glass. “That was her Dad.”

He’s quiet for a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. “I thought he was overseas.”

“Me too.”

“He didn’t tell you he was here?”

“It might be R&R, I don’t know, he doesn’t tell me anything. He just pays support and I pretend he doesn’t exist until he likes a couple pictures on facebook or owes me money.”

He’d known the situation with her Ex was complicated. He suspected there was more to it than she wanted to talk about, the kid didn’t ask for or about her Dad and in the month Callie and her girl had lived with him they’d barely mentioned him. Until today he’d been such a non issue that Seven hadn’t even been concerned enough to look him up.

Which was exactly what Seven was going to do now. He pressed his lips against the window in an exaggerated kiss that made her laugh and stood up. He heard the door open and Callie still laughing.

“Hey,” she called.

He waved her off.

“Luciel, what are you doing we have to unload.”

“Important defender of justice business!”

“No, Seven, you’re not hacking my ex-husband.”

And there it was.

“Saeyoung,” her hands wrapped around his middle and he felt her cheek against his back.

“Oh no!” he gasps. “An unknown assailant! How will I escape.”

“Saeyoung,” she says, firmer this time but he can feel her cheek tense with a smile. “You can’t hack my ex-husband ok?”

“No one will know,” he reasons.

“Seven he’s in the military.”

“I’m a pretty ok at hacking.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not that I think you’ll get caught or, that I don’t want you to hack him.”

“WAIT!” Seven spins in place and bends over until they’re nose to nose. “Did my Queen just ask me to hack someone? Did an Angel just says that I Seven Zero Seven, Defender of Justice, am the single best hacker, capable of infiltrating Militaries?”

“That’s not, Seven, this isn’t a silly challenge, this is my life, our life.”

Shit.

“Saeyoung, don’t look up his schedule, or what he’s doing. I don’t want to know. I mean, I do but—”

“Wouldn’t it be easier? No one will know if I just find out how long he’s here.”

“You don’t understand. I’d know. And on the off chance he does ask to see her I’d have to worry about if I let on that I know his schedule... Saeyoung, if I ask too many questions about where he is he thinks I’m obsessed with him. He thought when I didn’t date I was obsessed him. When he’s lonely and bored he wants me to hang out. It’s hard enough not to think about him every day when I don’t know if he has time he could be spending with his kid.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, no. Not like that.”

“No, it’s ok. I mean you were married. It’s, you know. It’s fine.”

“God no, Saeyoung, not like that. Shit. No. I mean I fucking hate him ok? And I have this awesome fucking kid and I hate that he doesn’t want to hang out with her. He hangs up on her if her mind wonders on the phone, or she’s out of view on skype for more than a few seconds. And when she’s telling me about things that excite her it’s hard not to think about how hurt she must be that he doesn’t want to share that.

And it’s hard not to think about him when you tell me I should replace my worn out patched up hoodie because for 10 years I couldn’t even buy myself clothing without worrying it would start a fight. So sure, I’d love for you to fuck his shit up. I’d love even more to ghost him. Just forget he exists but I can’t and as nice it would be to anticipate his bullshit I’d rather not have to think about him that much.”

Seven is quiet, his expressive eyes are considerate and he kisses her on the nose. They unload his car in comfortable silence and he does make her a snack. Strange to have fridge full of real food; he contemplates whether to go healthy or convenient and settles on Honey Buddha chips with cheese and grapes. She eats it sitting on the floor, her head resting against his knee while he plays video games. She listens to the audio he took during the rehearsal and makes notes, which songs worked, where she was flat, sharp, where her time was off. She fires off texts and picks up her daughter from school.

He decides to work at the kitchen table while the girls make dinner. Max is smiling at him whenever he looks up. He closes out his work without finishing and watches them.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t know,” Max says sceptically. “Can you cook?”

Callie laughs. Seven shrugs.

“Why don’t you teach me.”

“There isn’t really much left. Mom just has to turn the oven on.”

“Oh.”

“Why does everyone call you Seven.”

“Do they?”

“Mr. Han calls you Luciel but your name is Saeyoung, because that’s what Mom calls you.”

“Your name is Maxine, why does everyone call you Max.”

“Max is a name, Seven is a number,” she makes a face at him.

“I didn’t say it was a very good nickname,” he laughs.

“Were you coding before?” She asks.

“I was.”

“Really?” And before he knows it she’s run off and returned with a bunch of little toys and a small computer he recognizes as some form of raspberry pi. She chatters excitedly to him about the toys she’s coded. She shows him how she built the case herself and what she’s made that’s worked and what she’s having trouble with. Callie smiles at him from behind Max.

Supper is cooling on the stove when Callie finally makes them clear the table and he can’t stop smiling even if he is eating pretty much cold food. It’s real food and there’s these awesome girls who care enough to make it for him. And despite Saeren’s complaints about it being cold every time he looks up Callie is practically beaming at him. After supper he packs Max’s lunch and adds a riddle in binary while Callie coaxes the 8 year old into the bath tub. He laughs listening to them argue about brushing her hair, and how long she can read before lights out.

He’d worried, at first, about having a kid in his life. It’s been six months and it got easier every day. On days like today he wondered how he could be so lucky to not only find Callie, but a whole family that he fit so completely into.

“I get it,” he says when Callie falls into the couch next to him.

“Get what?”

“What you said earlier. Every minute I spend with Max I learn this new awesome thing about her, she’s smart and passionate and it must be frustrating to know how awesome she is and be faced with him.”

“You do a pretty good job of making up for it though.”

“Do I?”

“Oh god yes, coding is so far beyond me, she almost never tells me what she’s working on until she’s finished. I’m excited she can share that with you.”

They fall into the usual quiet of the evening, with Callie testing out a game for her show and him coding something or other. Saeren was coming out of his room more and more, and Max opened up a little more every day.

“Saeyoung,” Saeren asks sitting in the chair opposite them. They both glance up. As much progress as they’d made Saeren was still mostly quite when Seven was home.

“Yeah?” She could see the way he tried not to seem too eager, the way he didn’t quite look up from his laptop screen.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Callie doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until she lets it out. “Of what?”

Saeren doesn’t take his eyes off of his brother and he doesn’t clarify.

“Terrified,” he admits. “But a little less everyday.”

“Of what?” she asks again.

“Being like her,” they say in unison.

“Oh god,” she says under her breath. “I never thought, I didn’t know.”

Seven shrugs and smiles. Saeren watches him.

“You know,” Callie says finally, “she doesn’t define you. Either of you. Not who you are, and not your ability to be Max’s family. Max’s Dad has good parents, kind people who care and try despite what a complete bag of soggy horse dicks he turned out to be, and he is a terrible father. If anything I think you guys might be better with her than I am. Maybe you check yourselves more than I ever think to but I’ve never worried about leaving her alone with either of you. Leaving the two of you alone together maybe but not her with you.”

“That’s stupid,” Saeren snorts.

“Which part?” She asks. Genuinely curious.

“You don’t worry when you leave her with us? You should at least worry a little bit.”

“I worry when I leave her with Zen, because he might fill her full of candy or take her on his motorcycle. I worry when I leave her with Yoosung that she might convince him she can use the stove or accidentally delete his LOLOL inventory or make him cry. I worry that maybe she’ll irritate you when you need quiet or she might trip over a powercord and end up messing up a day of work for one of you. But I don’t worry about her safety. Should I?”

Saeren shrugs, and Saeyoung squeezes her arm.

“You guys are our family now. We trust you. So get used to it.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 63

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

  With a late afternoon rain came a break in the oppressive humidity; a much cooler breeze appearing as the sun began to set.   The four oldest are already tucked into bed;  satisfied and content after daddy obliged every request for ‘just one more story’ and they were spoiled with seemingly endless cuddles, hugs, and kisses.  So relaxed and secure knowing that he’s under the same room that sleep came easily to all of them; worn out from not only the excitement of him showing up unexpectedly, but then spending every waking moment of the rest of the day vying for his attention. Constantly talking over one another, fighting over who go to sit on his shoulders when they showed him the animals, squabbling over who got to be beside him at dinner. It’s only been four days since they’d seen him at the airport, but it may as well have been a lifetime to them; ten minutes not nearly enough to erase the ache in their little hearts or the feeling of loneliness inside of them.

While not exactly a constant fixture in their lives at times because of the job and its unpredictability, he’d always been a hands-on father; starting right from the moment they found out there was a baby -or babies, in this twins’ case- on the way. Attentive and loving and even more protective than usual; determined to keep both her and the life inside of her as safe, secure, and healthy as possible. Feeling pride and wonder that he’d even been given the chance to be a father again; able to create life and nurture it when in all aspects, he should have died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.  Every one of the pregnancies...everyone of the kids...serving as reminders of not only  just how lucky he’d gotten that  day, but that someone who’d made the mistakes and the bad decisions he’d had could still be worthy enough to be a dad once more.  And he’s always been determined to be the best one he can possibly be; wanting to not only right all previous wrongs, but to prove that he could be a better man -and husband and father- than his old man had tried to teach him to be.  Loving his children with every shred of his being and devoting himself to every aspect of their care and upbringing; even things as simple and mundane as  changing diapers or giving them bottles or at the very least bringing to her for a feed.

As the first three got older, he took on new challenges and changes to guide them and help shape them for their futures.   Whether it be something as profound as encouraging them to be compassionate and accepting and loving, or something as ‘normal’ as teaching them to surf and play soccer or even learning how to braid his little girl’s hair. No task too big or too small. Never complaining about being woken up in the middle of the night or hesitating when it comes to both showing affection and receiving it. And as corny and as sappy as it sounds, Esme realizes just how fortunate she really is; having someone that is willing to do it all without having to even be asked. She’s heard plenty of horror stories from the moms at school; tales of lazy and useless husbands that complain about even a half an hour spent for their children. Always able to brag about him and then able to go  home knowing how she ‘lucked out’. Somehow, even during the craziest and possibly scariest time of her, managing to find the best possible person -and partner- to have a family with.

She stands by the open door of the balcony that leads off the bedroom she’d been ‘assigned to’. Both watching and listening to him as he lays flat on his back on  a two person lounge chair with Addie on his chest; her tiny fists curled tightly around his index fingers as she alternates between raising her head and resting her chin against him.  Those  enormous dark eyes never leaving his face and  a happy -and completely genuine- smile taking over her face every time he talks to her; the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose crinkling. He changes when he’s with her. In the same way he had with all the others when they were babies.   This big, tough, strong man suddenly so gentle; his voice softer and calmer. Deeper, even. Enamored with her in the same way she is with him; his own eyes sparkling and crinkling and his own smile both testament to the fact that he finds her a complete wonder. Not quite believing that she really exists; questioning what he could have possibly done to deserve her.

He’s a wonder himself. So brave and fearless and capable of inflicting so much pain and suffering, yet possessing so much tenderness and love.  It would be so easy for him to be jaded and broken; to fall back into old habits and to become dependent on old, dangerous vices. But no matter how bad things get, no matter how difficult or impossible they seem, he puts all his time and effort into being a  good man. Into loving his wife and children with everything he has.

“What are you guys doing?” she asks, as she steps out onto the balcony, drawing her hoodie tight across her body.

Tyler tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “Nothing. Just hanging out. Talking.”

“I hope you’re not telling her gruesome stories.”

“I would never do that to my little peanut,” he declares, and runs a palm over Addie’s hair, hand settling on the back of her head. “Daddy would never do that to you. He saves that stuff for mommy.”

“Because mommy so wants to hear  your tales of killing people with garden tools. Look at the way she looks at you…” Esme leans over the back of the lounger and presses a kiss to his lips. “...like you’re got rainbows and glitter coming out of your ass or something. Already a daddy’s girl.”

“Nothing wrong with that. She knows who loves her the most. Who used to bring mommy tacos and ice cream and pop tarts at three in the morning when she was still in mommy’s tummy.”

“She definitely likes your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

“She’s strong as hell already. Already holding her up on her own. None of the other ones did it that early. And she’s got a grip on her. Small and mighty. Like her momma. And you look just like your mom.”  he addresses Addie now, as he removes his fingers from her grip and lifts her higher onto his chest; lips resting briefly against her forehead. “Beautiful just like her. Daddy’s not going to complain that you didn’t get his genes.”

“How do you think I feel? The first four look just like you. It’s about time one of them took after me.  She does have your smile, though. Even her eyes and her nose wrinkle like yours do.”

“Yeah, but she’s all you. And that’s good,” he smiles up at her once more, as her hands slide over his shoulder and down his chest and she pecks the corner of his mouth. “It’s very good. She’s incredible. Just like you.”

“Are you hopped up on pain meds?” She teases.

“Not yet.  Why? I’m not allowed to be all sappy and shit with my wife?”

“You’re allowed,” she says, then sinks down beside him, accepting a short, sweet kiss before stretching out on her side. Chin resting on his good shoulder, one hand on his stomach and the other just above his head; fingers  gently combing through his hair. “She’s putting on weight. She’s going to graduate out of preemie clothes and diapers. Only took two and a half months.”

“She’s tiny. Like you.”

“I don’t understand how something that small can come from someone the size of you. None of the other kids were that small. Not even Tanner and he was sick. And Declan? Don’t even get me started on that kid. That was like giving birth to a toddler.”

“She’s always going to be tiny. I mean, you hit twelve and never grew again.”

“You know what, Tyler? Fuck you and your short jokes.”

