#ten was under some eye-twitching-but-were-fine strain by the end there

[whatsfourteenupto]

Man in the progression from nine to thirteen you really truly can see the Doctor stretching like a rubber band until they snap and 14/15 happens

[jelzorz]

128.

They don't talk anymore. It's a lot harder to these days. There are too many things they haven't said and it's hard to tell where to start. Rayla keeps trying and then stalling and then chickening out because there's so much hurt in Callum's eyes that she knows she put there that any words just taste dry and cotton-like in her mouth.

Then Ez proposes a dinner.

Nothing too big or fancy, even by royalty's standards. It's just supposed to be a litte thing to make nice with some visiting Neolandian dignitaries who are still a bit apprehensive about all the things that happened at the border. They bear Ez no ill-will, of course—it was Kasef's poor decision making that got them here—but their standing armies aren't what they used to be and they're... reliant on Katolis and Duren for protection.

"It's really important that you go," Ez tells Rayla. "They're kind of scared of Xadia right now. Something something retribution for invading or whatever. And Xadia won't, obviously, but I think they need to see proof of the friendship we're fostering."

And, of course, Rayla agrees, because any favour for Ez is a good favour, and she's never been able to say no to him anyway. But then he adds—

"Oh, I should mention—I know I said it was little but these things are still formal and there's a little dancing and stuff. It's generally expected that you'd—uh—bring a date but..." He shifts awkwardly, knowing who she would have gone with if things were different, but the circumstances are certainly not like that, and now there's an expectation, even with all the things between them and—

"Oh," is all Rayla says. Lead settles in the pit of her stomach, because there's only one person she wants to ask, but whether or not she can is a different question.

"Sorry," Ez mumbles. "I know you guys aren't really..."

"It's fine," promises Rayla. She throws in a smile for good measure, even as her gut writhes in her belly. "I'll... We'll figure it out one way or another. Don't worry about it."

Anyway, that's how she ends up here, tugging against her own fingers ang readjusting her bun and pacing up and down the hall outside Callum's study. The dinner's still a week away so it's fine and presumably there's no one in attendance that would ask him (that he would say yes to) but still. Rayla paces. Rayla tugs. Rayla re-does her bun once more.

Then the door opens and Callum almost crashes into her on his way out. "Rayla!"

Rayla tries not to grimace. "Callum. "Hey, erm."

He blinks at her. She blinks back.

She looks away first.

She coughs, daring herself to meet his eye again but too afraid to actually go through with it. "S-sorry. I—er..."

Callum frowns at her, his mouth tugging downwards in what she thinks (hopes) is concern. "Is everything okay?"

Rayla nods. "Yeah. Everything's... Everything's good. I just—um—I wanted to ask." Gods. How had things deteriorated to this? It's like she's fifteen and stupid all over again. "Are you going to that dinner with the guys from Neolandia?"

Callum presses his lips together. "Um," he says. "Yeah. I mean, I kind of have to be there, being the prince and high mage and all."

"Oh," says Rayla. "Obviously. I knew that. I—um."

There's a pause. A long pause. Rayla will swear later that it went on for, like, ten minutes even if she knows it was barely one. The words catch on her throat, like a chunk of venison too big to swallow, and all the while, Callum waits, and waits, and waits, until—

"Do you need a date?" he asks her at last.

Rayla's heart deflates. The way he asks makes it sound like he's already got one and it's notably not her. Her lungs struggle for breath. Her hands twitch at her sides. "Yeah," she manages at last, hoping she sounds normal at the very least, even under the strain of wondering who he might have asked in her stead.

But Callum's lips twitch as he looks away. "I—um—need one too, actually," he admits.

Rayla dares to look up. "You don't have one already?"

He shakes his head. "I—uh. I dunno. Things aren't... the same as they were. I didn't think..." He coughs. "I know a couple of people who might be interested in being yours—"

"I'm asking you," blurts Rayla, before he can go any further, before she can make it worse in any way.

His shoulders sag. Hers do too. The air is a lot less stuffy all of a sudden. Rayla even manages a smile. "Would—would you be interested—?"

"Yeah," says Callum quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Quick enough for Rayla to know he'd been hoping for this all along. "And, y'know, it doesn't have to be anything until... yeah. I'll go with you."

"Sounds good!" says Rayla.

He nods, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "Sounds good."

The talking thing is... Yeah. They're still not there yet. But it's a work in progress, and it's coming along fine.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 7

Summary: In order to win, she might have to lose.

Warnings: angst, swearing, bit of fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six  

=================================

Waking up to skies lit by the wintry sun is what Y/N expected. In the back of her mind, she remembers opening her eyes. Perhaps it’s her mind playing tricks on her, but she could swear she heard Aleksander’s voice softly speaking to her. 

Telling dreams from reality felt like an impossible task, but if it were a dream, would she really dream of him?

Death never crossed her mind. She was a soldier in an expendable army for most of her life, yet she never feared death. There was never a lingering sense of what if when they asked her if she believed in life after death, but she wondered now. Looking death in the eye had forced a realization upon her – she would die and achieve nothing. She married arguably the most powerful man in all of Ravka and she failed to utilize it. In the end, her name would be forgotten in history for her plans would all die with her.

Inhaling sharply, she wanted to open her eyes. A heaviness settles on her eyelids, making her groan. Her entire body felt dismantled, every nerve bare, inflicting pain.

“It’s alright”, a hand pressed to her forehead and Y/N frowns. Breathing heavily, she felt vulnerable, exposed.

Swallowing thickly, her eyes flutter open. With blurry vision, she looked up at the dark presence looming above her. Blinking fast, her lips part and before she can ask, cool liquid runs down her parched throat.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes closed again. She needed a moment to collect herself, to stop the world from spinning.

“It hurts”, she mumbles meekly.

“Shhh”, his voice reaches her. “I’m here”, she feels a gentle squeeze of his hand, “You’re safe.”

Resisting sleep, she opened her eyes once more. The sight of his tormented gaze leaves her nearly breathless. He’s still handsome, but it looks as if he’s aged ten years in just a few days.

“What happened?” Her voice is hoarse, still raspy from thirst and sleep.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a week”, his forehead wrinkles, “We’ve just made it back.”

Despite the little voice in his head, the Darkling held onto his wife throughout the night. He kept her close to his chest, running his fingers through her hair. She was exhausted, injured so badly he could hear the strain her body was under with every breath she took.

Her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted and his pressed in a thin line. Absurd. It was absurd to think that someone like that – so delicate, so fragile, could have any power over him. It baffles him just how quickly he found himself attached to this woman who was unremarkable in every possible way – or so he told himself.

Truth be told, he couldn’t take his eyes off her since he first saw her. She radiates genuine beauty few possess, a confidence he’s never found in anyone in hundreds of years, and an air of mystery he couldn’t quite understand.

By the time morning light reached their tent, the Darkling just stared at her with care, studying every inch of her face as if it could be the last time he’ll ever be given a chance. He memorized the way she fit in his embrace, the rhythm of her beating heart in the dead of night and every labored breath as it threatened his sanity.

Anger was his best friend for so long, his shield against humanity, but his anger wasn’t all-consuming as it once was – it was directed to those who caused the swelling around her eyes and cuts across her cheekbones.

“General”, Ivan’s head peaked inside the tent only to swiftly disappear once he caught sight of a moment he was sure wasn’t meant for his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling gently laid her head down. Caressing her cheek, he let a heavy sigh pass his lips. It’s been too long since he last felt so defenseless and helpless as he did now. He promised himself he’d never feel that way again and yet he found himself in the same cursed whirlwind of emotions as he was in when the fold came to be.

Biting his lower lip, he pushed it all down. If he’s distraught, his people would know. He cannot be emotional and still lead an army. He has to be strong – for Grisha and for Y/N.

“Ivan, we’ll have to find a healer soon”, Kirigan spoke in a hushed tone. Glancing at the tent, he felt a lump growing at the back of his throat. “I believe she’s developed a fever too.”

“Fedyor can try to cool her temperature”, Ivan offers, “He’ll slow her heart and keep her breathing. I’ll trade with him if necessary.”

Nodding, the general was satisfied with Ivan’s solution. For once, Ivan didn’t question why he wanted to protect her. This time, he was offered aid rather than words of discouragement.

“I’ll have to leave some of our own here”, Kirigan looks at the direction they came from. “The Fjerdans came too close and I need to know why. Why would they take my wife?”

Ivan lowers his voice, making sure he doesn’t wake up Y/N, “Perhaps it was a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. Not when her safety is at stake.”

Nodding, Ivan glances at Fedyor. He’d be the same if anyone touched his beloved. Suppressing a smile, Ivan finally realized it – no matter how vehemently the general denies it, his heart is no longer his.

“What are the orders? I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“Take back what they took, place their heads on a stake and wait. More should come soon and when they do, I want to know why they came so close to Little Palace and who ordered them to take my wife.”

Squinting, not in anger but to see him better, Y/N frowns, “A week?”

“Winter made it hard for us to move faster and you were in no shape to ride back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of air, she raised an eyebrow, “So you carried me?”

“Ivan and Fedyor kept you alive too.”

Wetting her chapped lips, she hesitated. Her fingers burned, itching to touch him, to intertwine with his.

“A healer should be here any minute now”, Aleksander informed, pulling his hand out of hers as if he could sense her inner battles and decided to help her by removing himself from it entirely.

“No”, she decided.

Standing abruptly, his jaw clenched. Despite his stern expression, his eyes hold all the sadness in the world, pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.

“No?” He repeats with disdain, “What do you mean by no?”

Holding her breath, she endures a sharp pain in her ribcage as she propped herself up on her elbows. Breathing heavily, she directed her determined gaze on him. “I’m human, am I not?”

Squinting at her, his lips part, “And?”

Struggling to prevent herself from laughing at the way he looked at her now, Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Humans aren’t allowed aid of a healer. We go to the medics.”

“You’re my wife”, he remarks almost instantaneously, slightly wishing she remained unconscious for a while longer. If she slept, the healer would have done their job and there would be no argument. There was no doubt about it, their truce was over.

“But I’m still a human. The rest of my kind don’t have the privilege of being married to you.” Her voice is stern, low and frustratingly righteous.

“You need a healer or you might not survive”, Aleksander insisted.

“Then let me die.” She stared at him, no signs of crumbling and it made him feel like he’s drowning.

Rubbing his forehead, the Darkling shut his eyes in frustration. After all the sleepless nights, his head felt like it would implode. All he had on his mind was her safety and now when he brought her home, she refused help.

“What do you want?”

Knitting her eyebrows, she glanced at his jaw as it clenched. “What?”

Her voice is higher, almost confused but he knew better than that. “I’ve known you for almost two months.” Two months too long, he thought. “I know when you’re trying to extort me.”

Covering her mouth, Y/N suppressed a laugh. Truth be told, it’s exactly what she’s doing, she just didn’t expect him to cave so quickly.

“Healers for the First army”, her lips twitch. Pursing her lips, she bites the soft flesh on the inside of her mouth to stop herself from smiling at all costs.

“No”, he spoke through gritted teeth.

Shrugging, she laid back down. “Alright then. I only regret I won’t be here to hear you explain my death to the Tsar and my father.”

Growling under his breath, he swipes his hand down his face. “One healer.”

“Two”, she argued, sitting up with a pained expression on her face.

“We can’t spare two”, the Darkling crosses his arms, his eyes darker than ever before.

Lifting her chin in defiance, she narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Two healers or no deal.”

Releasing a long, heavy breath in frustration, the Darkling felt his insides turn. “Two healers but only for those who can’t get better with a week long rest on their own.”

“Two healers for those who can’t get better in a few days of rest AND the same amount of food and water for the First army.”

Running a hand through his hair, the general’s nostrils flare. Cracking his neck to the left, to the right, he turned his death glare back on his wife. “Food and water are limited for Grisha as well.”

“I saw them eat grapes”, Y/N deadpans. “You have enough, so share. If the First army dies out, who will protect your precious Grisha?”

Folding her hands in her lap, she maintained eye contact with the general who refused to blink. He stared back at her, aghast. The woman was impossible! She made every word that passed her lips a contest of wills.

His jaw set, he moved closer to stand before her. He looked formidable with the relentless, firm pools of black ink for eyes devouring her with intensity, too hard in comparison to what she had seen in the tent. He looked like he could kill her without even putting a hand on her…something she still expected him to do.

What was stopping him? She was far behind enemy lines, no reinforcements and she saw what he can do – he could kill everyone who stood in his way.

“Fine”, he huffs. “Under one condition.”

Rolling her eyes, she nods, “What is it?”

“I want a kiss.”

Her eyes flashed to his. Ringed with golden bruises, she was still alluring – like a wildfire or a storm. No…she is wildfire, a storm. She is deadly and uncontrollable and slightly out of her wits and he’s asking her to be his ruination. It isn’t love, he tells himself, it’s obsession.

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N didn’t bother hiding her surprise. A kiss? Of all the things he could have asked, the big bad general who can summon shadows is asking for a kiss?

A part of her trusted Aleksander and that trust demanded intimacy. She wanted his hands on her – in her hair, his lips on her neck. She longed to be vulnerable and that’s what worried her. Trusting him, needing him, it’s bound to breed love and self-inflicted madness. If it were anything else, she would outright refuse him, but she has so many lives dependent on her answer.

“Tonight”, she decided. If her own sanity is the price to pay, she will do what she has to do.

Nodding, the Darkling retreated. Leaving the room, he opened the door for the healer to enter. Sparing her a quick look, he swallowed thickly as the thought of her willingly kissing him made his heart slam into the rib cage. Even his heart wanted to escape him as it too longed for her hands’ touch.

He didn’t make more than two steps outside the room when a Grisha joined him - one of his many spies.

“What do you have for me?”

The spy beckons him to the side, looking around wildly. “This could change everything.”

“What is it?” The Darkling speaks through gritted teeth, demanding an answer.

“There is talk”, the spy pauses, “Of a Sun Summoner.”

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

Healed, bathed and properly fed, Y/N had paced their room in anticipation of his arrival. She had seen the look in his eyes earlier that day – something between them has changed.

As the door opens, her breath halts inside her throat.

“I thought you were lost”, Genya admitted. “When they found your mare, I lost hope.”

Smiling, Y/N cupped her cheek. “I did too”, she sniffled.

The Darkling felt, more than saw, her presence as he entered the room. He turned slowly, his breath held. Her hair looked darker in the candlelight, its rich color gleaming against the green velvet of fresh sheets on the bed she leaned against. He could hardly speak. The nearness of her, the quiet room, the candlelight made him question the reality of what he was looking at.

“You look better”, Aleksander managed a curt smile, looking at Y/N and her attire. The sheer nightdress she wore was back, perfectly outlining her figure.

“Why did they take you?” Genya asked, unshead tears weighing heavily on her eyes. “Did they know?”

“No”, Y/N shakes her head, “But they found out.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. Kirigan killed them all.” Y/N glanced at the door where she expected her husband to appear later on.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Y/N felt her heart flip. “It helped me realize something.”

Frowning, Genya waited for Y/N to explain.

“Your General does have a heart”, she states. His request for a kiss lingered in every thought her mind could concoct.

She stared at him then slowly untied the belt of her robe and it glided languidly over her smooth skin, falling to her feet.

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. 

“Of course he does”, Genya chuckles, “He was most worried when you were taken. He promised he’d kill them all and bathe in their blood.”

“I think I can use that.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya’s frown deepened. “How?”

Pressing her lips, Y/N sighed. “In order for me to win”, she paused, “He needs to believe he did.”

“Husband”, she spoke clearly. She feigned confidence, but inside she quivered.

She had barely finished the syllable when she was in his arms, being carried to their bed, his lips already fastened to hers. She felt his lips hit hers like a tornado, his admission of burning the world in her name spinning in her head. It could have been a fever dream, but she would bet her life it wasn’t.

Holding her chin in place, he rested his forehead on hers, heaving from the kiss. She couldn’t open her eyes, clinging to him for dear life, but even with eyes closed, Y/N could hear the emotions thick in his voice.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not willing.” He whispered against his lips, all too prepared for his hands to roam her body now.

Y/N was afraid of herself as well as of him. He could sense it as he kissed her. He’d waited a long time for her to come to him and now it seems she was more than ready to give herself to him without his talk of her marital duty.

He expected anything but to find her with her arms wide open.  But even now, as he held her, he felt no great sense of triumph.

Pulling the sheet over her, he stood. “I can wait.”

The sheet accented her shoulders and the full swelling of her breasts. The candlelight deepened the shadow above the sheet. Her bare throat pulsed with life. Her face was set in a firm, serious expression that caused her eyes to darken. Her lips were hard, as if carved of marble and he ached to part them into a smile.

Turning away, he began undressing himself for bed, wondering how he could survive a night beside her if she remains as she is now.

She averts her gaze, whispering under her breath in confusion, “Wait?”

He laid beside her, barely dressed at all. She found herself achingly aware of his presence. The only light in the room was from the flames of candles she placed across the room. The light danced on her hair, played with the shadows of her delicate collarbones. At this moment, he remembered nothing of the arrangement their marriage was meant to be. He knew only that he was in bed with a desirable woman, one he never expected to claim. She seemed too headstrong to ever give into his charm, yet she bared herself before him and he couldn’t take advantage of her.

“Why don’t you want me?” She sat up, glaring at him. She let the sheet fall as his eyes met hers, bravely fixing him with her fiery gaze.

Rolling his eyes, he looks away. How can she torment him like this with no shame?

If anything, he felt like she’s attacking him. “I don’t want to hear about how a demon took you by force for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not force if I’m giving myself willingly, is it?” She raised an eyebrow, deciding on a tactic finally. Aleksander is a general, a conqueror at heart and she saw the desire in his eyes. If there was any hope of her plan to work, she had to harness his desire to convince him he won.