“Don’t be bitter because you can’t get on the rides at the amusement park or reach things at the bottom of the washer.”

“You’re not very funny,” she grumbles, and presses a kiss to his chin. “Just because you’re absurdly tall and absurdly good looking. What a burden you have to live with every day. How do you manage? How do you carry such a heavy load all the time?”

“Heavy load? We’re talking about my dick?”

“You’re a pig,” she declares. “Don’t talk like that in front of my child. She doesn’t need to hear these things. Look at the way she smiles at you. You’re her favourite already. Not that I blame her; you’re my favourite too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. No one else comes close.”

He smiles, then turns his face into hers and kisses her. “We did good, yeah? With her?”

“We did. With all five of them. And at the risk of sounding conceited, we make some pretty damn good looking kids.”

“Some pretty amazing kids.”

“Well, they have an amazing dad, so…” she raises her head from his shoulder, regarding him intensely as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I really don’t.”

“Are you going to tell me about it, or…”

“I don’t really want to.”

“I think you should. I think you NEED to talk about it. And I think deep down, you want to. You don’t have to shelter me, Tyler.  I married a mercenary; I went into things understanding the life and knowing the risks. You don’t have to hide stuff from me. You think you’d realize that by now.”

“I do. But YOU should realize that I do it to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? You? Because that’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve never once been afraid of you. Not in the slightest. And despite what you think, you’re not a burden. We went into this...marriage, having a family...expecting to help shoulder each other’s problems.  So stop trying to do it all on your own. You’re strong, but you’re not THAT strong.”

He sighs heavily, then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head

“What happened, Tyler? Because I know this goes way beyond someone just jumping you. What the hell went wrong?”

“I don’t know. It was fucked up right from the beginning. As soon as I got there. It was this old factory turned into student housing or some shit. I had these four guys to take out; four shots, that’s all I needed. They were across the street at some bar or restaurant or whatever. I was waiting for them to come out. It should have been so fucking simple.”

Esme rolls over onto her stomach, chin resting on his chest as she regards him; patiently waiting for him to continue. She doesn’t push; that will only cause him to shut down completely. Instead she bides her time. Watching his face as her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck.

“Things started going to shit. The street lights kept going on and off; just the two right in front of us. Then they went out completely. So I went to get the scope out of my bag, so I could see what the fuck I was doing.”  His eyes narrow and his brow furrows as he attempts to recall the details.  “And I don’t know I saw him or heard him but all of a sudden he was just there?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Just some guy. Big bastard. Wearing a black ski mask. It happened so fucking fast. I didn’t even get a chance to react. Nailed me right in the shoulder; like he knew where to get me. Where one of my weak spots is.”

“How would he know that?”

Tyler shrugs. “Nik there’s a mole. She said she’s looking into it, but I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything since.”

“What do you think”

“I think something’s fucked. He knew where to get me; knee, back, shoulder. He knew it and he took advantage of it.  I stand a fucking chance. That’s how quick he was. He was so fast, babe. He wasn’t fucking around.”

“And where did these come from?” She runs a hand along the enormous, painful to the touch bruises on his biceps; arm now out of the sling. At least for the evening. “Both arms? And that’s NOT from someone grabbing you.”

“It was his knees. He wanted to keep me still; so I couldn’t get to my holster or the rifle. Fucking kept grabbing me by the throat; trying to choke me out.  Kept asking me if I give up. I basically told him to go fuck himself. I wasn’t giving up. No way in hell. All I kept thinking about was you…” his voice cracks with emotion and tears well in his eyes. “...all I kept thinking about was you. About me getting a second chance and that I wasn’t done with it; I wasn’t ready to let that end. That I didn’t want to leave you or my kids. That I needed to survive. That YOU needed me to survive.”

“Tyler…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then nestles her nose against his temple; eyes closed and her forehead against him, fingers still moving through his hair. “...it’s okay. Just breathe. That’s all you have to do. Just breathe.”

“I wasn’t going out like that. I wasn’t letting it end like that. I wasn’t letting US end. So I fought back. But I couldn’t get away. No matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. He was so fucking strong, babe. Tall and big and heavy as fuck.”

“How did you get away?”

“I don’t know. There’s A LOT I don’t know. That I don’t remember. It’s all a big blur. It’s all there there and I know it’s all there but I can’t piece it together and none of it makes sense.”

“Well tell me what you do remember,” Esme encourages. “It doesn’t have to make sense. Just tell me whatever comes to you.”

“I know he drugged me. I remember that part.”

“Drugged you? What…?”

“He had a needle. I remember seeing it. I remember feeling it. Right there…” he lays a finger against the right side of his neck.  “...just jammed it in. It was cold; whatever was in it. It was cold and it burned.”

She heaves a long, shaky sigh; her own tears threatening. “If he wanted to kill you, why would he do that? Why…?”

“He didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to knock my ass out. He probably had a few buddies waiting to help get me out of there. I know that sounds crazy. It sounds fucked up even to me. But I know that’s what was going to happen; what Mahajan told them to do. And I don't know where they were going to take me. Somewhere in the city, out of it, I don’t know. But it wouldn’t have been good once they got me there.”

“I don’t even want what to think about it,” her voice trembles.

“They would’ve let you know. That I was still alive. And they would have made you sure you knew what they were doing to me. They would have sent you pictures or made me call you or mailed you pieces of me.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” she repeats, then promptly bursts into tears; one hand clutching the front of his shirt and the  other at his hair, face buried in his neck. “Please don’t. Don’t talk about it. Just stop.”

****

His shoulder throbs just with the simple act of laying his hand on Addie’s back to keep her secure. And he wraps his left arm around his wife’s trembling body, drawing her tightly into his side. Eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head; hand sliding up the back of her simple cotton t-shirt, knuckles repeatedly brushing up and down her spine. Not even attempting to hold his own tears back; feeling the moisture from hers settling on the side of his throat and his shoulder.

“I can’t think about it,” she whimpers. “I can’t. I can’t think about what they would have done to you.”

“It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t matter now. I’m here. It didn’t work. Whatever they had planned, I fucked it up. And I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“They’re sick and twisted fucks!” she cries. “And they would have made sure I knew what they were doing to do you and I wouldn’t have been able to do a goddamn thing about it. I wouldn’t have been to help or get you out of there. I wouldn’t have been able to do a fucking thing for you.”

“It’s alright, Esme. You don’t have to worry about it. It didn’t work. I fucked up everything for them  and now I’m here with you and the kids. Where I should have been all along.”

“I don’t understand,” she raises her head to look at him. “How did they know where you were?”

Tyler shrugs.

“How did they get that close to you? Close enough to do all of this? How…?”

“I must have slipped up somehow. Maybe my brain is worse than we thought. Maybe I’m slowing down. Making mistakes Maybe…”

“You don’t make mistakes,” she argues. “I know you. I know how you work. I’ve SEEN you work, You don’t slip. You don’t fuck up. And you are as hell aren’t slowing down. You’re even better now than you were back in Dhaka. And that’s saying a lot because you were pretty fucking amazing even then.”

“Something happened. I made a mistake somewhere.”

“YOU didn’t do shit. This isn’t on you, Tyler. This is not your fault. Someone fucked up, but it wasn’t you. Who was watching you? Where were they?”

“Across the street. Keeping an eye on shit.”

“Across the street?! How the hell were they keeping an eye on you from across the goddamn street?! Whose idea was that? Yours?”

“I didn’t want anyone breathing down my neck. I can’t work like that. I’ve NEVER been able to work like that. And it’s not like I knew was going to happen. I didn’t want in there expecting some fuck not come in and choke me out and stab me with a fucking needle.”

“Okay...okay...calm down…” Her tone is gentle, his face in her hands. “...it’s alright. I’m not attacking you. Just take a break; everything’s fine. Addie’s asleep. And so she’s tiny and she’s so warm and I know you don’t want to scare her. Calm down, okay?”  She presses a kiss to his lips. “Just stay calm.”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Who was supposed to be watching you?”

“Nathan. He had to take the four guys out when that fucking asshole came after me,”

“Calm…” she encourages, thumbs brushing over his lips. “...just stay calm. It’s okay. It's just you and me talking. No one else. No one’s judging you, Tyler.”

His eyes close, and he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Nathan,” he says, eyes opening and focusing on her. “Nathan was there; across the street. He took care of things. I don’t know what happened after that. Cops showed up, he took off. No one has seen or heard from him since.”

She frowns. “Nathan’s missing?”

“Missing. AWOL. I don’t fucking know. He’s gone. Cell and his SAT just go right to voicemail.”

“Could someone have gotten a hold of him? Could there have been someone else?”

“Why would they want him? What does holding him do? He’s a nobody to them. He means nothing to Mahajan. It’s me he wants. Taking Nathan does shit.”

“Well where could he be? Why would he just take off? That makes no sense.”

“Who the fuck knows. Maybe he’s dead. I have no idea. I just know he’s gone and no one knows where he is.”

“This is fucked up. Way more than we thought it was. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That Mahajan plays dirty and that he’d  just step it up as time went on. Now people are going missing? YOU almost went missing. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, babe. I really don’t know.”

“You need to walk away. This ends here. Your part is this. It ends right here, right now. Walk away, Tyler.”

“I can’t. The job isn’t even close to being finished.”

“Fuck the job. It’s finished for you. Look at you! Look what they did to you! They knew where you were, they knew what spots to target. They fucking drugged you!  That alone could have killed you. Do you even know what he gave you?”

“Ketamine. I guess it’s a sedative of some kind.”

“Yeah, for horses! What the fuck? What’s next? If they get that close again, what happens?”

“They won’t get another chance.”

“You don’t know that. They’re not going to stop, Tyler. Do you really think they’re just going to walk away? They’re not going to give up. Not until they get you. He knows you’re here. Mahajan. He knows you’re in Mumbai. And soon your name and your picture are going to be everywhere and every goddamn gun in this city is going to be pointed at you. Is that what you want? You WANT there to be?”

“No,” he scowls. “That’s NOT what I want.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why won’t you just walk away? Why can’t you just let Anil and his people and Nik and hers handle this? Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s MY family. Not theirs. Mine.”

“And your family wants you alive!” Esme retorts. “We don’t want you out there dying for us. We need you here. With us. So just tell Anil you’re walking away . That you HAVE to walk away. That you need to be with your family. Tell him.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can’t, baby. I can’t do that.”

“You don’t need to do this. There’s other people who are more than capable of handling things. Walk away, Tyler. Before you can’t. Before it’s too late. Because if they go that close to you once, they’ll do it again. And this time it won’t be just one guy. It’ll be two. Or three. Or four. Or half a fucking dozen. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I am listening. You’re not listening to me.”

“This is a suicide mission. This is the kind shit you used to pull before we met. Don’t go back to that. Don’t go back to being him. He died a long time ago. You said it yourself; that he was long gone. You’re not the same person you were back then.  You have me and you have five little beings you helped make. That love you and need you in their lives.”

“I’m doing this for them. For he,” he nods down at Addie as she sleeps peacefully. “So she can grow up. So she can have a life.”

“A life without you. That’s what you’re saying, right? That you’re going to sacrifice yourself for her. For us.”

“We knew that going into this. That it would happen.”

“No. We thought it MIGHT happen. There’s a difference. And I’m asking you...NO...I’m telling you...walk away so you don’t have to make that choice. So it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I am so sorry.”

“So what’s it? You’ve just decided that this is what’s going to happen? You just decided for yourself that you’re going to give up. You’re telling me that you’re okay with that. Dying for us.”

“I’ve already taken bullets for you. Trying to get you the fuck out of Dhaka. And I would take all of those bullets again. And then some. I would die for you in a heartbeat. For you, for my kids. No hesitation.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Esme argues. “And you don’t have to. Just walk away. Let other people handle this. Please. You have two choices and you’re making the wrong one. Why can’t you see that?”

“If I give myself up, he’ll leave you alone.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you? That that’s going to solve everything? Because it won’t. You offering yourself up like some kid of sacrificial fucking lamb is not the answer.”

“Hey...calm…” He reaches up and pushes a hand through her hair, tightly gripping the back of her head. “...you told me to stay calm for Addie. Now I need you to stay calm for her. She doesn’t need this. She's a baby. Just a baby.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s OUR baby. As in me and you. And she needs you. She needs her dad. They all do. And you’re sitting here telling me that you’re willing to offer yourself up. It’s bullshit and it’s insane and I want you to knock it the fuck off.”

“I said calm down!” He orders, then aggressively pulls her into him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead. “...just calm down. Please. Take it easy.”

“You are NOT doing this. I won’t let you. This is not what we talked about, This is not what we agreed on.”

“There’s no other choice.”

She shoves him away. “There’s always another choice! It doesn’t have to come down to this. You for us. It doesn’t need to be this way and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t just walk away. I can’t.”

“Promise me when you walk out that door two days from now that won’t just go and offer yourself up. You don’t need to do that. There’s other ways. There’s still fight left in you. I know right now you feel like there isn’t. I know you're doubting yourself. But I have faith in you and I know you can handle this. WITHOUT giving yourself up. Promise me you’ll fight back. That you’re not just quitting. That THAT will be the last resort.”

“If I have no other choice, I’ll do it.”

“But right now you HAVE other choices. You know that, right? You see that?”

Tyler nods.

“Because you don’t give up. You NEVER give up. You’re alive today because you didn’t. So don’t fucking start now. I mean we’re supposed to be having another baby. And I don’t know if you realize how these things work, but I kind of need you for that.”