Licking his lips as he cracked a smile, Aleksander nodded in surprise, unable to keep his eyes from wandering lower to her breasts. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He wanted to possess her, to claim this difficult, headstrong woman for himself. His mouth came down brutally hard on hers, claiming them, nearly bruising them.

Y/N fumbled with the sheet that wrapped around her, making Aleksander chuckle into the kiss.

“Let me help you,” Aleksander purred and tore the sheet away, pulling it from under the mattress.

Wrapping his hand around Y/N’s neck, his grip was oddly weak, gentle even. She laid nude before him, his gaze fixed on her. He stared at her in wonder; her full breasts, curvy waist, round hips. Then he looked back at her face, her eyes blazing. Her lips were reddened from his kiss, and suddenly there was no power on earth that could stop him from taking her.

“You make me feel”, he pauses in anguish, “You make me feel”, he said quietly, fiercely, “And I don’t like it. I want it to stop. Now.”

He pushed her into the mattress and Y/N saw the ruthless general in his eyes and for a moment she feared it. A general isn’t gentle at all, not like Aleksander could be. She feared the pain he’d cause and the tears that would follow. She feared what he’d do to her, but then the fear she felt dissipated as he spoke against her lips.

“I’ll go slowly.” Aleksander stopped himself, remembering she’s never had a man in her bed before and once he saw the fear in her eyes extinguish the flame he already adored, he reeled himself in.

“Your hands are bloody from murder”, she paused, “But I trust them completely.” Her voice had never been smaller, her hands never as desperate as she clung to him. She wanted to trust the sudden, overwhelming warmth in his unrelentingly tender gaze, but she still awaited the pain that was yet to come. He moved on top of her, his lips attaching to her neck gently as he pressed a kiss above her pulsating carotid, knowing she’s nervous as he felt the pace of her pulse.

With one thigh, Aleksander parted hers. He kissed her again, passionate and slow, distracting her as his hand moves lower, down to the intimate parts she never allowed another only man to see, to feel. Slipping his finger between her folds, he found if applied enough pressure a desperate moan escapes her without a fail. He feels her breathing change as he begins to rub circles, her thighs trying to push against his in a need of more friction. And that’s when control escapes her and she closes her eyes completely, letting the pleasure take over.

Unable to wait any longer, Aleksander pushed the head of his hardened length between the folds, feeling her wetness pooling over as nature’s lubricant. Feeling the membrane, he stops for a moment. Looking at her carefully for any signs of distress, he wonders if she even realizes what is about to happen.

“Do you want this?” He asks again, fearing she may change her mind.

Gripping his arm, she nods. “Yes”, she replies, breathless.

Pressing himself inside, he bows his head in the crook of her neck, growling lowly in pleasure. It’s not the first virgin he had, but it’s the first one that made him want to come on the first thrust.

“Go on.” She encourages him, surprising them both. Swallowing thickly, she sinks her nails into his back, anticipating the next thrust. It would be a lie if she said she wasn’t in pain, but she knew it would get easier as he moves again and she would feel the pleasure again – and she wanted the pleasure more than the pain.

Nodding, Aleksander starts moving in and out slowly, refusing to risk her pain for a little more pleasure he’d find in speed and his untimely release. Instead, he’s using deep, slow strokes with a relentless care for the nerve bundle between her folds. Every passing second draws louder moans from her until he feels her clench around him, his own mind blackening as he feels himself nearing the edge. She’s holding him so tightly to her body, so desperately as she unravels beneath him. Picking up pace, he finally loses control, jerking his hips to meet hers in a deep thrust only to finish deep inside her, allowing them both to breathe.

Rolling off her, Aleksander decided to stay quiet, allowing her to have control of the moment. If she wants his embrace, he’d do it for her and if she wants to talk, he’d talk to her, otherwise, he’d just sleep. It’s been so long since he truly slept – since the day they went for that ride.

He placed an arm around her for comfort alone, not pressing himself closer than necessary, closing his eyes once he realizes she’s not interested in him at all after she came down from her high.

Waiting for a few minutes, Y/N pretended to sleep. After the hurricane of emotions he’d given her, Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She wanted to relax, to sleep in bliss, but a part of her ached. She ached for who she used to be. Would her father hate her for what she just did? Would her people denounce her for sleeping with the enemy?

Her eyes opened wide, finding his are still closed. Lips quivering, she felt herself crumble as tears fled her eyes. She watched his sleeping figure and sighed deeply, telling herself to stop crying. She was supposed to be in control of him, to make him want her and crave her, yet she found it was the opposite. She didn’t love him, but she did feel a connection…perhaps it’s the kindness he showed her when he rescued her or the pleasure he had given her, but something inside her changed and the heart she hardened on purpose found a soft spot for the general.

=============================

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Part 8

[ethanharli]

Resentment: Jujutsu Kaisen x Male Reader

[Ch.1|Episode One]

___________

“Ngh” A small groan slipped past my parted lips as I rubbed the scar on my neck, feeling it itch and burn as I tried not to scratch at it. “Does it still hurt?” My gaze flicked down towards Itadori, his sudden presence not much of a shock to me since him popping up out of no where is a regular occurrence to me. Yet the slight worry in his eyes caused a small smirk to tug at my lips as he rested his hand on my shoulder, “Jus’ itches, nothin’ more than that.” My voice came out low and gruff, with a bit of strain, something I still haven't gotten used to after I had damaged my vocal cords years ago. However Itadori just smiled and patted my shoulder, “Don’t forget to take care of it okay? I don’t wanna keep slapping your hands if you try to scratch at it” I couldn’t help but laugh along with him at the memories.

“Ah- Yuji I forgot to mention that I wont be able to come with you to visit your grandpa, I promised I’d stay with Sasaki and Iguchi after school today” I couldn’t help but frown at the slight waver in his smile, and the hint of disappointment in his eyes. I’d always go with him to see his grandpa, as emotional support and for the fact that his grandpa and I always had a father-son like relationship, but I couldn’t tell my classmates no when they looked at me with such excitement about the surprise they had for me. “It’s alright, I’ll tell him you said Hi!” His smile seemed a bit fake at this point, and in hopes to make him feel a bit better I rested my hand on his head, ruffling up his hair like I used to do when we were younger. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, but you really should go, it looks like coach is waiting for you?” I spoke awkwardly, finally noticing the coaches piercing gaze behind us.

“Oh yeah! I’ll see you later then!” Itadori turned to leave, but before he could I gently took ahold of his wrist, catching his attention with slightly widened eyes. “Remember, I’m always a call away if you need me” I smiled softly, finally letting go of his wrist as he stared at me for a moment, before breaking into a wide grin with a happier aura now surrounding him. “I know, but be careful okay? I’ll see you tomorrow!” I merely nodded and waved as he ran off alongside the coach, knowing exactly how that was going to end. Yet, before I could take another step a familiar disgusting stench made its way to my nose, along with some unsettling memories that I quickly pushed back down.

“What the hell was that..?” I couldn’t help but mumble it out, my hand instinctively moving toward the scar on my neck, the raised flesh once again started to itch and burn, irritating me to no end. Taking a deep breath I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed towards the occult clubroom, deciding I’ll just wait out in there until Sasaki and Iguchi got back.

--------

An hour or two passed since I got to the clubroom, and since I already cleaned the room when I first arrived I decided to lean back in one of the chairs and read the books we have in here, actually finding most of them quiet interesting. However I nearly doubled over at the familiar scent that I had smelled earlier as a prickly feeling danced over my skin, sending an unpleasant shiver up my spine. My ears immediately perking up at the sound of footsteps approaching the clubroom. Something felt off, and as it got closer I couldn’t help the small growl that reverberated throughout my chest, the sudden alarm of my flight or fight responses kicking in as the door slid open, revealing Sasaki and Iguchi. The familiar faces not doing anything to help calm my nerves as I glared at the object in Sasaki’s hand.

“What’s that?” I didn’t hesitate to voice my thoughts, my tone now surprisingly harsh as I continued to glare at the medium sized object. My fellow second years looked at me in shock before a wide grin spread across Sasaki’s face, “Itadori grabbed it for us! it’s supposed to contain an evil spirit” Even though she spoke with a carefree tone I couldn’t help but tense up when she held it up to me, the alarms in my head continuing to rattle my core as I got a better view of it.

That’s.. a special grade object.

“I don’t think that's a good idea, what if something goes wrong and someone gets hurt?” I tried to be a voice of reason, hopping she’d put the damn thing away, or at least hand it over so I can get rid of it. It didn’t help that my hands were practically trembling under the desk as I glared at the object with unease as she pulled up a chair and sat in front of me. “Simple! Nothing will happen, and if something does happen then we got you here Mr. Underground boxer” Her teasing smirk caused my unease to settle for a moment, and the mention of my old hobby causing a blush to spread across my cheeks. However she’s as stubborn as a mule, so if I can’t convince her not to open it then I’ll at least be here when it happens, “Fine, lets get to it before I change my mind.”