“I could always just jerk off into a cup and you save it.”

“Okay, you know what? No. I’d rather the old fashion way, thank you. I kind of like having sex with you. It’s kinda fun.”

He smirks. “Kinda?”

“Okay, it’s a lot of fun, actually. I didn’t think  I had to say that. I thought the results spoke for themselves. We don’t have kids for nothing. And I’d say go for the sixth one right now, but you jumped the gun and you decided we were done and go the old…” she holds her hand up, mimicking a pair of scissors with her index and middle finger.

“Not my best decision, I admit.”

“You have this uncanny ability of changing your mind about this whole having another baby thing. How many times have we decided that we’re stopping only for you to turn around and want another one the second the baby came home?”

“It’s never been THAT soon.”

“Excuse me? How old were the twins when you decided that three wasn’t enough after all?”

“Yeah…” he gives  a small, almost sad smile. “...but that one didn’t work out, did it.”

“No.” She presses a kiss to his temple. “It didn’t. And I know it was hard on you. That you didn’t really get to grieve like I did. I’m sorry for that. That I wasn’t there for you in the way you were for me. I’m pretty fucking selfish, aren’t I.”

“No, you’re not. You needed me a lot more than I needed you. Just hard sometimes still. Thinking about it. It was a shitty fucking time. I didn’t think anything could hurt THAT bad.”

“Do you ever wonder? What it would have been?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, running a palm over Addie’s hair and then laying it gently on the top of her head; thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear. “Sometimes I’ll think about it; if it would have been a boy or a girl and what they would have looked like. Then I think maybe things really do happen to reason, no matter how bad they are. If we had had that baby. Declan wouldn’t be here. And maybe we would have stopped after and Addie wouldn’t be here. And I wouldn’t trade either of them for anything.”

“You’re beautiful,” she says, feeling him grin when she kisses the corner of his mouth. “You have the most beautiful mind and this most beautiful heart. And I know you hate me using that word when it comes to describing you. But it’s true; I can’t help it.”

“I’ll let it slide. I’ll let you have it.”

“I have to say, despite my initial reservations about having another one, you do do the whole ‘big, strong man with a tiny baby’ thing very well.”

“You find it sexy don’t you.”

“Very. I find you very sexy. But this…” she trails her fingertips over the myriad of bruises that take up nearly every inch of his neck. “...this is scary. I’ve seen you with a lot of injuries. I’ve even seen you in the worst possible shape. But this? This bothers me the most for some reason. And what’s going on here…” she turns his face away from her and tender fingers investigate the scar left behind from Farhad. “...what were they trying to do? That’s the worst spot. I don’t think it would take much to fuck things up in there.”

“They knew exactly what to target.”

“Any idea who it was?”

“One of the guys off the list. Number 18. Weird part about it? He worked for Asif during the whole Dhaka thing. Guess he was his  right hand man. Moved on to Mahajan when Nik put a couple bullets into Asif.”

“Now that’s fucked, Go from drug lord to the other? So much for loyalty. How’d you kill him?”

“Shot him. Under the chin. I don’t know how I managed. Last thing I remember was that fucking needle. That’s it. Everything else is a blur. Came to and there was a dead body on top of me. I don’t even know how long I was out for.”

“You called me. Some time before you passed you. You don’t remember that, either?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“It freaked me out. I could hear you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something. That wasn't a random pocket dial, was it.”

“No. It wasn’t. I don’t even know why I called. I don’t know if I was calling you for help or if I thought I was dying and I wanted to tell you that I loved you…” his voice wavers once again and tears return to his eyes. “...if I wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard. And I wish I did remember it. That I called.”

“It’s okay.” She places a series of kisses across his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. “...it’s okay now. You’re here and that’s what matters. You made it out of there. You found a way.  You always do.”

“What if I don’t next time? What if it is two guys? Or three or four? Half a dozen? A dozen?”

“I shouldn’t have put that in your head. I’m sorry.” She brushes the tip of her nose against his temple. “That is the last thing you needed to hear. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I was thinking it long before you said it.”

“I know you want to stay on this. And I get it. I do…”  she runs her knuckles along his jaw, beard scraping her skin. “...I know you want to protect us. And I love you so much for that and I love that part of you so fiercely. You ALWAYS protect us. Everything you do, every decision you make, it’s always for us. But you can protect us without being out there. You know you can. I know you can.”

“How? If I don’t stop them, they’ll get to you. And the kids.”

“But if you’re here, you can stop them. And look at all the people that are here to help. Nik, all of Anil’s people. That’s a lot of fire power. And before you hand me that bullshit about how it’s up to you and only you to protect us, don’t even go there. Because you’re good, but not even you can stop them by yourself. You need help. So swallow your fucking pride and admit that. That you can’t do it alone.”

“I’m not alone. I’be some my guys and Nik’s people and…”

“You were alone the other night,” Esme points out. “What was Nathan going to do from across the street? That is not helping. That’s YOUR version of helping. If you’re here, under the same room as all these people, Mahajan and his cronies won’t stand a chance. We’re safer if you’re here. And I think you realize that.”

“It’s putting a bigger target on you and the kids,” he argues. “If they figure out I’m here, they’ll show up.”

“Isn’t that what we want? Them out in the open? Let them come here. With all these people? With you? They won’t get very far, will they At least tell me you’re listening and not blocking me out. Usually I can read your face, but right now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not blocking you, babe. I’m listening.”

“It makes more sense for you to be here than it does for you to be out on the street where every goddamn gun will be pointed at you. If you’re here, there’s more control over the situation, right? You’d have the upper hand because you’d be familiar with the place and they wouldn’t. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t feel better being with us. That you don’t WANT to be here.”

“I do,” Tyler assures her. “It’s the only place I do want to be.”

“Then just do it. Just tell Anil that’s how it’s going to be. Explain to him why it makes the most sense. Deep down, you know this is the right thing to do. You know it’s better for us...especially the kids...if you’re here.  And I know you can’ deny that it would be better for you, too. Mentally speaking.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod. “You’re right.”

“Stop being so stubborn,” Esme implores. “This is not the time for that. You know this is the best way to handle things. I know you do. But I also know you hate taking advice from other people and that everything you do has to be your idea.”

He smirks. “You really DO know me well.”

“I so do. I also know I’m the only one who can talk like this to you and not have you get defensive. It’s too dangerous, Tyler. Especially now that Mahajan knows you’re in Mumbai and he’s stepping things up. You can’t be out on the street and you know it. I know that makes you feel useless. And weak. That you’re second guessing and doubting yourself. And you need to knock that shit off. Because you are the stronger, bravest person I know. And you’re the only one I trust with my life. With our kids’ lives. And I need you here. And you need to be here.”

He sighs, then pushes her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face and off her shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what? Insanely beautiful and phenomenally intelligent?”

“I was going to say a huge pain in my ass, but okay, I’ll give you those.”

“What are you so worried about? Mahajan’s people showing up?”

“I don’t exactly what them on the doorstep. I don’t want them where you are. Where the kids are.”

“How far could they get with all these people here? I practically can’t take a pee without someone with an AK following me to the bathroom. What do you think can happen when there’s that much firepower here?”

“That’s exactly it. Firepower. With my kids here.”

“I’m not worried about that. Half of Anil’s basement is a panic room. The kids and I will be fine.”

Tyler frowns.

“What?”

“Why the hell didn’t you mention that right off the hop? Why didn’t you tell me that an hour ago when we started talking about this?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I forgot,” Esme admits. “I’m sorry. I should have told  you about the panic basement.”

“I swear to God, for the last seven years, this is how our conversations have gone. We talk about something for an hour when it could have been solved in five minutes. You always leave out that one piece of information that could have saved us a lot fucking time.”

“I’m sorry…” she pouts dramatically, then places a line of kisses along his jaw, over his ear, and up onto his head. “...I know that annoys you. Do you still love me?”

“I do. But fuck, you’re a pain in my ass. No wonder I have gray hair and an ulcer.”

“You don’t have an ulcer.”

“Not yet. But when I get one, it’ll have your name on it.”

“I have a confession.”

He sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“I annoy you on purpose. Because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed. You get the cutest look on your face. It’s adorable. I can’t help myself. I’m sorry. I like your face and all your expressions. You have a really nice face.”

He grins. “I’m starting to really question your taste in men.”

“Please! You know you’re ridiculously good looking. It’s okay to be a bit conceited. I can forgive you for that if you can forgive me for being annoying.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty fucking annoying.”

She scowls, then bites down on his earlobe.

“Ow! Fuck sakes! What is wrong with you? I’m not hurt enough for you? Why you do me like that?”

“Because I know you like it. MY particular brand of pain. What are you going to do? Spank me?”

“You’d like that too much.”

“I would actually,” she says, and then shivers against him when his fingertips graze down her spine. Giggling and squirming against him when he grabs her ass and roughly squeezes  “That hurts!  What’s your issue?”

“You really want to know?”

Esme nods.

He removes his hand from her ass, then takes one of hers and places it on his crotch.

“Oh…” her eyes widen. “...that’s the only part of you that’s not hurt and IS working properly.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I am definitely not. Because I missed you. And I’m not talking the sappy and corny shit about missing you and your quirks and all the stupid shit you do.  Right now, I really miss having sex with you.”

“If you had just admitted that an hour ago, we could have skipped over a whole lot of drama.”

“We said things that needed to be said   and talked about things we needed to talk about. And now, I think you need to use your mouth for something else. IF you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I’m up to it. THAT anyways. Anything else, you might have to do the work. Or the majority of it anyway.”

“You mean I get to be in charge?”

He frowns. “I never said that.”

“You’re such a control freak,” she says, then pecks his lips before sling off the lounge chair and carefully removing a sleeping Addie from his chest. “I’m going to go and put her in her bed. And when I get back, you better be in mind. Naked. Ready to go. I’m not fucking around. Well, I AM. Fucking that is, You know what I mean.”

He’s grinning as he watches her ass move as she walks away. “How much DID you miss me?”

“Not THAT much, Tyler. Forget about it. It’s not our anniversary yet.”

“Early anniversary present?” He suggests hopefully.

“You wish!” She scoffs, then disappears into the house.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 44

Warnings: slight mention of drug use

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

He arrives fifteen minutes before the arranged meeting with McMann; knocking twice on the backdoor of the Slainte pub.  His eyes methodically observe every inch of the cluttered and dirty alley; slowly travelling back and forth between both ends, checking for any movement within the alcoves of the rear entrances of other establishments, skirting under the bottoms of dumpsters (a perfect hiding spot for someone lying in wait),  glancing up at the various fire escapes and windows.  When Billy Flynn had offered up the use of his bar, Tyler had been skeptical; would McMann really be willing to meet in a place that was widely known to be owned by a member of the IRA? After all, he'd burned many a bridge within the organization and he knew they were out to get him. You didn't fuck with the IRA; once you were branded a trouble maker, you remained forever on their shit list. Their resources are fast and stretch all over the globe; money, weapons, hired gun. Far more powerful and influential than most realize. McMann had every right not to agree with meeting  him there. As far as he knew, there could be dozens of guys just waiting for the chance to take a shot at him.   But Tyler had reassured him that the last thing he'd wanted was to stir up trouble; it was safer for both of them if they met somewhere public. Where neither of them could get the drop on each other.

“You're fucking late!”  Flynn admonishes, shoving open the heavy metal door. “What the hell, man?”

“Something came up. I had to take care of it. Were my guys here? Setting up the tech?”

“Left about half an hour ago. That one lad is quite the trip. The one who thinks he's the boss but is just a right old shit head. Bossing everyone around, thinking he can talk to me like one of his sheep. Fuck that. He's got the wrong man if he thinks I'm putting up with that shit.”

Tyler smirks. “That's my wife's ex husband.”

“Get the fuck out, for real? What did she ever see in him? He's  a right wanker.  And I'd like say she traded up when she went from him to you, but you're not exactly a prize yourself with that weird hair thing you've got going on for ya.”

Flynn leads the way through the kitchen, and Tyler gives a small smile and a polite nod to the only two staff members Flynn had called in; a short order cook and a waitress.  He'd promised they were loyal and reliable; no loose lips that would run to the authorities or even spread stories out in the community. Their silence was expected, and if it wasn't received, there would be harsh consequences.

“Did you tell him?” Flynn asks, as he pushes his way through the swinging door that leads out into the main area of the bar.  “To go to the backdoor? The last thing I need is some of the other boys seeing him on his way in here and ending things before they start.”

“I told him it was for his own safety. Less eyes out back. You talk to your people yet?”

“Tomorrow morning. Nine am. You're welcome to come along if you like. They'd probably like a face to put to the name. Your life isn't in jeopardy with us. We don't want to kill you, Rake. We would have done it the second you stepped off the plane if we really wanted to. What?” he smirks when he sees Tyler raise one of his eyebrows. “ You think we haven't had people watching you?  You're a smart man. You know how these things work. It's just business. What I don't know how is how you managed to keep the wife a secret. Not one of the boys saw her until she stepped foot in here that first night.”

“We protect what we love, yeah? I wasn't taking any chances. Not with her.”

“That's a kick in the nuts, you know. The fact she was able to get one over on me like that. Never in a million years did I dream she wasn't who she said she was. She's good. Too good. There's room for both of you if you want, within the family. You both have skill sets we sorely need. We'd make it worth your while. Money wise. Your kids will grow up wanting for nothing.”