So for the next ten minutes we moved the desks around and turned off the lights as I took a seat besides Sasaki, watching carefully as she slowly unwrapped the talisman, keeping my guard up until finally the talisman came off, “A finger?” I mumbled softly, looking closely at the decayed limb. Until finally it clicked, “Move!” My nose twitched at the new scent approaching and reaching behind me I grabbed my chair and threw it up at the curse above us, grabbing both Sasaki’s and Iguchi’s wrists to force them out the room. ”Run!” I growled out, a small hiss slipping past my lips as I slammed the sliding door shut, feeling the hands of the curse crash into it behind me. ”And I thought I was finally done with this shit-” Taking a deep breath I pushed against the door and sprinted down the hallway, searching for my classmates.

I have to find Sasaki and get that finger from her, at least that way I know she won’t be the main target. With that in mind I tried tapping back into my own curse as I ran down the halls, but every time was a failed attempt. I stopped when I heard a high-pitched scream, I wasted no time bolting towards the sound, Sasaki and Iguchi both coming into view, however my blood nearly ran cold at the sight of the curse on their trail, it’s hands reaching out towards them, successfully grabbing Iguchi, “Fuck!” In an desperate act I ran towards Sasaki, a light green glow surrounding my body as I managed to make it to her in time, pushing her out the way as the hand that tried to grab her got to me instead, slamming my body into the wall besides me. The air got knocked out of my lungs from the impact, black spots slowly clouding my vision as my teeth gritted in pain.

“Run..” I managed to mumble out, the curse dragging me back into its body as fatigue slowly weighed me down. In the blur of my vision I caught a glimpse of someone new standing before the curse, a sigh slipped past my lips as I used the last bit of my energy to reach for Iguchi, the faint green glow returning to my body as I grabbed Iguchi’s arm, the flow of my cursed energy managed to make the curse shy away from my body a bit as I yanked Iguchi out of its body and threw him onto the titled floor. The shattering of glass and a familiar blur of pink hair being the last thing I saw before it all went black.

--------

The cool air nipped at my skin as I shifted a bit, a groggy groan slipping past my lips as my eyes fluttered open, being met with a familiar plain, cream colored ceiling. “Y’know it was a surprise to see you there,” Almost instantly I bolted up, the familiar voice causing my eyes to narrow as I glared at the masked male, a smirk playing at his lips as he leaned back in the hospital hair. “It’s good to see you again, wild child” The old name caused my nose to twitch in irritation, a few strands of my [H/c] hair falling in front of my eyes, as a dull ache started to appear in my lower back, “Wish I could say the same.. Satoru.” His presence unsettled me for the simple fact that I knew my finally normal life would go back downhill once again, yet I can’t deny that seeing him again made me a little bit happy.

Like hell I’d tell him that though, his ego’s already to big.

“Wait, what happened after I passed out?” I asked, remembering all the events until after that moment, however I didn’t like the amusement in his smile as he leaned forward, slowly beginning to explain the situation to me. The image of Itadori eating Sukuna’s finger made me wince in disgust, but it felt like my whole world came to a stop at the mention of his future execution. Anger slowly bubbled up within my chest but I made sure to bite it back down as I glared at my fists, “The higher ups are nothing more than pathetic little insects.. I hate them, all of them.” I couldn’t help but grit my teeth, my fists slowly beginning to tremble as a low growl slipped past my lips. “Then come back to Jujutsu tech, you’ve been gone for about six years now, if they hear about your return it’ll cause an uproar.”

Before I could answer him the door opened, revealing Itadori, and I couldn’t help but jump out of the bed and make my way towards him, startling him slightly, “[Y/n]! You’re Okay-!” He tensed in my arms as I engulfed him in a hug, my fingers desperately gripping onto the back of his shirt as I hid my face in the crook of his neck. Not caring that Gojo was watching in amusement behind me, or the fact my body still felt so heavy after what happened. The felling of his arms finally wrapping around my waist catching me off guard, but I didn’t make any act to move as everything I learned slowly came to mind. A small sigh slipped past my lips as I pulled away, looking at Itadori’s face for a moment, noticing the new marking under his eyes, that must��ve appeared after eating Sukuna’s finger.

“I’m glad you’re okay” It was all I could mumble out in the moment, the pit in my stomach growing at the thought of the higher ups executing him someday. “I should be the one saying that, you’re the one in the hospital” He laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him, “Touché.”

Taking a step back I turned towards Gojo, my eyes narrowing in determination, “I’ll go back.”

And I’ll protect him too.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 7

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; fingering.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Will King Steve ever show up?! Haha, we’re getting there, I promise.

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

After your midnight run-in with Barnes, you hid under your covers but didn’t sleep much. The morning rose behind the curtains as you groaned and mulled over another day of royal hell. You dragged yourself out of bed on your own that day. You dressed after grumbling over the selection of pastels and print then waited for your keeper.

You could probably march right out of the palace and not be noticed, you thought. Last night, he hadn’t even heard you enter the pool room. You cringed at the recollection and pushed your legs together as you felt a tickle between them. You stood sharply and teetered on your feet. 

You marched to the door and pulled it open, intent on sneaking out in your bare feet without the annoying and unsteady click of heels. If your mother could outrun Astrania for two decades, you could probably put up a good chase.

You were stopped by the figure awaiting you on the other side. Barnes was just as surprised as you as his hand was still outstretched as if to turn the handle. He blinked and his lips curved in amusement as he looked you over. You scowled, caught before you could run, and crossed your arms.

“You’ve forgotten your shoes,” he looked down.

You huffed and turned back. You stomped to the closet and wrenched it open. You blindly pulled out a pair of white heels. He followed you and kept you from closing the closet. He bent and reached past you to reveal a pair of nude pumps.

“The white… doesn’t go,” he switched the ivory for the beige. “Are you so impatient to start the day?”

You were silent as you sat on the edge of the bed and held back a whine as you shoved your already tortured feet into the shoes. You stood and flitted past him for the door.

“Eager for it be over with,” you swept through the door.

His chuckle stoked your chagrin as he caught up to you. He walked beside you as you retraced the usual path to the dining hall where he would sit and chide you for holding your fork wrong.

“Oh yeah? And how did you sleep?” He smoothed the lapels of his jacket, “Or maybe you were kept awake… by some wandering thoughts?”

You stopped short and turned on your heel to face him. He calmly met you as he came to a smooth halt and he smirked at you. His dark hair was combed neatly but still appeared soft and his thick beard was, as ever, trimmed and clean. He watched you with an unsettling confidence. His eyes ventured further down and you smacked his shoulder.

“And what happens if I tell your king what you did last night? What you tried to do?” You challenged.

He shrugged and fixed the top of your dress as the frill that ran along the neckline folded oddly.

“You think he would be bothered?” His hand slipped down your chest and you shoved him away. He caught your hand and held it firmly. “First, you do not strike a noble.” He remanded, “Like it or not, I have my own title, your highness. Second, I have done nothing more than the duty I’ve been handed. The king wants me to present him with a fit wife and your vow includes a lot more than dining room etiquette.”

“I assure you, I have more than enough experience to guide me in those matters,” you struggled with him as you twisted in his grasp. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

“My lord,” he corrected as his grip tightened, “That is how you must address me.” He released you at last. “Not Barnes, definitely not James.” He sniffed. We have only a few more days and I have little confidence that you will retain much of our work, so if anything, you might appease the king in other avenues.”

“And you would what? Show me how to f--”

“Language!” He cut you off as he grabbed your arm and spun you suddenly. He tapped your ass harshly. “You push too far, your highness.”

“You,” you tried to elbow him but he kept your arm in place as he tugged you down the staircase. “You push too far… my lord.” You descended if only to keep from falling on your face. 

“Because I must,” he sneered and for a moment, you were proud of how you had irritated him. “Because you insist on making it so… difficult.” The pause revealed his urge to swear himself. You wanted to laugh but his hold on you had you more inclined to slap him.

“Get off,” you wiggled free as you got to the bottom of the stairs, “Lord Barnes,” you spat with spite, “You want me to be proper, you want me to act as a queen would, then you should treat me like one and listen to me.”

His blue eyes gleamed as he watched you. You shook your head and waved him off as you strode ahead of him. He followed with even steps. You refused to look back at him or slow your pace. Just a few more days, but for what end? For what would be a man just as bad, if not worse.

“You’re not queen yet,” he admonished from behind, “But… not so far as you were.”

👑

Another ridiculous dance lesson, this time without Priscilla tapping your calves with her stick, and you were ready to kick your heels off. Barnes, however, had other ideas. He ushered you from the grand hall and back up the stairs. You knew where he was taking you before you even turned the first corner. The hall of mirrors was your personal nightmare. Your flaws reflected back at you from every angle.

You stopped before the door and, with his arm still hooked in yours, you drew him back.

“Not another fitting,” you pleaded as you untangled yourself from him, “I can’t--”

“You better get used to it, your highness. All of this isn’t for nothing. This will be your life. Fittings, dancing, events… your wedding is a footnote to the list of expectations.” He pushed open the left door. “For every season, you will need a new wardrobe, and as time goes, you might need second fittings.”

“Jesus,” you sighed.

“Your highness,” he reproached curtly. “You must learn to withhold your gripes. Whenever you feel you must bemoan your unhappiness, you might instead smile and count to ten. It works well for my nephew and he is much younger than you.”