“It's a tempting offer, but it's not for us. This is it for me. The last job. Then I'm on to bigger and better things. Running the job behind the scenes.”

“Talk about pissing away your talents. You're far too strong and far too good to be stuck behind the scenes. We need you out there on the streets, getting your hands dirty. But, if you feel that's what you have to do...”

“It's what's best for my family. I haven't been the best man or husband over the past few years. I have a lot  to make up for. If this is what will keep my marriage going and my family together, it's something I have to do. I'm not losing my wife or my kids because of the job.”

“Well if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. You've got our respect, Rake. You walked in here like you owned the fucking place. Not scared of shit. You can't be pushed around. That's what we look for in our people.  It's why you should tag along tomorrow. Meet the boys for yourself. I know they're wanting to meet you. The man, the myth, the legend. You've always just been a ghost. No one ever knew for sure if you even existed. And now, here you are.”

“Yeah...” Tyler smirks. “...here I am.”

Flynn pours both of them a beer from the best that he has on tap, then offers a toast. “So this is really it for you? The last job?”

“That's what I promised my wife.”

“It's what broke me and the ex missus. The kind of life I lead. She didn't think it was safe enough to raise my boy around. I told her there's probably no safer place than being surrounded by the people I have around me. But she saw it a different way. She didn't see it as protection. She saw it as putting targets on their targets.  Same thing for you?”

“It's a lot of things,” Tyler says, and sips his beer. “A lot of little things that all roll up into one big thing.”

“You gotta be happy doing what you do, I figure. Because if you're not happy, no one is happy. Say you do give this up...this life you lead...and you get settled into this new job and you find you absolutely fucking hate it. What happens then? You're the type that can sit still for long. I can tell just by looking at you. A guy doesn't do what you've be doing for as long as you have, by just sitting on your ass. You're going to be bored as fuck and you're going to just be itching to back out there. And you'll be able to fight it at first. But you're going to cave. Eventually.”

“Naw, mate. I have too much to lose. The man I was before I took on a wife and kids? That man had nothing to lose. He would have stayed on the job until he was too fucking old to do it, or someone managed to finally take him out.  I'm not that man anymore.  I've got people relying on me. I've got mouths to feed. I want to see my kids grow up. I want to see my grand kids, even. And that won't happen if I stay in this life. Because she's either going to leave me, or I'm going to die. Those are the only two options.”

“And when you get bored and go back to it? What then? You're still going to end up losing her. And your kids. Better to just stick out and see if you can make it work, don't you think?”

“This is the right decision,” he insists. “The only decision.”

“Fair enough. It's your life. You know what you gotta do. I'm just saying, keep your options open. Don't jump the gun.  Think both sides through. I mean, if she stuck with you this long, chances are she's not going anywhere regardless of what you decide to do.”

“She deserves better than this. Better than this life. And so do my kids. So I appreciate what you're saying and what you're trying to do, but you don't know what's going on behind the scenes. Just how bad things actually are. And I kind of don't want to talk about. That's not what I'm here for. So if you don't mind...”

“Alright...alright...” Billy holds up his hands is surrender. “So, I've got the front door all locked up. Note on it says there's a private event going on and to basically fuck off and come back later.  I got two of your boys upstairs, another one across the street, and I got the missus' ex back in my office. All listening in.  A buddy of mine is going to leave a van out in the alley way that you can use to get McMann to wherever you're going to take him. I don't know what you've got planned for him, and I don't even think I want to know. Judging by that look in your eyes, the old boy is in for a world of hurt.”

“I just want payback. And I want it to be as drawn out and painful as possible.”

“I don't care what you to do him, but if we agree to your terms, we need McMann alive. If he isn't alive, you don't get our help, understand? If we come to get him and he's not breathing, our people bail and then your kids will be left to fend for themselves. We don't do favours for just anyone. You want our help, you better hold up your end of the bargain. Don't fuck us.”

“McMann will be alive. He might be missing some parts, but he'll be very much alive. Your people have to hold up to their end of things too. They have to kill him when they're done doing whatever they're going to do to him. Because I don't want this bloke suddenly showing up on my doorstep a year from now, looking for revenge. His life ends. That's the deal.”

“Oh his life will end,” Flynn assures him.  “Just maybe not as soon as he would hope. Here...” he reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and produces a small glass vial of white powder. “...this is the stuff I was telling you about. This isn't your average roofie. This will knock a horse onto its own ass. Don't put the whole thing in his drink. He'll drop dead.  Couple sprinkles should do it. That'll have him out cold for a few hours at least. You sure you're alright with this part? Don't fuck it up. And whatever you do, don't accidentally roofie yourself, okay?”

“I'm good with it,” Tyler assures him, and pockets the vial of drugs.

“Keep what's left. You can use it to really fuck with his head when you get him to wherever he's going. Make it real fun for the old boy. Just for me. I won't be too upset if he gets to us missing an ear or a couple of fingers, I'm just saying.”

Tyler's SAT phone vibrates in his jeans, and he pulls it out to check it.

“I take it that fucker has arrived,” Flynn observes.

“Just getting out of his car now. My guy across the street has an eye on him. Says he's alone.”

“He's not dumb enough to bring people in here. He'd never get out alive. Now remember what I said; only a little bit of that shit. Don't OD him, for fuck sakes. That's too quick and too painless for the likes of that bastard. Third booth on the left. Your boy put a listening device under it. Said you just have to turn it on and you're good to go. You good? You got this?”

Tyler nods, takes a swig of his beer.  “I got this.”

****

“You got a lot of fucking nerve, Rake,”  McMann hisses, as he slips into the seat across from Tyler. “Calling me up, demanding I meet you. I'd rather put a bullet between your eyes.”

He smirks. “That's not mates, Michael. I thought we were mates. What ever happened to you practically crying on my shoulder, needing my help? Giving me some fucking sob story about your wife and your kids? You're good. I'll give you that. But I'm better.”

“We'll see about that, won't we.  And here...” McMann gestures towards the bar. “...of all places, you sneaky fucker. You knew all along who owns this place. You knew I could be killed just walking into here.”

“If you're so scared of that, why'd you even show up? Why didn't you tell me to just go and fuck myself? I mean, you want me dead, yeah? It's the whole reason you showed up in Guatemala isn't? It was never about your family. You never really wanted my help. You just wanted to kill me.”

McMann stares at him, nostrils flaring, lips set in a grim line.

“I know all your dirty secrets, mate. Every single last one. I know that Jason Andrews' brother hired you. That's who contacted you, yeah? Don't look so surprised. I'm not just a pretty face, you know.  I know he hired you to avenge his brother. Who was a psychotic dick bag that deserved the two I put into him.  Did he even tell you what his brother did? Did you tell you that he was going to kill my wife? My pregnant wife. Jason was a fucking coward. And he got what he deserved. In the same way you will.”

“I have to hand it to you, Aussie,” McMann smirks. “You're smarter than I give you credit for.”

“And when you didn't get the job done....when you killed the kid that caught onto you...you followed me back to Colorado. You watched every move I made. You watched my wife. You watched my kids. That's some sick shit. And that's a line you never should have crossed. Why'd you kill the girl? Erin? Did you do that yourself or...?”

“I was the one who ordered it. I didn't do it myself.”

“Typical for blokes like you. You don't have the stones to do it yourself. You just delegate, yeah? You don't get your hands dirty? I bet you had some fun with her first though, didn't you. I bet your boys weren't the only ones that raped her. You left some real sick shit for me to find. Did you do it? Did you violate her too? Or did you just stand back and watch?”

The corner of McMann's twitches.

“That was a message, right? That you were sending me. You wanted me to know what your boys were capable of. That they'd hurt me where it hurts the most.  That they wouldn't stop at hurting my wife. You knew she'd be with me. You knew she'd figure you out before I would. That's why you left that girl there for me to find. It was a message. How'd you know? That we'd be there?”

“You think the brother is the only person I have handing me things, Rake. This goes way deeper than you could even possibly begin to imagine. There's a lot of rats in your ship. And it's always the ones you least expect.  I'm not the only threat out there.  There's other people watching you. There's other people just waiting to take their shot at you. If you think I'm the only one that wants your head, you're one naive motherfucker.”

“Mate, I've had a target on my back for years.  If I worried about shit like that, I'd never leave the house. Who was it? That told you we'd be at your house.”

“You know....”  McMann waves Billy over as he stands behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest as he pretends to be interested in the soccer match on the television. “..you should really watch who your trust. There's someone getting a little too close to that pretty little wife of yours.  I'd really hate to see anything happen to her. You're the one we want. Not her. But if that's the route we have to take...”

“It's on the house,” Billy says, as he slams the mug of beer down onto the table top with enough force to send some of the amber ale splashing over onto the sides, onto the wood, and down onto McMann's lap.  “And some on you, apparently. I won't charge a clean up fee for the mess you just made.”

“Stupid fuck,” McMann mutters, furiously ripping napkins from the holder on the window ledge, sopping up the mess on the table top as Billy saunters off, returning to the soccer match. “I'm not finished with you, Aussie,” he says, as he slides out of the booth. “Not by a long shot.”

Tyler shrugs, lifts his own drink to his mouth. “I got all day and all night, mate.”

He mutters profanities and thinly veiled death threats as he stomps off in the direction of the restrooms.  Tyler waits; calmly sipping his drink, counting the seconds in his head, until he hears the tell tale creak of rusted metal hinges on the lavatory's old wooden door, then glances over his shoulder at the younger man behind the bar.

Billy doesn't even look in his direction; offering a curt nod.

He pulls the vial out of his pocket and pops off the cap;  carefully shaking some of the white powdery substances into the beer, using the handle of a fork to vigorously stir the liquid;, watching as the drug quickly dissolves, leaving no tell tale sign that the drink had ever been tampered with.  Then uses a napkin to clear any wayward drops of beer of the table top and try the handle of the fork, replacing it among the other unused utensils arranged in front of him.

From across the room, Billy clears his throat noisily; signalling McMann's return. And Tyler hurriedly puts the cap back onto the vial and slips it back into his pocket.

“So what were you saying, mate?” he calmly asks as the other man returns to his seat. “Something about my pretty little wife? Sounded like you were about to make a threat of some sort. You sure you want to do that? Bring her into this? Because there's some things that send me into a blind rage. And someone threatening her is at the top of that list. But if you think it's a smart thing to do...”

“You talk a big game, Aussie. I've always wondered if you can play it as big as you talk.”

“I fucked up four of your men. That you sent to kill me. I put them in the morgue. So yeah, I can play it as big as I can talk it. This is twice you fucked up. Two times now you haven't been able to kill me. That must be a real kick in the nuts, huh? If a bullet to the throat in Dhaka couldn't kill me, what makes you think you can?”

“There's ways. Ways to get to you. Catch you with your guard down. Hurt you where it will hurt the most. You're right, Erin was a message. We wanted you to find her. See what we did to her. Is that what you want happening to your wife? Is that the last memory of her that you want? Watching what we do to her? We'd make sure you were wide awake for the whole thing. So you could see it. So you could hear her. So you could hear her screaming at us to stop, screaming for you to help her. And you not being able to do a damn thing about it. And then we'd kill both of you.”

It takes everything Tyler has not to reach across the table and choke the life out of the man, or to slam his head off the table and then give him an ass kicking off a lifetime. Stopping just before death reaches him so that McMann can catch his breath, then beating him until there is no life left inside of him.  But he holds it together; diverting his eyes so McMann can't see the fury brewing in them, taking a long, slow sip of his beer. Trying not to smirk when the other man does the same.

“That doesn't bother you?” McMann asks. “Hearing that? Hearing what we'd do to her?”

“Nothing bothers me after so many years on the job. I've heard it all. Seen it all. Nothing surprises me anymore. You're the first that's ever used his own kids though. Now that is some sick shit. Why? Why do that to your own kids? How fucked in the head do you have to be? Where are they? The kids?”

“You'll never find them. No one ever will.”

“Why keep doing this to them? I've already figured out what you're up to. What's the point of keeping up with this game? Why keep torturing them like that? Those are your kids. You're blood. Why do this? What kind of sick fuck are you?”

“I have reasons. For doing the things I do.”

“I'll find them, you know. I'll find those kids. Whether you tell me where they are or not.”

McMann smirks. “Good luck.”

“Of course, it would be a lot easier on you if you'd just tell me. If you'd just tell me where you've got them so I can just go and get them. I'm not going to leave them there. You knew I wouldn't. You knew once you brought me into this, that I wouldn't give up on finding them.”

“I was counting on it.”

“Where are they? Where's the kids?”

“I'm not handing you all the answers. Aussie. There's some things you need to find out for yourself.”

“They're not in Ireland, are they. You've moved them. That's why we haven't gotten proof of life in four days. You were having those pictures hand delivered. Now there's no one left here to bring them to me. Where are they?”

McMann opens his mouth to speak; quickly clamping it shut.  He's sweating profusely; beads of perspiration glistening across his forehead, trickling down his temples,  dripping from the tip of his nose. Eyes wide and wild; a mixture of the effects of the drugs and the pure, unadulterated fear.  

“Not feeling so good, are you, mate,” Tyler smirks, casually slipping his beer.  “I bet your heart's just about ready to jump out of your chest isn't it. I bet you're not seeing right either; you're probably seeing three of me, seeing shit that's not even there.”

“What...did...you...do....”