“I…” you grimaced, “How dare you--” You searched for words but all you could think was “asshole”, so instead you clamped your lips shut and stormed through the doors.

“There,” he entered behind you, “Much better but you must remember to smile.”

He poked your cheek as he came up beside you and you shook him away. You squinted as you looked to the middle of the airy hall. The mirrors reflected the lights in your peripherals as you took in the scene. A bench had been dragged out and a folding screen was only six feet away, erected beside another rack of clothing. The garments, however, were scant and made your lip curl.

“What is this?” You snarled.

“Well, we have your wardrobe sorted, your attire for your engagement, and of course, the wedding dress,” he passed you and turned as he walked along the bench, “We only need to worry about the wedding night.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed dryly, “No, no, no. I don’t think--”

“Do you think? Ever?” He scoffed. “Now, I will give you a choice. Humour your stubbornness for this one instant. You can choose whichever piece you want and try it on or I can choose and put it on you myself.” He unbuttoned his jacket and pushed it back as he put a hand on his belt, “So?”

You stared at him. Your eyes strayed to the rack of laces, satins, and silks. Your gaze was drawn back as his fingers twitched and you nodded. Slowly, you crossed the hall and swept by the end of the bench. He turned and sat, you glanced over your shoulder from the corner of your eye as you approached the hangers.

You flicked through the selection and found none of it preferable. Whatever you picked would offer little coverage and you expected, little defense to the king’s whims. You tapped your toe and grabbed a hanger without looking. You felt the heat of Barnes’ gaze as you moved behind the screen.

You paused and closed your eyes. You took a breath. Your nerves swirled amid the anger boiling in your chest. You sighed and lifted your lashes. You held up the lingerie and turned it in disgust. Something blue…

The pale blue lace was stretched between slender boning along the structured bodice. You set the set down on the small stool and stepped out of your heels. You rubbed the soles of your feet as you delayed. You wanted to moan as your thumb grazed the tender arch.

“Do you require assistance, your highness?” Barnes taunted from the other side.

“I could just check the sizing and--”

“Would rather the second option?” He called back. “I do like the pink one.” You let out a disgusted ‘ugh’ and strained to unzip your dress. “Two minutes,” he warned.

You slipped out of the pink, frilly dress and shivered as you stripped off your underwear. The panties, made of delicate lace, barely covered your ass as you stepped into them. Your cheeks peeked out the bottom as the top tickled low on your pelvis. The bodice met the upper hem of the bottoms and the cups barely covered your tits, finely embroidered flowers just big enough to conceal your nipples beneath the lace.

“I can’t--” you stood and looked down at yourself, “I can’t-- Barnes, it fits but I can’t…” You were suddenly very self-conscious. You didn’t want him to see you, or anyone else for that matter. “Can I just--”

“Well,” he startled you as he came up and peeked around the screen. You tried to cover yourself but it was of little use, “It does fit.”

“Hey,” you turned away from him and grabbed your dress.

“Mmm,” he purred, “Very nice.”

His hand closed around your arm and he drew you back. He wrestled the dress from your hand and tossed it over your shoulder. He dragged you away from the screen and turned you ahead of him. He placed his hands on your shoulders as he walked you to one of the many mirrored walls.

“Look,” he ordered, “Look at yourself.”

You blinked and raised your eyes. You made yourself focus and bit down as you faced your reflection. Your flesh was on fire as you took in the revealing lace and your exposed skin. You gulped and your gaze met Barnes’ in the mirror. His tongue glided over his bottom lip as his hands slid down your sides.

“You’ve convinced me. The blue is… nice,” he slithered as he gripped your hips. He pressed against you and rocked his hips. His arousal was obvious through his trousers. 

“What-- Hey,” you grabbed his wrists, “That’s enough.”

“His majesty doesn’t like a woman who acts shy,” his hot breath grazed your scalp.

“I don’t care what he likes. You either,” you wrenched his hands away and spun to face him. “I tried it on. We’re done.”

You shoved him but as your hands met his shoulders, he caught your wrists. His eyes were dark and dangerous as they clung to you and he marched you backwards. You stumbled, afraid you would trip, and were steadied only as your back met the cold glass of the mirror. He pushed your hands against the wall on either side of your head and leaned in. His nose met yours as he loomed over you.

“Now, don’t go making a mess,” he raised your hands up above you and held them together. 

His right hand fell to stroke your cheek as he stared you down. He played with the strap of the bodice and slid his fingers beneath as he tugged it past your shoulder. You trembled as your hands throbbed from his tight grip and you squirmed against the mirror.

“Barnes,” you warned as boldly as you could but your voice wavered tellingly. “Get off!”

“You don’t want to ruin this,” his fingers danced over your breast and along your stomach. “Not yet.”

“Let go,” you begged as he fumbled with the lace along your pelvis. 

He turned his hand and pressed two fingers down your vee. He pushed along the crotch of your panties as he forced his foot between yours. He hummed as he crushed the lace against your cunt and both felt the slickness seeping through it.

“Your highness,” he rubbed your clit and you hissed in surprise. “What did I say about making a mess?”

You could only squeak as he swirled his fingers. You turned your head away from him and closed your eyes. Your thighs closed around his hand but did not deter him. He kept his hand snug against you as he curled his fingers and teased you through the lace.

He released your hand and grabbed your chin. He turned your head as his large hand framed your face. His hot breath washed over you.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded and you whimpered. He repeated himself, his tone so deep, so dark, that you obeyed without thinking. You bit your lip as his fingers kept on. “Don’t hold back. You can’t. Not with him.” He rested his forehead against yours. “You have to let the king hear you.”

“B--” your words fizzled to a moan.

“Like that.” He goaded, “Or the king will do worse. If you do not show your pleasure, he won’t care for it.” Barnes fingers sped up and you writhed between him and the wall. “He’ll use you like he has so many, or you can make him want you, like he has never before.” Your mewls grew louder as he played with your bud. “Just like that,” he growled, “Listen to you.”

You spasmed as your climax rose at once. You braced the glass as your body tensed around his hand and you quaked through the ripples of ecstasy. You gasped and gulped for air as your nerves bounced off each other and your blood pulsed hotly in your veins. 

Barnes stilled his fingers and his other hand slid down to your throat. He tutted as he stood straight and kept you against the mirrored wall. He dragged his fingertips up the lacy panties and hooked them beneath the top. 

“We’ll have to choose another,” he tore the panties down your thighs and dropped his hand from your neck. 

He rolled the lace to your feet and tugged until you stepped out of them. You leaned against the glass senselessly as he stood and folded the panties. He felt the wet fabric before tucking them into his chest pocket and buttoning his jacket. He cleared his throat and winked at you.

“Try the pink one,” he said before he strode back to the bench, “The king likes pink.”

You pushed away from the glass and covered your vee with your hands, dazed but humiliated. Only two more days. Could you make it through?

[buglife]

Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

----

It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? V // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1995 was Sunset Curve’s big break in the music world with a successful future. Between 1995-2004 a handful of things happen: Playing the Orpheum, the band buying a house, a car accident, a reconciliation, an engagement, a wedding and children. All things that potentially may have not happened had the boys continued to eating sketchy hot dogs from a car.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, labour, minor angst and a bunch of fluff.

Words: 3.1k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. The last part of your request 🥺😭

A/N: Wow. The last part in the What If…? Mini series is here. This was incredibly fun to write and while I wrote the last two parts I played a few covers and rewrites of Unsaid Emily. This is the first finished series. I’ll also let everyone know that there will be a part three for Lost Time.

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Masterlist

Hospital Maternity Room #284, 1999

“Have a child, they said. Pregnancy is a beautiful thing they said. I can confirm that asshole that said that had a dick.” You hissed from the hospital bed. A contraction contracting your midsection.

Nancy Y/L/N and Emily Patterson took up residence in the chairs on either side of Y/N Patterson in the afternoon of 1999. Nancy had been using the previous months making a scrapbook for the baby; the first bit with copies of photos from Luke and your baby stages. The rest would be the first year of your baby’s life.

“Would you like some ice chips?” Emily asked focused on knitting the baby hat for her impending grandchild.

Mitch and Lance each had made themselves scarce from the hospital in favour of working leaving the women alone.

“I’d like your son to be here to kick his ass.” Your eye twitched at the thought of your husband currently on an airplane. Sunset Curve had gone on a three-day interview marathon to the dislike of your friends and family.

Sunset Curve really needs to fire their manager with little respect for his charges’ lives. Especially the lead singer’s first child. Luke had no clue you had gone into labour.

 “Your father had words with Jerry for his meddling.” Nancy told her daughter glancing up at the strained smile through another contraction, “I’m sure Jerry thought the controversy of Luke not making the birth would be perfect for publicity.”

“I swear I will strangle Jerry if Luke isn’t here. I will pulverize the son of a bitch.” You hissed relaxing against the white sheets in the private suite. The mothers had been constants in the room while Rose, the pianist from the wedding, had visited briefly.

 Rose and the photographer Ray had hit it off so well they had entered a relationship that then blossomed a friendship with you. The couple had become dear friends in the last few months.