“I told you. I told you not to fuck with my family. I told you that if I found out that this was all a big game, I'd come after you. That I'd make you pay. Well guess what, mate. That time has come. You're going to pay. And you're going to regret the day you ever came to Colorado. You're going to regret that you ever walked into that ice cream place and laid eyes on my kids.”

McMann stumbles to his feet, as if in an attempt to lunge at Tyler, but then crumples, already unconscious when his forehead slams off the table.

“Well fuck...” Billy's grinning as he rushes over. “...that was quicker than I thought it would happen. You didn't kill him, did you? You didn't give him the whole vial, I hope.”

“I gave exactly what you said to give him,” Tyler stands and leans across the table, pressing his index and middle finger to McMann's throat.  “He's breathing. Fucked up. But breathing. You weren't joking about that stuff, mate. It packs a punch.”

“Van's out back. Let's get this asshole out of here. Your guys are already outside. You got him? You take his feet. He's a heavy fucker.”

The job takes minimal effort with the two of them; one holding the unconscious man under the arms, the other taking him by the legs. And Mark is already at the back door, holding it open, allowing them to pass through and into the alley.

“You fucked him up pretty good!” Nathan excitedly exclaims from where he sits in the front passenger seat, watching everything unfold over his shoulder. “He alive?”

“You thought I'd let him off that easily?” Tyler asks, as he and Billy load McMann into the back. “He has to pay, yeah? For what he did to your buddy? For threatening my family? Death would be too easy for this asshole.”

“Drop the van back off here,” Billy says.  “I'll clean out any sign that he was in it. That any of you were in it. Just in case.”

“Thanks for watching my back, mate,” Tyler offers a hand, and the younger man firmly shakes it. “Hear from you in a couple days, yeah?”

“One way or the other. In the meantime, have fun with the old boy. Get some shots in just for me. Make the fucker pay. For ever going near your kids.”

“I plan on it,” Tyler says, and then pulls the sliding door shut.

Billy bangs his hand against the side of the vehicle, signally for the driver to pull away.

*****

He calls her from the storage facility; the signal mediocre at best as he stands in the hallway just mere feet from where an unconscious Michael McMann,  hood over his eyes, is now restrained to a metal chair.  Hands behind his back, wrists and ankles secured with plastic zip ties, a heavy metal chain wrapped around his torso in order to keep him upright.  And he watches as Yaz wraps the tracking bracelet around McMann's ankle and adjusts the signal.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, hearing the grogginess in her voice.

“Yeah...” she yawns noisily.  “...I must have dozed off. I've just been so tired.  Is it done?”

“It's done,” Tyler confirms.

“You're okay?”  

“Not a scratch on me. Well, none that weren't there before.”

She breathes a sigh of relief.  “So they have him now? Mark and his buddies?”

“Yep. It's in their hands now. Until the IRA decides what they want to do. If they don't want him...well I guess it's up to me to do something with him.  Did you eat?”

“No. I was going to wait for you to get back. Now that we don't have to worry about McMann and we know the IRA is on our side, I figured it would be safe for us to leave the hotel. That way we can actually go somewhere together. You can take me out on another date.”

He grins. “I could do that.”

“So it's a date?”

“Yeah, it's a date.”

“The baby wants tacos. Just so you know.”

“Somehow I doubt she's making food demands this early in the game, but if that's what you want to eat....”

“You're really convinced that it's a girl, aren't you.”

“I am. And not just because of that dream. Something's just telling me that it is.”

“Well, you make an amazing dad. But you make an epic girl dad.”

He smiles.

“I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you, too Esme. I'll see you soon.”

“Bet your ass you will,” she says, and disconnects the call.

He slips his phone into the pocket of his jeans and steps into the locker that has become McMann's temporary home.  Zak's taken first watch; already sitting in the corner on a plastic lawn chair, a bag of take out food on the table next to him.

“He's going to be out for a while,” Yaz says, as he steps beside Tyler. “How much did you give him?”

“A little more than I was supposed to. But not enough to kill him. Here,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the vial. “In case he wakes up and starts causing trouble. There's enough left to fuck him up pretty good.”

“You'll be back tomorrow?”

Tyler nods. “First thing in the morning. What do you want me to bring you for breakfast?”

“Something hot and greasy. I'll text you.”

“You know, he said something that I can't get out of my head. About there being more rats in the ship. He said that someone was getting too close to Esme. That I shouldn't trust them.”

“That could be anybody,” Yaz concludes.  “Anyone that we've just started working with anyway. Maybe that Tanis chick?”

“Naw. I don't think it's her. That would be too obvious. Your sister have any other new people working for her now?”

“None. Just Jason Andrews' brother. And he's being 'taken care of'. I heard the things he said, Tyler. About Esme. About the things they would have done to her. You okay? With hearing that?”

“No really,” he admits. “That was hard to hear.”

“She's safe now. With him off the street. And she's safe with you. Just stick close to her side. Nothing will happen to her. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” Tyler confirms, then claps him on the shoulder and heads for the door. “How's the nose?” he asks with a smirk, as Mark steps in before he can exit.

“You're a real arrogant prick, Rake,” he retorts.  

“I've been called worse by better.”

“Where the hell you think you're going?” Mark calls after him, as he heads down the hall.

“I'm going to spend time with my girl,” he replies.  “With my wife. You had one of those once, remember? Oh that's right. The same one I have now. Take care of that nose.”

And with that he steps out into the brilliant Belfast sunshine.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 12

Warnings: none

Tagging: @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

Preparing to leave the house with five kids in tow is a full-time job all in itself. Bathing them after a long and active day at school, getting them dressed –which includes incessant bitching and moaning about the textures of clothes and how the tags are ‘too itchy’, having to actually put on socks and shoes-,  and giving them the usual list of warnings before even stepping out the front door. No arguing, no fighting, and no bad language. And by the time you manage to get to the front door, at least two have to go to the bathroom and another wants to change what they’re wearing.   This time it’s Millie; her self-described princess dress suddenly not ‘princessy enough’. Opting for one with more frills and more sparkles and way too much pink, then insisting on topping the look off with her well-worn light up Spiderman sandals.  Tyler had long ago learned to pick his battles, especially as a girl dad. Was suggesting nicer shoes really worth the epic diva style meltdown he’d have to endure? Especially when he’d rather be in flip flops or even bare foot himself?

“I honestly do not care,” he says, when she holds aloft the sandals with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Other parents would force their kids to comply; embarrassed by the mismatched lock. But he’s gotten so used to carting around boys dressed in superhero costumes –masks and all- that the stares and whispers of strangers don’t both him anymore. And fighting over shoes with a soon to be six-year-old is not the hill he wants to die on. “Do what you want.”  

For a brief moment –as he buckles the three oldest into the their car seats in the very back of their second, and much larger, vehicle, he muses about just how different his was now is compared to the one that he used to live. When he was drunk off of his practically twenty-four seven, numbing the pain, guilt, and grief with a potent combination of booze and pain meds.  Back in that little shack of his in the Outback, with nothing but a dog and a chicken to keep him company. When he was totally committed to the job and spending his days fighting to keep himself –and quite often someone else- alive in dangerous situations. When he was battered and bloody and sometimes on the brink of death. Now he’s proficient in changing diapers, fixing bottles, and making and packing school lunches.  A far cry from the old days.  And for a brief moment, the thought makes him feels sad; that his existence is nothing more than a mere shadow of what it used to be. That he’s gone from one extreme to the other.  And it shouldn’t; he’d made the conscious decision to give it all up. For his family. So he’d be able to hold his marriage together.  

And the sadness is replaced with guilt; that he’d miss the job while getting the opportunity to even have kids and watch them grow. A lot of guys in the job weren’t so lucky; they either never turned alive to their wives and kids, or their marriages completely disintegrated, and they never saw their children again. That’s his worst nightmare; things falling apart and either rarely getting to spend time with them, or not being able to see them at all.  Being a dad has given him something to take pride in; raising tiny humans that will hopefully one day grow up to be amazing big humans.  Decent adults with compassion and humility. Fiercely independent. Alarmingly intelligent. And it’s given him a chance to finally do it right.  He’d been an epic failure as a father with Austin; he’d been cowardly and selfish and would never truly forgive himself for it.  But he’d been given another chance; entrusted with helping bring five beautiful lives into the world.  And he’s determined not to fuck that up.

“I don’t wanna wear shoes!” TJ laments, and proceeds to use his toes to push his sneakers off one heel, then the other, letting the offending items fall to the floor of the SUV.

“Listen, mate. We’re not going to fight about this. If your mum says you wear shoes, you wear the shoes.”

“This is crap!” Tanner chimes in. “My feet are so hot! Like they’re gonna catch on fire!”

“No one’s feet are going to catch on fire,” Tyler assures him. “You’re wearing the thinnest socks possible. We get there, the shoes go back on. And how come you guys don’t have to wear normal pants?”  They’re clad in matching tan cargo shorts; one in a green and white stripped golf shirt, the other in blue and white.  Always insisting on matching in some way, despite the fact their parents have purposely dressing them differently from day one.  

“’Cause we’re only five!” Tanner huffs, as if he’s just been subjected to the dumbest question that’s ever been asked in the history of mankind.

“By the way,” Tyler says, as he finishes buckling Tanner into his seat. “I want my fifteen bucks back that you scammed me out of the other night.”

“I got that money fair and square,” his son argues. “I got you the info just like you asked.”

“Your mom gave me the info. Which technically means half of the money should go to her.”

“It’s not my fault that you fell for it, daddy. You should be smarter than that. You got totally played by a five-year-old.”

“He’s not wrong,” Esme says as she appears alongside of him, clutching Declan by the hand, the baby resting along her forearm. “You did fall for it.”

“You’re in on this together, aren’t you? You probably put him up to it. You’ve been teaching him some of the tricks of the trade. Getting him ready to follow in your footsteps. I bet he even split the money with you.”

“Please just put the kids in the car before we’re really late,” she implores, then stands on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. Which in turns prompts loud and dramatic gagging from all three of the older kids.

“Don’t do that!” TJ cries. “We don’t need any more babies in the house! Why can’t we have a puppy for a change? I don’t want any more sisters!”

“Well I don’t want any more brothers either,” Millie retorts, and sticks her tongue at him.

“Okay, don’t start.” Esme warns. “At least wait until we’re out of the driveway. And besides, it takes a lot more than that to get a baby brother or sister.”

“Like what?” Millie inquires.”

“Like none of your business,” Tyler replies as he tends to Declan, scooping him of the ground and settling him into his car seat. “Besides, there won’t be any more brothers or sisters. It’s not possible.”

“Can we get a dog then?” Tanner asks

“We already have a dog,” his mother reminds him.

“Let’s get another one!” Millie enthuses. “A puppy!”

“I have enough mouths to feed and barely any sanity left.”  Esme says, and passes the baby to her husband, who arches a brow and stares at her pointedly over the dog comment. “Not you too!”

“It’s not a bad idea. We’ve got the room. Inside and outside.”

“Please don’t encourage them. They won’t stop talking about it now. They’re going to ask a million times a day about getting a puppy and I don’t think my mental well-being can take it.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he says, then kisses her and shit the SUV door.  

“Oh, you think so do you,” she grins, then runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; smoothing out the wrinkles in his simple white dress shirt., the first three buttons undone and no tie; paired with dark washed jeans that fit ‘just right’. Beard still full but neatly trimmed, the product in his hair giving it that unruly ‘bed head’ look. “You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” he chides, and then places a hand on her hip and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he praises, as his hand slides up the middle of her back. The dress is simple and modest; emerald green and off the shoulder, flaring out at the waist and just skimming the bottom of her knees.  

She’s still self-conscious about her post-baby body; she’d on twenty-five pounds and had damaged to drop fifteen of them seemingly overnight after Addie was born. She hates the extra weight that clings to her hips and gathers at her waist; despises the stretch marks that mar her skin. Yet to him they just make her even more beautiful; the signs left behind that she’s given him children.  There’s no woman in the world that could ever hold a candle to her. It stretches far beyond physical appearance. It’s her strength and her tenacity and the loyalty that that she’s always shown towards him and their kids. And it’s the way she looks at him; as if he’s the most incredible man on the planet even though there’s times he’s shown he’s anything but.

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. Even after six and a half years of marriage she’s still not used to his random compliments. Mark had all but destroyed every ounce of self-esteem she’d ever had, so Tyler had taken it upon himself to help rebuilt it every chance he got. Whether it’s when she’d dressed up with her done and make up on, or when she’s worn down from lack sleep and her hair is messy and she’s still in her pajamas with baby puke stains on them.

“I’m serious,” he says, as his hand slides down to the small of her back and his lips find hers; soft, slow, simple kiss. “You look incredible.”

She smiles. A genuine, glowing smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle and dance. And with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tip toes once again and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then lays her hand against the side of his face and runs the end of pad of her thumb over his lips, her eyes never leaving his.

It’s the sincerest ‘thank you’ he’s ever received.

****

Nik and Kyle have a room at Sovreign Resort Hotel, and they’ve arranged to meet on the outdoor patio belonging to the in-house restaurant. It’s better for the kids; no cooping them up in a crowded, busy room and expecting them to sit still and keep quiet. Being outside gives them a chance to breathe; away from the hustle and bustle and all the judgmental stares and comments if they dare step out of line.  There are gardens and fishponds to investigate when they get bored or agitated and need some time to decompress, and room for a high chair for Declan and Addie’s stroller, giving her a comfortable and safe place to retreat to while the others eat and converse.

“Now I know why we don’t go out more often,” Esme comments, as she notices the curious looks and hears the comments tossed their way. A fairly young couple with so many kids, all close together in age.  Most find it cute; drawn to the twins in their complimenting outfits and Millie in her princess dress, but there’s the bitchy people as well. The ‘children should be seen and not heard’ crowd that find it ridiculous –and maybe even disgusting- that people are willingly having such large families in this day and age. “People are staring at us,” she frets. “And whispering.”

Tyler moves Declan from one hip to the other, than lays a hand on the back of her neck and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Want me to tell them that I have weak pull out game? Lighten the mood?”

“I’d laugh but I wouldn’t but it past you do actually do something like that.  Seriously, what is everyone’s issue?”

“Who gives a shit.  Just ignore it. Maybe it bothers them because it’s obvious by all the kids that we’ve had more sex in five years than they’ve had in fifty.”

Normally it would aggravate him, that kind of attention and all the talk. But he’d taken half a dozen Ativan before getting out of the car and the effects are already starting to take hold.  He’s relaxed. The calmest he’s been in the past four days. Although he’s pretty sure having to be in Nik’s presence and enduring her version of ‘small talk’ will change that.

Nik and Kyle have already arrived; sitting side by side at a large table near the edge of the patio, leaning into one another, foreheads nearly touching as they talk, their hands joined on top of the table.

“I’m going to be sick,” Esme mutters. “Ughhhh. The way she’s looking at him. He’s way too good for her. Let’s just leave. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. If we just sneak out now...”

Kyle has spotted them and is already on his feet and making his way towards them; the kids so focused on their surroundings that they’re completely unsuspecting until he’s within five feet, noisily clearing his throat to grab their attention.

“Uncle Kyle!” Millie cries, and is the first to break away, the soles of those old sandals flapping against the concreate patio as she rushes to where he’s already crouched down, arms outstretched, gathering her into them and pulling her tight against him.    

The twins follow suit; shrieking his name as they run towards him, finding themselves enveloped by his strong arms and gathered into a bear hug along with their sister.  Tears sparkling in Kyle’s eyes as he showers them with kisses and tousles their hair and listens to their excited ramblings; all three talking at the same time, filling him in on all the excitement and adventures they’ve experienced in the past six months.   And Tyler notices that Nik doesn’t budge from the table, sipping at a glass of wine and never acknowledging the scene playing out in front of her.

“Wish me luck,” Esme sighs, and he gives a reassuring before taken Declan from him, carrying him on her hip and pushing the baby in the stroller as she herds the other three towards the table to get them settled.  

He watches as the two women exchange tight lipped smiles; Esme’s one of lingering bitterness and anger, Nik’s filled with a hint of remorse and maybe even regret.   And how his wife holds it together despite wanting to completely unleash on her old friend; instead patiently getting the kids settled and Declan strapped into a highchair. He knows it’s difficult for her; his ‘history’ with Nik still the elephant that lingers in the room, the other issues that she’s caused over the past six and a half years adding insult to injury.

“Good to see you, man,” Kyle gives him an awkward one-armed hug and then claps him on the shoulder. “What the has she been feeding you? You’re a fucking tank.”

“Just a lot of hours in the gym. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Things are good with you?”  

Their relationship has been strained; not just because of the thousands of miles between them and Kyle holding him responsible for yet again ‘stealing’ his sister, but the ongoing hostility with Nik.  The last time they’d talked, Tyler hadn’t been kind; letting her know to stay the hell away from him, to never contact him again. He’d been harsh. He’s the first one to admit that.  But it had worked. At least until now.

“Things are good,” Kyle says, and then glances over his shoulder at Nik, a smile curving his lips. “Things are really good. What about here? You guys are doing alright? The kids seem happier.”

“We’re all happier. It was the right thing to do. Coming back here.”

“She’s struggling though,” Kyle nods in the direction of his sister. “Don’t even try and tell me she’s not.”

“She’d be struggling a lot less if you have just listened and kept Nik away. It wasn’t enough you’re marrying her considering everything in the past? You had to make things worse by bringing her here?”

“We hadn’t heard from you guys yet. About the wedding.”

“And that means you come all the way here and fuck things up? You have a phone. You've got the internet. Send an email. Don’t just show up. We’re still trying to get past all of this. Nik and her shit, the job.”

"It was her idea. Nik’s. To come here and try and make things. Patch things up. I told her that I didn’t know if either you or Esme were ready for that that yet, but....”

He frowns. “It was her idea?”

Kyle nods. “She wanted to make amends. In person.”

“She told you that? That that’s why we wanted to come here?”

You poor delusional bastard, Tyler thinks. Kyle’s being played and manipulated in the say way she’d messed with him.  Nik always has an ulterior motive. And Kyle is either blind to it, doesn’t give a shit, or genuinely doesn’t realize what she’s capable of.  

He decides it’s the latter.

“We want you guys at the wedding,” Kyle says. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and Esme, we never would have met.”

He feels as if he should apologize in advance.  Because six months from now, Kyle’s going to realize just what kind of shit show he’s gotten himself into. “

“And we want the kids there,” Kyle continues. “Millie could be the flower girl, the twins could be junior ushers, Declan could carry the ring up. We want it to be a family affair.

The last thing Tyler wants it to be stuck anywhere with Esme’s family. He doesn’t give a shit about their feelings towards him. If they want to spend the rest of their lives hating him and viewing him as the enemy, so be it. But the way they’ve treated her.... his wife...is unacceptable. And the worst place to air those grievances is at the wedding of the only member of that clan he can actually stand.

“Won’t be the same without all of you,” Kyle says. “I mean, we’re family.”

Tyler wouldn’t go that far. You usually don’t become family with someone you used to casually fuck,

“This is a big deal for her,” his brother in law continues. “Wanting to come here. Wanting to make things right.”

“And you really think that’s why she wanted to come here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She hasn’t given me a reason not to believe her. Why?”  his eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you know Nik as well as you think you do,” Tyler says, then gives him a sympathetic pat on shoulder before heading for the table.

****

“You’re here to take daddy away, aren’t you.” Millie voice is accusatory and full of venom; eyes narrowed as she regards Nik from across the table.  

Dinner is long finished; all dirty dishes and cutlery cleared away in favor of tea and coffee for the adults and ice cream for the kids. His daughter has been glued to his side all night, Nik bringing out the clingy and protective side of her. Nearly causing a fight with Tanner when he initially wouldn’t give up the seat to Tyler’s right. Then climbing up into his lap as soon as the meal was finished; sitting sideways on his thighs, an arm curled tightly around his neck.

Esme shifts uncomfortably beside him, then noisily clears her throat and reaches for a glass of ice water.  He takes her hand, squeezing it tightly before placing their joined hands on her thigh.  

“No one is taking anyone away,” he assures his daughter.

“That's what you said last time,” Millie reminds him. “And then you were gone forever.”

“Well this time is different.  I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Kyle just came to see you guys. So she tagged along. Nothing more than that.”

“She is your Aunt,” Kyle speaks up. “It’s okay if you guys call her that even if certain people don’t want to acknowledge it or accept it.”

Esme clears her throat once more, hand tightening around Tyler’s.

Millie isn’t convinced. “If I wake up tomorrow and my daddy's gone, I’m going to be really pissed!”

“Okay, calm down,” Tyler presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. So just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Millie turns to face him, then kneels on his laps as she leans in close and whispers. “I don’t trust her, daddy.”

“It’s a long way to come,” Esme pipes up. “Just because you missed the kids. Web cam chats do exist, you know.”

“It’s not the same,” Kyle says. “And things are slow right now for Nik and I had some vacation time owe to me, so...well...here we are.”

“Yeah,” Esme gives a tense smile. “Here you guys are.”

Tyler moves Mille over to his other thigh, then let’s go his wife’s hand in favor of laying his arm across the back of her chair, thumb repeatedly brushing against her shoulder.

“We thought it was time to smooth things out,” Kyle explains. “Before the wedding. So things aren’t tense that day like they are now. I mean, it’s been six months. Time to let it go, don’t you think.”

“I think you’re underestimating what the nearly six years before were like,” his sister calmly responds. “Or am I just supposed to pretend they never happened?  That she...sorry.... you...” she looks over at Nik. “...never pulled all the bullshit you did?”

“Mommy.” Tanner looks up from his ice cream. “That’s a bad word. Daddy said no bad words tonight.”

“You’re right,” she says, and then gives her son a smile and wraps an arm around him, drawing him tight against her. “Bad mommy,” she scolds herself, and then runs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss to his cheek.

“No one is saying that you have to forget about all of that or pretend it never happened.” Kyle informs her. “But wouldn’t you rather iron things out so you’re carrying around so much animosity?”

“Oh, that’s rich, K. Maybe you should be addressing your future wife’s animosity. And how she was so pissed at Tyler and I that she was willing to leave us both on a bridge in Dhaka to die.”

“Okay...no one needs to hear about this,” Tyler says, and rubs her shoulder. “Especially little ears.”

“I’ve already apologized for that,” Nik finally speaks. “Countless times. But things didn’t exactly happen the way you think they did.”

Esme snorts. “Spare me, Nik. Yaz told me all I needed to know. So don’t waste your breath lying to me. Dhaka was a total crap show and you just went ahead and made it even worse.”

“Alright, settle down,” Tyler implores, and then leans sideways to press a kiss to her temple, lips settling against her ear. “The kids do not need to hear this. Any of this. Okay? Can you stop? For me? Please?”

She reluctantly nods.

“It was Nik’s idea to come here,” Kyle says. “She wanted to patch things up. With both of you. So we could be part of the kids’ lives. They deserve to have family. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of what’s best for them?”

“Whoa...whoa...” Tyler comes to his wife’s defense. “...that’s way out of line, mate. Don't use her kids against her. Don’t ever accuse of not doing what’s for her kids. Our kids. Don’t stoop that low or you are I are going to have problems.”

“I’m just saying that...”

“I know what you’re saying. But find another way to say. Because I won’t let you disrespect the mother of my children like that.”

Nik gives a dramatic sigh. “Obviously the two of you are still holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger and this was a total waste of our time.”

“We’re holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger?” Esme retorts, then laughs. “Says the woman who couldn’t handle that her with friend with benefits met someone and decided to move on with his life. The same woman who was so mad about it that she spent six years trying to get my husband to cheat on me? Or are you going to pretend none of that ever happened?”

“And I’ve apologized for that, Esme. But you’re just so childish and petty that you can't let it go.”

‘Well I’m sorry, Nik. Maybe I’m not comfortable with my husband’s old side piece becoming my sister in law.”

“There’s kids here,” Tyler reminds them both. “They don’t need to hear this. Either settle down or just drop it.”

Esme glares at him. “And suddenly you’re on her side?”

“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. But I’m also on the side of my kids not having to hear this stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve heard a lot worse,” Nik snidely remarks. “With you as their father.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what he’s like. The mouth on him. I’m just saying that I’m sure the kids have heard a lot worse than what we’re talking about.”

“How about you just leave my kids out of this,” Esme suggests. “Or is that the real issue? That they’re my kids...with him...and not yours.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle moans. “Not this again.”

“That’s what really pissed off six and a half years ago, wasn’t it, Nik. The fact that you wanted more than just the dick and he wouldn’t give it to you. It just pissed you off when he met me and all of sudden he was getting married, having kids, enjoying a normal life. That’s what really bugged you. What still bugs you.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Tyler asks. “Do you really think the kids need to know this kind of shit?”

Esme ignores him. “Why don’t you tell Kyle the real reason you’re here, Nik. And don’t lie and say it was to repair things between us. Tell the truth for once. Tell him you’re here to screw things up all over again.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about this now,” Nik says. “This was supposed to be about coming together and sitting down and ironing things out. To patch things up and see the kids and...”

“I think we should call it a night,” Tyler suggests. “It’s getting late and the kids are tired and have school tomorrow.”

“No,” Esme responds. “We’re not leaving. She’s going to come clear to my brother about what she’s really here for. How she used our kids as an excuse to come here. Tell him, Nik. Tell him exactly what you came all this way for.”

“Esme,” Tyler warns. “...not here...please.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kyle. It isn’t for my husband’s dick. For once. It’s all business, isn’t it, Nik. It’s all about the job. And you trying to manipulate Tyler into helping you.”

“Would you stop,” Tyler tightly squeezes her shoulder. “Enough. Stop Not here. Not now. And not in front of the kids.”

“Nik wants to hire Ovi to be a mercenary,” Esme announces. “Ovi. Of all goddamn people.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tyler orders. “If you two wants to hash it out or kick the crap out of each other, go do it somewhere else. Just not in front of my kids.”

“You’d think she’d have more comment sense than that because of everything Ovi went through in Dhaka,” Esme continues. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering we wanted us to leave him in the street like a piece of trash. She probably wanted Tyler to leave me there too. Because I was the obstacle in the way or getting what she really wanted.”

“Is this true?”  Kyle address Nik. “That’s why you really wanted to come here? To hire Ovi?”

“Oh, not just that,” Esme informs him. “She wants Tyler’s help. She wants him to train Ovi before she sends him off to be killed. She probably wants more than that. She always has.”

“Okay, we’re going.” Tyler tightens his hold on Millie and stands up. “Enough. I’ve had enough. I said not to do this, and you did it anyway. Let’s go.”

“I want to know if any of this is true,” Kyle says. “If that’s the real reason we ended up here. Is it?” he looks back at Nik. “IT had nothing do with fixing things, did it. It was all bullshit. Just to get something you want.”