 “Okay Y/N, we’re gonna check your progress.” The doctor spoke swiftly tugging the disposable medical gloves on his hands. Two nurses worked with him. Your eyes pinned to the ceiling during the short examination.

“We’ve hit ten centimetres.” The doctor announced pushing the wheeled stool away to study your expressions, “Do you have your partner here?”

The tears built up as it settled that Luke might miss the birth of his first child when he had been so excited about it. He had bought and read more pregnancy books than you he had been talking with his father on how he could support you. He took classes with his mom on how to change a diaper, check the temperature of the bottle and methods for colic and diaper rashes.

Overwhelmed the feeling of two pairs of hands comforted you with the reminder that while Luke wasn’t there, you still had support. The baby would be born with both his grandmothers in the room. It was as best as it could be.

In a fast pace, you then found yourself with your legs in the stirrups with a stranger, albeit a doctor, staring at your vagina. It was uncomfortable, but it faded when the pain really began.

“Okay I want you to push from 1-10.” The doctor soothed, “Good job.”

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Nancy told you, leading Emily to open her mouth. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance.

 “I’m here!” Luke exclaimed rushing into the room, “Your dad was-“

Why was it unfortunate that Emily didn’t speak? Well, Luke unprepared caught sight of your exposed lower half. He promptly fainted with a thud to the floor.

“Are you serious?!” You yelled glaring at the puddle of your husband out cold with one of the nurses waving a package under his nose.

The smelling salt pack under Luke’s nose, bringing him back to consciousness, “Oh, boy. I fainted.”

“It happens more often than you would think.” The nurse told the young man while you focused on another push.

By the time the contraction ended, Luke had taken his mother’s place in holding your hand with encouraging words dripping off his tongue.

“This is the only child we’re having.” You hissed at the musician who continued to pale with a perfect view of the birthing in a reflection, “If you faint again I will…ARG”

A beautiful cry filled the room to the relief of baby Patterson’s parents bringing both of them to cry as well. Baby Patterson was scooped away to the corner of the room for a checkup and weight while the doctor inspected you. Time felt unreal as it passed quickly.

Baby Patterson was wiped clean as you delivered the placenta, got cleaned up with a sheet change and began to rest. Baby hairs plastered against your forehead you cooed at the swaddled form of your baby.

“So beautiful.” Luke whispered, unaware of his mother taking pictures with the lessons Ray had given her. The baby’s mouth opened with a gurgle that caused your heart to grow, “I’ll go let the boys know.”

Mesmerized by the baby, Luke made his way to the family waiting room on the maternity ward where it was packed. Opening the door, he counted Reggie, Bobby, Alex, Alex’s boyfriend Willie, your father Lance and Luke’s father. In the corner, Rose and Ray huddled together.

“Well?” Alex anxiously questioned picking at his cuticles, anxious for any news. His blue eyes begging his best friend for answers.

“Y/N is doing fine. The birth was smooth, and baby Patterson is healthy.” Luke proudly announced, placing his hands on the hem of his purple long sleeve shirt.

The room went silent before Mitch spoke, “So, do I have a granddaughter or a grandson?”

From the moment she was born, Stevie Eleanor Patterson had her father tied around her finger with her daddy’s matching hazel gaze. Lips like yours and a nose still unsure of but the nine-month-old was absolutely gorgeous with her short brown hair already curling. Of course, you could be biased as she was all yours.

Stevie wouldn’t settle without rock music of her father singing songs, but she did sleep through the night since day one. That didn’t mean she’d continue to sleep through the night, regression of sleep was tale your mother told about you as a baby.

“Hello sweet baby girl.” You whispered gently rocking the baby back to sleep mesmerized by the perfect combination of you and Luke, “So sleepy from feeding hmm?”

Stevie was heavy with the only complication being the minor tongue tie that was resolved increasing her feed. Stevie had such an appetite you had to compensate with formula to a degree, and you were sure the appetite was all Luke.

“Hey sweetheart.” Luke murmured from the door of Stevie’s bedroom wearing his Rush cutoff shirt and his staple black jeans.

The now twenty-year-old man had transitioned smoothly into fatherhood with the support of his best friends and family. Emily and Nancy had alternated staying in the guest room to help in the first month; the birth had been easy, but recovery had been at a near standstill.

“Hey!” You spoke as Stevie reacted to Luke’s voice, “I thought you said you would be late?”

Luke’s lips turned up at your words, “It looked that way, but Tom sent us home. God, I wish we had him from the first instead of Jerry.”

Both noses of the couple scrunched at the insensitive former manager that had both hit on you and insulted you when started showing with the pregnancy. The minute they could the band fired the man and found a saviour in Tom. Tom had left his previous employment with some magician with a name like Conner or something. The magician was narcissistic truthfully and had a slight obsession with the occult and death.

“Perfect. I need a shower.” You sighed shuffling Stevie into Luke’s warm embrace staring at the daddy-daughter duo.

“Have a bath. Relax babe. I got it.” Luke cooed, staring at his baby daughter’s bright gaze and dimpled smile.

Luke couldn’t believe how blessed he had been in falling in love with someone like you and receiving a gift. The gift being a father to the most beautiful angel in the world with the name Stevie.

“Love you!” You called over hastily make a flee for the master bathroom with the large tub before Stevie objected.

How lucky were you to have a husband like Luke?

Malibu, Patterson home, 2004

Luke, Reggie, Bobby and Alex, better known as Sunset Curve, had become legendary in the music world after their 1995 headliner debut at the Orpheum. In the nine years since the esteemed performance Sunset Curve had released two studio albums and toured four times. With the good times came the bad times as well.

Bobby Willis had decided he wanted to pursue a solo career creating a cavern between all four boys. He would change his name to Trevor Wilson at the suggestion of his label. He had little traction with his songs.

“Daddy!” Squealed, the three old little brunette girl ran through the modest-sized mansion to the man at the door, “I missed you!”

Luke, having memorized the routine, had already left his bag on the ground as his five-year-old daughter launched herself into his arms. Stevie had kept the hazel eyes with the chocolate coloured wavy hair. You could see yourself with her nose, chin, mouth and ears, but the rest is all Luke.

“Bug, you saw Daddy this morning.” You spoke, bringing Luke’s attention to the woman leaning against the wall. Luke’s heart fluttered, taking in the vision of his wife, who inspired so many songs.

Luke’s lips separated to reveal that perfect smile that stilled made your stomach flutter as it had since you were both fifteen. His hazel eyes glanced from your face to the one-year-old on your hip with his eyes closed. Little lips opened with quiet snores.

Hudson Jude was born in December of 2002 thankfully while Sunset Curve was on a break allowing Luke to be there. Hud was a near replica of you with the same eyes as his older sister and father. His infectious personality mimicking his uncle Reggie.

Mitch and Emily’s House May 2002

Last night had been incredible to Luke Patterson as Sunset Curve stood on the stadium stage as the sold-out crowd cheered as the song came to an end. ‘Now or Never’ had a special spot in the band’s hearts as they believed it had been the spark of interest from record execs back in ’95. Luke’s blue electric hung behind him as his best friends, his brothers, came to the edge with him. Grins splitting their faces the four boys grabbed hands and bowed to the audience.

“Thank you so much for coming out!” Luke’s voice reached every corner of the stadium drinking in the cheering and the signs in the crowd. And it felt like just yesterday they played the Orpheum before they hit it big.

The screams growing as Reggie’s winked in the direction of a group of girls, but Luke’s drifted to the VIP section. You stood with Stevie wearing the special headphones to protect her hearing. Her tiny hands clapping as her eyes wandered the large number of people.

The next morning, right now, he was in the living room with his parents, in-laws, his wife and daughter. So much had changed for the vocalist from fleeing this very house to returning to make amends. Now he watched his daughter playing with the toys Emily had found in the attic from Luke’s childhood.

“Hey I got you a gift.” You whispered to the man leaning against your legs on the floor. You sat seated on the couch while the other adults spoke.

“A gift? What for?” Luke questioned leaning to rest his head on your lap. His eyes found the little box you had hidden behind a pillow.

It was small and unassuming to the group in the living room. Luke’s fingers pulled the bow apart before the lid came off. Nestled in the velvet five guitars were. Taking one, Luke read the engraving.

“New Sunset Curve member: Coming December 2002.” Luke whispered blinking as he flipped it to see, “Daddy’s new music buddy.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, “The other ones are for the boys. The back has their names on it.”

 “We’re having another baby?” Luke softly asked, turning to face you completely. His eyes wonder-filled at the news, “Oh my gosh!”

“I know. I’m about two months pregnant at this point.” You murmured back cupping his cheeks with the stubble he hadn’t shaved yet. Tears filling both his and your eyes, “With how busy the tour was I lost track of my periods.”

“Oh my gosh. Can I tell them?” Luke pleaded on his knees, bringing the attention of both your parents. Stevie was still so enthralled by her toys she didn’t catch any words..

“Go ahead.” You smiled at the excited man. Facing the other side of the room, Luke nestled into your side on the couch..