“That’s Nik’s M.O,” Esme smirks. “That’s all she ever cares about. Getting what she wants. And trying to destroy anyone that stands in her way.”

“Why would you do this?” Nik hisses. “Stoop this low?”

“Now you know how it feels,” Esme give a victorious smile as she stands up. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Having some bitch trying to fuck your life up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler snarls. “Let’s just go. Enough. You’ve said enough.”

“Oh, I have more tons more I could say.”

“Well another time, another place. We’re leaving. Now.”  His tone is demanding. Authoritative. But his face remains calm as he gathers up all the kids; Declan on one hip, Millie on the other. “Let’s go guys,” he says to the twins. “Home time.”

“Thank God,” Tanner huffs. “Adult stuff is so boring.”

Kyle hurries after them as they leave, catching Tyler by the arm before he can get out the side entrance of the patio. “I am so fucking sorry. I had no idea what she was up to,” he says, as Esme and the twins –with TJ pushing the baby stroller- continue the walk to the car.  “She told me that she wanted to come here and fix things. And so I could see the kids. I had no clue she had an ulterior motive.”

“That’s one thing about Nik. She always has an ulterior motive. I’m sorry, too. That you had to find out that way. Esme should have just kept her mouth shut. For tonight at least. I tried, but...” Tyler shrugs. “...she doesn’t always listen to me.”

“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Kyle gives a dry laugh. You guys going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine. She’ll get home and go off on me for a bit and then she’ll calm down. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m used to it after six and a half years. Good luck with Nik, though. You’re going to need it.”

Kyle frowns and runs a hand over the back of his head. “That bad, huh?”

“Mate, you have idea. If she boots you out and you need a place to crash, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah, don’t be surprised if you come out in the morning and find me drunk and passed out on the beach.”

Tyler smirks. “There’s been times I wished I was loaded and passed out on the beach, believe me. I am sorry. That your sister went off like that.  But you were going to find out sooner or later.”

“Better sooner if you ask me.” Kyle says. “Tell her I’m sorry. That you’re dragged back into this shit. Into that life. Esme deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “She does.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 25

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, anxiety, depression, panic attacks, alcoholism, drug addiction (pain medication)

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

Kyle arrives shortly before eleven; shirt untucked and wrinkled, carrying his shoes in his hands as he takes the beach back instead of the street.  

From where he stands at the kitchen table braiding Millie’s hair, Tyler can see him as he stands by the side of the pool; cheerfully greeting the twins and Ovi –with Declan in his arms- as they splash around. It’s trouble waiting to happen; whatever is going on between Kyle and the neighbor. As angry and annoyed as he is at Nik for years of drama and issues she’s tried to cause in his own relationship, she doesn't deserve to be treated like that. No woman does. Why cheat when you can just cut ties and do things the right way? There are no kids involved, no worrying about visitation schedules or child support or the long-lasting effects of a broken home. Whatever is going on, it won’t help well for anyone involved. Nik will be hurt and jilted, and she’ll end up on his doorstep. And that’s the last damn thing he wants OR needs.

“Where have you been?” Millie inquires, as Kyle wanders into the house. “And why do you look like shit?”

“Amelia...” Tyler frowns. “...what was the one rule for today?”

She sighs dramatically. “No bad words. But it’s true. He does look like shit.”

“Busy night?” Tyler asks his brother in law; hands working at twining and twisting his daughter’s thick hair together.

It’s a far cry from what his hands used to do, when they were primarily used for inflicting pain and punishment on others. When his knuckles would be torn apart; broken, bleeding, swollen. And as he gently drags the brush through Millie’s hair, he finds himself horrified that he’s even thinking about the job.  That his brain is playing the ‘then versus now’ game while his own flesh and blood sits in front of him; his ‘rainbow baby’ as Esme calls her. The very life that he’d help created while on the job. That had kept him going on the darkest and most trying of days.

He tries to fight it. That urge to get back into things. That powerful craving for something more. The intensity and the exhilaration.  Even the danger.

“Ow!” Millie cries, and tilts her head back to look up at him, fixing him with a furious glare. “That hurt! Why’d you pull my hair so hard?!

Fuck. He’s losing it. Or at least he feels like he is. First Ovi with his ‘wanting to try his hand at the job’ bullshit and then the reappearance of Nik in his life and the fucking nightmares and the incessant and desperate cravings for the Oxy and the booze. Now THIS. The reminiscing and the longing for his former life. This is not what he wanted. This is FAR from what he’d wanted. When he’d had his mental breakdown and walked away from New Zealand, he’d been determined to leave it all behind, the blood, the violence, the danger, the death. Content to be ‘normal’. More than happy to finally settle down and enjoy his role as a husband and a father. He wants to be the man they need. The man they want him to be. The man they deserve to have.

Now he’s slipping. All of his control, all of his willpower, all of his strength and his confidence. All abandoning him. Threatening to turn him back int the old Tyler; the one that couldn’t function without the booze and the pills. The one that willingly put his life on the line and took on whatever suicide mission he could; praying one day he’d catch a bullet and his miserable existence would be over.  

And he knows if he goes there...if he follows that path...this one will be lost to him forever.

“That hurt!” Millie pouts. “Why’d you do that?!”

“I didn’t mean to,” he attempts a lame apology. “I didn’t realize I was holding it that hard. I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head; right on the spot that she’s been gently rubbing.  He turns his attention back to the task at home, but finds his hands are now trembling; shaking with an intensity that both surprises and terrifies him, and he lets the brush fall to the table with a loud clatter. “Why don’t you go and get your mom to finish up,” he suggests, nervously wringing his hands together, tightly squeezing one, then the other; anxious for the tremors to stop. “She does a better job than I do.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Millie scoffs. “And she’s busy. With Addie.”

“I’m sure she’s got some time to finish your hair.”  Tyler sees the way Kyle is watching him; the way his head is cocked to the side and his are both curious and concerned. And he quickly shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Go ask.”

“I don’t want to,” his daughter argues. “I want you to do it. I want...”

“Amelia!” he snaps, harsher than he’d intended. “I said go and ask your mom!”

She blinks, then her mouth settles into a firm, grim line and tears glisten in her eyes. The guilt hits him immediately. She shouldn’t be the one paying the price for his issues; she doesn’t deserve to face the consequences of his burdens and his demons. She’s just a kid. A baby still. Innocent and pure. And none of this bullshit is her fault.

“Millie...I’m sorry...” he attempts to make amends as she shoves her chair backwards and springs to her feet.  “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I didn’t mean to...”

“Leave me alone!” she bellows, then stomps out of the room, both her angry, pounding footsteps and her sobs seeming to thunder through the house.

“Fuck me...” Tyler mutters, and rakes his hands through his hair and runs a palm down his face. The cravings are back; that crippling need for alcohol. Or the meds. Maybe even both.

“What the hell, man?” Kyle scowls. “That’s your fucking kid. Why talk to her like that?”

Tyler fixes him with a cold, harsh stare. “You need to mind your own fucking business.”

“That’s my niece. My sister is her mother. That makes Millie my business.”

“You don’t even have kids. Until you do, keep your mouth shut about mine. You don’t know what it’s like. This life. Being a dad.”

“I know that wasn’t you. That you’re not that kind of dad. The one that snaps on his kids. You’re usually the calm one. Patience of a saint. So what the fuck?”

Tyler sighs, hands on his hips as he briefly closes his eyes. There’s going to be hell to pay: a pissed off wife and a hurt, angry little girl. Kyle’s right. He IS usually the calm and patient one; he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s lost it on the kids. But his nerves are shot; the last remaining shred of sanity feeling as if it’s barely hanging on.

“You okay?” Kyle asks. “What was that with your hands? The shaking.”

“It’s the meds,” Tyler lies. “One of the side effects.”  

His hands used to twitch and move in his sleep; to the point it would wake Esme up.  She’d said it was like he was back on the battlefields in the Middle East or still on the job; hands and fingers going through the motions of handling a handgun or a rifle, loading magazines, pulling the trigger.  There are times it STILL happens. He can be completely relaxed while lying in bed or sitting on the couch or lounging on the beach and his right index finger moves on its own accord.  And he actually has to focus and concentrate on making it stop.  

“Haven’t you been on those for years?” his brother in law inquires. “If you’re still having side effects after this long, I’d get your ass to a doctor."

Tyler’s annoyed. On edge. And it causes him to immediately lash out. “Shouldn’t you still be out fucking the neighbor?”

Kyle smirks. “So now you’re going take your shit out on me? I may not be able to take you, but it won’t stop me from trying to kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Tyler retorts. “Why are you even here?”

“Esme called me. Asked if I’d help Ovi with the kids while you guys went out for a while.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean why are you HERE? In Australia.”

“I’m here to see my sister. And my nieces and nephews. I don’t get to do that very much since you decided to just pack them up and move them to the other side of the goddamn world.”

Tyler scoffs. “Don’t start that shit with me. I didn’t force your sister to come here. I didn’t put a gun to her head or give her some kind of ultimatum. We decided this together. She was the one who suggested it.”

“Same way she suggested it the first time?”

He frowns. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about when she decided to give up her entire life to stay here. For some guy she’d just met.”

“She gave up a life?” Tyler gives a dry laugh. “What life? A mother that’s treated her like shit for nearly her entire life? Who stayed friends with an ex-husband that that used to beat her and force himself on her? You mean THAT life? She had no fucking life.”

“And you gave her one?” Kyle challenges. “Some guy that saw her as nothing more than an easy fuck and spent five days taking advantage of that in some shit hole motel in Bangladesh. Who probably wasn’t even going to bother with her once he got out of there?”

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You have no idea what went down between me and Esme. Just what you want to believe. Or what mommy dearest put into your goddamn head.  I had every intention of continuing things with her. We had all kinds of plans; for what we were going to do after Dhaka. But we never got that chance, did we.”

“Yeah, how convenient,” Kyle snorts. “Things go completely to hell, she ends up staying here to play nursemaid to some guy she barely knew, finds out she’s knocked up...”

“Don’t talk about my wife or my kid like that,” Tyler interjects. “Don’t EVER talk about them like that.”

“And then you decide to do the right thing,” his brother in law continues. “The honorable thing. I’ll give you that much; you stepped up at least. You didn’t leave her alone and pregnant and make her a single mom.”

“Is that what you think I did? That I ‘stepped up’ and married her because of Millie? I married her because I loved her. And I stick around because I still love her. Because I’ll always love her.”

“Or because you’re too far in it now. Five kids make it pretty damn hard to walk away. Or is it your way of keeping HER from walking away? I mean, what better way to keep her around? Keep putting kids in her, keep her barefoot and pregnant...”

Tyler takes a step towards him; nostrils flaring, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re way out of fucking line, mate. Neither of us are stuck here. Either of us could walk away if we wanted to.”

“What mother is going to leave her kids? Tell me on mother who would do that. I’ll wait.”

“You think she sticks around because she feels like she has no other choice? Are you listening to yourself right now? You have no fucking clue what things are like between me and Esme. I stay because I love her. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I know...beyond the shadow of a fucking doubt...that she stays for the same reason. So fuck off with your bullshit. This is my house. You’re a guest here. So don’t walk in here like you own the place and start shit talking me. Or my wife. Or my kids. Because I will put you on your ass.”

“You threaten her like that, too? Is that how you keep her here? Scare her into being a perfect little submissive housewife? Does it make you feel like a big man picking on a little thing like her?”

Tyler’s nostrils flare once more; fists tightening so hard that the wounds on his knuckles -that he’s gained while working the heavy bag in the gym so hard- actually crack and begin to bleed. He feels how tense his shoulders are, how tight his jaw is clenched. And he knows Kyle is one more word...one more breath...away from getting himself into a situation he can’t possibly handle.

****

“That’s enough!”  Esme snaps from the doorway; holding a despondent Millie on her hip. The soon to be six-year-old is long and lanky; legs dangling well past her mother’s knees, toes almost touching her shins. “Kyle...what the hell...?”

“We were just having a discussion,” her brother says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Bullshit. I was in the hallway. I heard almost all of your little discussion. How fucking dare you.”

“Mommy...” Millie mutters into her neck.  “...bad language.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Esme lays a hand on her daughter’s head and presses a kiss to her brow. “Do you think you could go outside for a little bit? Just for a few minutes. Mommy has some things to say and she doesn’t think you should hear them. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Millie nods.  

“Just for a few minutes,” her mother assures her, as she places her on the ground and then holds her face in her hands, pecking her lips. “And say out of the sand. You don’t want mess your dress up before grandpa gets to see it, okay?”

“Okay,” Millie agrees, and then sidestep her father’s hand when he reaches out for her. “No daddy. I’m still mad. I love you, but I don’t like you very much right now.”

“Wow...” Kyle comments, as his niece stomps from the room and throws the patio door open –and slams it closed- with enough force to rattle the glass pane. “Six-ish going on sixteen-ish. Wonder where she gets THAT attitude from.”

“First off, fuck you Kyle,” Esme snaps. “Fuck you and your self-righteous, mom like bullshit. Coming here and thinking you can say the shit I heard come out of your mouth.”

“What I said? You know what he said?” he gestures towards Tyler. “To his own kid?! How he made her cry?”

“Oh, she told me all about that. And believe me, Tyler is going to catch shit for it, and he knows it. When we’re alone and we don’t have nosey, judgmental assholes all up in our shit. It’s none of your goddamn business what goes on around here.”