Hand pressing on your flat tummy he grinned, “Stevie’s gonna be a big sister.”

Luke was so excited when his second child was born, he was thrilled at having a son; he would have been just as excited for a girl. He had a son and a daughter he loved with everything in him. He collaborated with Lance on a song for his own children just as Lance had.

“Hi Hud,” Luke spoke, stepping close to kiss his son’s sleeping head nestled in your neck, “How’s my gorgeous wife today.”

“Tired. Hud is breaking a new tooth, but Stevie’s been better today. She missed her uncle Alex.” You spoke, looking at your little girl.

 Stevie had become Alex’s shadow with the man even buying her a toy drumset for her fifth birthday. Alex and Willie had been away the past two weeks for a honeymoon; they legally couldn’t marry, but that didn’t stop them from having a dedication ceremony. The minute the law changed, you had no doubt Willie and Alex would find their way to a courthouse.

“We all miss Alex.” Luke sighed, “I hope he finds beach sand for the next year, there’s only so much I can take of Reggie. Bobby, Trevor came to the studio today. His sales have dropped, and his label dropped him.”

“He wants to come back?”

“To be fair he never really left the band. He went solo.” Luke admitted, “It’s hard to trust him after he took ‘Get Lost’ from us. At least he didn’t take ‘My Name is Luke’ from us.”

Your hand pushed up the hair hanging in his eyes below the orange beanie that had been a staple outfit piece for years now. Fronts pushed together, Luke kissed you for the first time today other than the quick peck as he left this morning. Hudson had a lousy sleep that left Luke staying up most the night with him.

“At the end of the day, it comes down to Reggie, Alex and you to make that decision. He’s never been a bad person, but maybe he felt like he wasn’t important. How many songs did he write?” You questioned your husband tentatively speaking to not spark his passionate anger.

You saw the annoyance in the crinkle of his nose and his eyebrows almost touching, but it didn’t take from the love in his eyes. With a sigh, he shifted Hudson to his embrace, tugging you to the spacious living room.

“If you look at it outside the band you have Stevie, Hudson and me. You have a family. Alex and Willie are connected at the hip. Reggie is with the band, volunteering at the kids centre, or with Ray.” It seemed it shifted something in Luke. His shoulders relaxed.

“The last few years have been pretty hectic.” Luke admitted watching as Stevie danced to the rock playing on the radio. Her little arms moving as if she was drumming.

Hudson shifted on Luke’s lap as you nestled into his side, watching the little loves you created with soft expressions. Stevie’s bright grin lighting up the room better than the natural light from the windows. The innocence she carried deep in her soul it felt like everything clicked into place.

“Daddy! Watch me!” Stevie giggled jumping as the song changed to Bittersweet by her grandfather Lance. The same song that played in the car accident back in ’96 that had a new meaning with having your own children.

It took a long time before Lance was able to pick up the guitar and perform; his lingering pain in his arm the cause. It took a few surgeries and physiotherapy along with relearning how to play before he performed Bittersweet. Lance performed for the first time live in your hospital room to his first grandchild.

“Whoo Stevie!” Reggie called from the front of the house. Behind him, Alex and Willie joined the same family.

“UNCLE ALEX!” Stevie shouted sprinting towards the tall blonde already crouching for the little girl.

The bond between Stevie and Alex was by far the cutest thing you had ever seen with how Stevie looked up at him. Alex would be the first to suggest tea parties and painting each other’s nails with newspaper for any spills. There wasn’t a better role model for Stevie to love. The bond was reminiscent of Uncle Jesse and Michelle from Full House.

“Ellie!” Alex shouted back swinging the little girl in his hug calling his unique nickname for her. He had taken to shortening her middle name; he really didn’t like when anyone else said it.

Peering over the pink sweater Stevie caught sight of Willie in the door, “Ready Uncle Alex?”

 At Alex’s confusion, Stevie wandered over to the skater smiling at the sight of his partner with the little girl. Willie’s brow furrowed as the girl came over to him uncharacteristically.

“Hi.” Stevie spoke, playing with her little fingers, “How was your trip, Uncle Willie?”

A small gasp from both Willie and Alex at the new title given that Stevie was shy with the skater. Stevie had been very excited for her uncle to come back from the honeymoon so she could surprise them.

“What?”

“You married Uncle Alex. That means you’re my uncle now too. Can I call you that?” Stevie’s brows furrowed concentrating on the man with tears in his eyes. The room was silent at Willie collected himself.

“I’d love that Squirt.” Willie choked out when her little arms wrapped around his shoulders, “Learn any new tricks on the drums?”

“Not really! But I lost a tooth!” Stevie excitedly spoke dancing on the balls of her little feet in the kid-sized black vans.

“Oh! Ray wanted me to pass on that he and Rose are pregnant! Baby is a girl due next year.” Reggie gasped, remembering the announcement from lunch at the Molina house, “Ray’s pretty sure they’ll name her Julie.”

The little Patterson girl eagerly informed her uncles on everything that had happened since the dedication ceremony with Willie and Alex. Even the twenty-four hours since she saw Uncle Reggie before breaking out into the dance moves from her dance classes. Hudson now toddling after his older sister with a smile on his little face.

A twist of expressions appeased on the members of Sunset Curve at the same time spoke together. All thinking of a distant vision of a Puerto Rican girl with a blurry face and gorgeous voice.

“Julie Molina? I feel like I know that name?”

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[shig-a-shig-ah]

ASSISTANCE

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x afab!reader » word count: 3.5k » contains: noncon, choking, rough sex, ass play. 18+, minors DNI. » ao3 mirror

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"This is a waste of my time," Shigaraki says in a bored voice. "I thought you needed me for something important."

Re-Destro's smile doesn't falter at the white-haired man's display of impertinence, but yours does. You attend all his meetings, since you are his assistant, after all - your entire job is to manage his schedule and take down meticulous notes and complete any other menial tasks needed of you. This meeting, however, is not going according to plan.

You'd carefully crafted an agenda on Re-Destro's behalf for this one-on-one with the Grand Commander of the newly-branded Paranormal Liberation Front, and now it was ending only ten minutes in with Shigaraki's abrupt dismissal. Re-Destro, of course, doesn't protest, only offers his characteristic proclamation that he and all his resources are at Shigaraki's disposal. Shigaraki rolls his eyes, clenching and releasing the fingers of his newly-healed hands, one of them bearing a gloved prosthetic to compensate for his missing fingers.

And then those red eyes settle on you.

"What about them?" he asks with a smirk, and while Re-Destro doesn't catch his meaning at first, you certainly do. You can see how his eyes skim your curves, sending a shudder down your spine at the openly lascivious look. Your boss, oblivious, only prattles on about your skills as an assistant even as Shigaraki is rising, walking over to you and raising one hand to tug at your tie, ignoring every word from the man behind the desk.

Shigaraki snorts - a sharp, dismissive sound. "I don't need some little secretary following me around." He's loosening the red silk knotted at your collar now. "Do you make them dress like this, or do they do that all on their own?"

Even that comment on your uniform, a perfectly professional grey suit and white blouse, plus the tie, doesn't give Re-Destro any pause. His sycophantic smile only finally starts to fade when Shigaraki offers an undeniably lewd reply to the orange-haired man's suggestion that your uniform could be changed, should Shigaraki desire it.

"Nah," the pale-haired man says. "I like it. They looks like the most attainable option in some office eroge. And I'm sure it's cute when you bend 'em over the desk for a little stress relief, right?" He laughs mockingly at Re-Destro's shocked expression, waving a dismissive hand. "Or do you not do that? Too busy storing up all that stress for battle? You know, for when you go picking fights you can't win?"

You try to shove Shigaraki away when deft fingers move to unbutton your suit jacket, but he only catches your wrists with a chuckle, holding you firm with one hand.

"Shigaraki," Re-Destro says - and quite lamely, you notice with bitterness, "if you are in need of...companionship, I'm sure I can arrange for-"

"Oh, I think this is just fine. So if you really want to do something for me, why don't you get the fuck out of here?" He raises a sparse brow in Re-Destro's direction. "Unless watching is your thing." A tiny squeak of fear escapes you at the implicit threat in Shigaraki's words, the promise that he has something more in store than this little game of harassment. 

And Re-Destro, the man who has employed you for years, who supposedly counts you among his most loyal and valuable associates, simply leans back to watch.

"Huh," Shigaraki muses to you as he notes Re-Destro's unmoving form. "I wouldn't have taken him for the type."

You wouldn’t have either. Your throat tightens as Shigaraki undoes the buttons on your shirt too, wrestling it off your shoulders even as you struggle feebly against him. Your eyes are fixed on Re-Destro, pleading wordlessly for him to intervene, but his lip only twitches slightly.

"Rikiya," you whine, tears pricking at your eyes, and Re-Destro drops his gaze from yours.

"If Shigaraki is in need of assistance," he says flatly, "then I think you should do your job."

You let out a choked little sob at his words, and another whimper when Shigaraki lifts his hand to grope at your breast through your bra, fingers seeking out the firm nub of your nipple and pinching it harshly. It stiffens under the attention, sending an uncomfortable, unwanted stirring between your thighs.