“You’re my sister,” Kyle argue. “That makes it my business.”

“Like hell it does! I’m a grown ass woman. With children. So treat me like one. And second of all, fuck you again. For talking about me like you were. Never mind that, for talking to my husband like you were. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Did you hear anything he said? Or just me?”

“He was defending me. Defending US. Don’t try throwing Tyler under the bus when I heard nearly every goddamn word.  An easy fuck? That's how you see your own sister?”

He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that...”

“Tyler didn’t take advantage of me. Not in the slightest. We were two consenting adult and we wanted to fuck each other so we did. What we did during those five days has no bearing on you. None whatsoever. You have no clue what went on. The things we talked about. The plans we made. And we had them. Plans. To get to know one another the right way. To travel and to spend time learning about one another. But we never got that chance.”

“Esme...I....”

“You weren’t in Dhaka,” she continues, and wanders over to the sink; dampening the dish cloth and offering it to Tyler; so he can clean the open wounds on his knuckles.  And he accepts it with a small, grateful smile and leans back against the island. “We were. You weren’t on that bridge You have no idea how bad things were and how bad things got and how worse they could have been. So keep your goddamn mouth shut about Dhaka.”

“All I was trying to say was...”

“I’m talking now, Kyle. It’s my turn. You’re in my house. And you will not disrespect me and you sure as hell will not disrespect the father of my kids. I stayed here after Dhaka because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with Tyler. Because he needed someone to be there for him. Because busted his ass to get me out that god awful shitty mess and the least I could do was stick around and make sure he didn’t die alone. Because he almost did. Not just on that bridge, either. I stayed because I wanted to. Simple as that.”

“Fine,” Kyle throws his hands up in exasperation, and moves towards the patio door. “You did what YOU wanted. You didn’t care about the people you left behind. You were immature and selfish and...”

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Esme steps in front of him. “You got yourself into this mess, you’re going stick with it until the bitter end. You come in here and talk shit? Well now you’re going to get it right back. I had a shitty ex-husband who liked to rape and beat on women and a narcissistic bitch of a mother and older brothers with their heads so far up her ass....”

“Baby...”  Tyler steps forward, using his shoulder to shove Kyle out of the way so he can stand in front of her; hand settling on her hip. “...settle down, okay? Just stay calm. I know you’re pissed...”

She ignores him. “I made a life for myself in Australia,” she informs her brother. “I became a wife and a mother and I’m sorry if you think that’s selfish of me for choosing that over my shitty existence in Colorado. And selfish? Because I did what I wanted for a change instead of what everyone else expected of me? That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re just upset I’m not under your thumb anymore. That’s all you’re pissed about. You and mom.”

“You’re going to resort to shit talking her? She’s practically on her death bed and you’re going to stoop that low?”

“I don’t give a shit about her. The second she wished death on my husband...the father of her grandchildren...it was over between us. She’s not my mother, Kyle. She hasn’t been my mother in years. Maybe she never was. And I don’t care that she’s dying. Maybe it’s karma. Maybe she finally is getting what she deserves.”

“Okay...that’s enough...” Tyler gently orders. “...let’s not say shit you know you’re going to regret.”

“It’s too late for that,” she says. “The second my brother opened his goddamn mouth when it comes to things he has no clue about. I’m not trapped here, Kyle. He's not some fucking predator like Mark was. What do you think Tyler’s doing? Hiding my birth control or poking holes in condoms just so he can get me pregnant? That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit in the past thirty-five years.”

“Baby....stop...this has gone too far...” Tyler’s hands are on the side of her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she hadn’t even realized she was shedding. “...stop, okay? You’ve said enough.”

“He has no clue! Absolutely no clue!”

“I know. And you getting this upset is not going to change that. Just let it go. It’s not worth it; getting this riled up.”

“He has no idea. What we’ve been through. What went down in Dhaka and on that bridge.”

“We don’t need to talk about that. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what happened. And he doesn’t need to know. It was almost seven years ago. Let’s not talk about Dhaka.”

“You almost died,” her words manage to come out through choked, angry sobs. “On a dirty fucking sidewalk with my fingers shoved in your neck trying to stop you from bleeding out. You almost died right in front of me.”  

“But I didn’t,” he firmly reminds her. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“And you almost died in the hospital. During surgery. Twice. And he has the goddamn nerve to act like it was no big deal? That is so fucking disrespectful to you and what you went through and what you still go through.”

“Esme....” Kyle attempts to step around his brother in law but meets resistance. “I’m sorry.  I....”

“Don’t touch her,” Tyler calmly orders. “Don’t even talk to her. You have no clue what’s going on right now.  Stay out of it. I’ve got it under control.”

“You do? Because it doesn’t fucking look like it.”

“Would you just shut the fuck up and go and do something else while I deal with this? You have no clue what she’s talking about or why she’s talking about it.  So back off.”

“She’s my sister! If there’s something I can do for her...”

“Leave her alone. That’s the best thing you can do for her. Leave her alone and let me deal with it. It’s PTSD, you fucking idiot. You can’t just jump in and fix shit. Fuck. Just let me deal with it.”

  This hasn’t happened in months; where the mere mention of Dhaka triggers such a powerful reaction. The last time had been at the therapist’s office, when Esme was asked about her most painful memory of the last ten years. That had led to a full out meltdown complete with hyperventilating and vomiting. After that the therapist had helped them come up with ‘plan of attack’; highlighting the warning signs and how he could either help talk her down before things escalated, or calm things once they got out of control.

“I just want him to leave,” she struggles to draw breath. “Make him leave. Please.”

“He’s just worried about you,” Tyler attempts to reason. “He’s your brother and he loves you and he’s worried about you. Don’t even pay attention to him. Pretend he’s not even here. Pretend it’s just us in the room and no one else.”

“I can see him though,” panic is starting to set in. “I know he’s here.”

“Close your eyes, then,” Tyler cradles her face in his hands and tilts her head up towards him. “Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay?”

She nods, her hands coming up to tightly grip his forearms as she allows her eyes to flutter closed. And he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose and rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s okay, baby...” his voice is quiet, keeping the volume low and the tone steady and soothing. “We’re not in Dhaka anymore. It’s over. It’s all behind us now. We don’t ever have to go back there. We made it out. Both of us. We’re both here. And that’s all that matters. We both made it.”

*****

Within minutes she’s settling; her body ceasing to tremble, her tears stopping, her breathing returning to normal.  And when the crisis has passed, sweat is glistening on her forehead and her skin is a pale, deathly gray.  

He kisses her forehead once more, followed by her lips.  “You okay now? You gonna be alright?”

Nodding, she manages a small smile.

“Go outside and get some air. You’ll feel better. I’ll get you some water and your meds, okay?”

“Okay,” she feebly agrees, and he places his lips against cheek and runs a hand over her hair.  

“Leave her,” he snarls at Kyle, when he attempts to step into her path. “For fuck sake, just leave her alone.”

Kyle backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. Then waits for his sister to step and is out of earshot before speaking again. “What the hell was that?” he asks, as he follows Tyler into further into the kitchen. “Like what the fuck?”

“It happens every so often when she’s stressed about something. Usually it has to do with Dhaka. When some fucking shit for brains brings it up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle mutters. “Was it really that bad?”

Tyler scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know, mate. She had to stick her fingers in my neck so she could pinch a vein off to stop me from bleeding out all over her. What do you think?”

“I guess I didn’t. Think.”

“Yeah no shit. You have no idea what went down over there. Everything she went through. Everything she saw. Especially on that bridge. So do me a favor and don’t bring it up. Ever.”

“I never realized it was THAT bad, I guess.”

“How could you not have realized it? You know I almost fucking died. That she was the one that saved me. She’s your sister. How could you not realize that would have fucked her right up?”  He yanks the fridge open, snagging a bottle of water before shutting the door with his hip, then grabs a prescription bottle from a cupboard near the stove.  “She was dealing with it just fine until all this shit with Ovi started. And let’s not even get into what happened when Nik decided to pop back up.”

“You know she says you guys were fucking, right? Within the last six and a half years. Since you and Esme got married. She told me. That you her and have been hooking up.  Least a dozen times. If not more.”

“She’s full of shit. I haven’t fucking touched her since I met your sister. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater.”

“I’m not saying I believe her. Not in the slightest. I don’t think you would. Fuck around on Esme. I mean you’ve done some shitty things, but I don’t think you’d do THAT.”

“I wouldn’t. Ever. Not even in the six months when we were separated did I even think about cheating on her, let alone actually do it. I’m not crazy. I know what I have. I’m not losing it.”

Kyle nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words. “I just thought you should know. In case she calls her or shows up trying to cause shit.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck have you done?”

“What I should have done that night after Esme called Nik out at dinner. I told her it was over That it just wasn’t going to work. That we’re just too different and her career doesn’t exactly leave room for a marriage, let alone a successful one.”

“So it’s done? Totally? You and her?”

“It never should have started in the first place. It was a bitch move. Getting mixed up with someone who tried to ruin my sister’s life.”

Tyler smirks. “You think?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad she didn’t. Screw things up with you and Esme. I mean, you can be a real dick, but I know you love her. And I know she’s happy here. That she’s happy with her life. As a wife and a mother.”

“I like to think she is. Happy. And she’s amazing at both. I’m lucky. Even if that’s something I don’t say often enough.”

“It’s all I want for her, you know. To be happy. Especially after all that shit with Mark.”

“We try not to talk about that around here either. And look, no offence, but when I tell you I’m dealing with something...when I say I’ve got things under control...fucking listen to me the next time. Because I live with her. I’ve been living with her for almost seven years now. I’ve been the one with her through all the bullshit and all the hard times. All the nightmares and the panic attacks and the freak outs. I’ve been the one dealing with all of that. You just made shit worse. I would have had her talked down a lot sooner but you just kept escalating shit. When I tell you to back off, just do it.”

“Fair enough,” Kyle agrees.

“You and the neighbor, huh? Is that the real reason you broke things off with Nik?”

Kyle follows him through the kitchen, out into the living room and towards the patio door. “There’s nothing between Salena and I. Nothing serious, anyway. We’re just having a good time.”

Tyler smirks. “You mean your dick’s having a good time.”

Kyle gives a sly grin.

“Mine had a good time last time last night too, so...”

“Jesus Christ,” his brother in law scowls. “That’s my sister.”

“I’ve made five kids with your sister. I think it’s obvious we have sex.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it. Or think about it.”

“Look...” Tyler pauses, fingers curling around the handle of patio door.  “I don’t know what’s going on with you and the neighbor and I honestly don’t give a shit, but I’m going to be pissed if Nik shows up to cause problems. I don’t need that crap. Esme especially doesn’t need it. We’ve got enough going on without having to put up with her.”

“I told her not to bother you guys. To leave you both out of it.”

“Yeah? And when does Nik ever do what she’s told? You trying to tell her what to do probably just pissed her off even more. I just don’t want that shit here. Around my wife and my kids.”

“Think she’ll call Esme? Tell her the same thing you told me? That you guys were hooking up.”

“She better hope she doesn’t. And you better not say anything to your sister, either. Because it’s not true. I’ve never cheated on her. I never will. So if you don’t keep your mouth shut....”

“Won’t say a word,” Kyle promises. “I don’t understand how it even got this far. Nik wanting on your dick for this long.”

“Well if you saw my dick, you’d understand. I mean, it’s kept your sister around, right?”

Kyle smirks. “So did she catch the feels or something? Nik?”

“Guess so.”

“But you never did.”

“I never saw her as anything more than a boss or a friend. We used to fuck. That’s it. Nothing serious. I never wanted it to be. She never got like this until after Esme and I got together. It pissed her off that we were fucking on the job. And then it pissed her off even more when things went further than that. Guess she thought I’d never settle down.”

“Or if you did, you’d settle down with her.”

“Who knows. Doesn’t matter anyway. I never saw her that way. I never saw anyone that way until your sister came along. I’d already done the marriage thing. Once was enough. I pretty much avoid forming any kind of connection with someone. No one needed to get mixed up in that kind of mess.  Never met a woman that could put with it; the job and everything that came with it. It needed to be someone pretty fucking strong. No one I ever met fit that bill.”

“Weak women need not apply, huh?”

“Pretty much. Then your sister came along and...”  he shrugs. “...I don’t know...here we are.”

“Almost seven years and five kids later,” Kyle concludes. “Think there might be a six?”

“Why are you so hung up on us having another kid? Addie's only three weeks. Still new.”

“Make it a nice even number,” Kyle reasons. “Half a dozen. You haven’t thought about it?”

“A couple times, maybe.”

That’s a lie; over the past three days he’s thought about it at least a few dozen times. But he’s not sure if he actually wants a sixth one, or that the idea of getting dragged back into the unpredictability and the danger of the job makes him feel as if he NEEDS to have another. A way of ‘cementing his legacy’.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to talk your sister into it,” Tyler says. “She already gave in the last two times I changed my mind.”

“This thing that happened...” Kyle gazes out the window, nodding towards where his sister sits at the top of the patio stairs, arms wrapped around her slender form. “...the PTSD or whatever. She’ll be okay, right?”

“She usually is. Takes about a half hour, hour, before she’s back to normal.”

“Will it ever go away? Or is just something she’ll have to learn to live with?”

“It’s pretty damn permanent,” Tyler reluctantly admits.

And he both blames and hates himself for it.