"Please don't." You address your pleas to Shigaraki now, the words coming out small and pathetic, but of course Shigaraki pays your suffering no mind.

"Aw, come on now," he coos, releasing your nipple so he can reach behind you to undo the clasp on your bra. "Even as tightly wound as baldie over there is, I bet this won't be the first time you've been fucked by your Grand Commander, right?"

Your cheeks burn at the comment, and the truth in it. You would swear to anyone who asked that your and Re-Destro's relationship was strictly professional, and you truly believed it. But your job was to assist him, and if that meant offering yourself up on the rare occasion he chose to release some of that stored-up stress without using his Quirk, then you were more than happy to include that among your many duties.

Or at least, you had been.

You look to your boss again, still begging with your eyes for him to intervene as Shigaraki peels off your bra, swatting away your hands when you try once more to shove him away. Re-Destro's face has gone tight with what you first think is anger or shame, at least until you notice the way he's palming himself through his trousers. Your stomach twists in disgust.

Shigaraki laughs when your gaze drops, leaning close so that he can whisper in your ear. "To think, all these years as his assistant and he's really going to let this happen, just like that."

The heat of his breath against your ear sends a shudder down your spine, the discomfort makes your squirm involuntarily. Your hands lift to shove against his shoulders, but pale fingers wrap tightly around your wrists as he ruts his hips into you, and your struggling accomplishes little except making you unintentionally grind back against him.

"Mm, do that again," he taunts breathily, his tongue running along the outer shell of your ear, and despite your revulsion you force yourself to go still, the only protest you can manage.

"Come on now, if you can be a good little slut for him" - Shigaraki tilts his head towards Re-Destro - "then you can do the same for me." There's a dangerous edge in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago, but you only shake your head. Re-Destro had always asked, never forced himself on you like Shigaraki is doing, and you at least respect him. Or, you had. It had already been lessening with each day that passed since he abdicated his position and took on the role of Shigaraki's fawning subordinate, and now this...well, you don't think you'll even be able to look your boss in the face after this, for so, so many reasons.

Shigaraki lets out a low growl at your continued obstinance and leans back to study you, his red eyes narrowed. After a moment the corner of his cracked lips curve up into a sadistic grin that sends your stomach dropping, and his hands move again to your tie, the one piece of clothing still adorning your torso. The red silk fabric hangs obscenely between your bare breasts, and Shigaraki toys with the knot for a moment before his other hand grips the dangling fabric, yanking downward.

The thin loop of fabric constricts roughly around your throat, and you begin to struggle almost immediately, gasping futilely for air while your hands claw at his own, trying desperately to free yourself. A malicious giggle escapes the man before you as you fight against his strength, and he pins you harder against the table you'd been leaning against when all this started. Somewhere beyond the dark spots starting to cloud your vision and the desperate, burning need for air, you're vaguely aware of his rutting into you, his cock twitching with every strained whine that manages to escape your strangled throat.

"It doesn't seem like you like this," Shigaraki says, eyes brightening as the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally start to stream down your face. "Maybe you'd rather choke on my cock instead?"

You don't truly register what he's saying, only know that his words hold the promise of relief if you agree, and so you nod frantically, desperate to escape the unbearable ache growing in your lungs. Even though you've sobbed your acceptance of his demands, he waits another few second before loosening the fabric and pulling back from you with a throaty growl.

He doesn't give you any time to recover. You're still gasping for air when white-hot pain flashes across your scalp, and then you're being dragged across the carpet by your hair, friction burns stinging your knees as you stumble from the unexpected assault. Shigaraki shoves you sprawling to the floor in front of Re-Destro's expansive desk, flopping himself down in one of the chairs there, nimble fingers already undoing his belt. He makes quick work of his pants, freeing his straining erection. Your vision is blurred with tears, but you still whimper at the sight of him stroking himself lazily as he stares down at you.

"Well? Get on with it," he orders.

Once again, you find yourself looking between Shigaraki and Re-Destro, as though the man who's simply sat watching this assault might suddenly be moved to intervene. Instead, he's shifting uncomfortably in his large leather chair, hand still massaging his length through his pants as he watches, while Shigaraki pays him no attention at all.

You let out a choked sob as you shuffle forward on hands and knees, one fist lifting tentatively to wrap around his length. Shigaraki draws a sharp breath, hips bucking as you stroke him lightly, and then his hand tangles in your hair again, tugging cruelly at your locks.

"I said suck it," he hisses and, sniffling, you extend your tongue to run over his cock, small-kitten licks along his tip and down his shaft. He groans when you brush against that sensitive spot on the underside of his member, and with no warning at all he impatiently forces you all the way down his length, burying himself in your throat.

The sudden intrusion makes you gag. You do your best to breath through your nose, but it's hard - you're snotty from the tears that won't stop coming, such a mess that you can't imagine what he finds appealing about the sight, but he doesn't seem to mind it if the way he's panting raggedly and grinding his hips into your face is any indication.

He holds your head firmly in place as he fucks your mouth, never pulling out more than halfway, so that you're choking and gagging the entire time, barely able to suck in enough air to stay conscious. Desperate for the torment to be over, you do the only thing you can think to do, hollowing your cheeks and sucking sloppily, circling his substantial girth with your tongue and grimacing at the slightly salty taste of his skin and precum. The sooner you make him cum though, the sooner he'll stop, right?

"Fuck, that's a good pet." He humps into your mouth with greater fervor until finally he forces his way past the tight ring of your throat one final time and holds himself there, cock twitching and you doing your best not to gag even more at the bitter taste of his cum on the back of your tongue.

The moment he releases you, you scramble away, wiping at your damp face with the back of your arm. It's ineffective - you're still blubbering, trembling slightly at the unexpected violation you're being forced to endure.

"Can I go now?" you ask meekly, whatever small amount of fight and indignation that you'd had before now entirely gone. You just want to get dressed, to rinse the acrid taste out of your mouth and go home where you can pretend this never happened. And, in a few days, you can start looking for another job. Maybe leave Deika City entirely if it will get you away from the two men in this room with you now.

"Already?" Shigaraki mock-pouts. "But we're having so much fun."

He reaches down and hauls you to your feet, bending you over Re-Destro's desk before you can so much as utter a surprised cry. Your face is shoved flat against the gleaming mahogany, and the disgusting sound of your boss's labored breathing is audible mere feet away from you. Shigaraki is still ignoring the other man completely, as though he isn't stroking himself off on the other side of the desk, and you nearly forget about Re-Destro too when Shigaraki starts shoving your skirt up over your hips.

"Is this part of the uniform too?" He hooks a finger into the lace top of your thigh-high stockings, snapping it against your skin a couple times before moving his attention upward. His palms run over your supple ass, squeezing at the curves, and you can feel his spit-slicked cock already growing firm against your backside.

Despite everything, you have to bite back a whine when his fingers dip to stroke over your clothed sex. Your hands clutch tightly at the edge of the desk, willing your hips not to buck shamefully at the sudden pressure against your clit; the same fear and shame that have left you so on edge have also made you more sensitive, every nerve in your body alight with heightened awareness.

"I'm surprised a little slut like you even bothered with these," he says as he pushes your underwear aside, running his thumb over your slit. "Fuck, and you're already nice and wet."

He pinches your clit, rolling that sensitive nub between two fingers, and you bury your teeth in your arm to muffle the sound it draws from you. It's unbearable that you can't suppress those noises, that you're responding to him so wantonly. As though you want this.

Shigaraki clicks his tongue in disapproval, and suddenly your arm is being twisted behind you, pinned uncomfortably at the small of your back. "None of that. I want to hear all those sweet little noises." He plunges two fingers into your cunt for emphasis, and you cry out at the sudden stretch. "That's better," he pants. You feel sick, your stomach knotted, but even so the feel of his fingers inside you and his thumb rubbing circles against your clit has you writhing in response, lewd squelching noises cutting through the silence every time he thrusts those two digits deeper into your tight pussy.

"Now the next question," he rasps, his fingers leaving your cunt to prod at the puckered entrance above it, "is which of these cute little holes I should fuck, hmm?"

Just the thought of his substantial girth invading your virgin ass is enough to make the blood rush from your face, your tears resuming anew at the humiliating though. "Mm-mm," you whimper, shaking your head protest as one finger slides past that tight outer ring, and Shigaraki leans over you, letting out a cold chuckle.

"If you have a preference you better speak up," he purrs in your ear. "Ask nicely enough and maybe I'll listen."

Your face is burning with embarrassment, but your fear at the thought of just how badly his girthy cock could wreck you outweighs your sense of shame. "M-my p-pussy," you mumble.

A second finger invades your rear entrance, and you whine at the burning ache that accompanies it. "What's that? I couldn't hear you."

"My pussy," you manage to choke out a little louder. "Fuck my pussy. Please." Your shame has you remembering once again that you and Shigaraki aren't alone, your eyes flicking up to Re-Destro. There's a faint sheen of sweat along his brow and he sits hunched in his chair, pants unbuttoned and one hand tucked into his underwear, jerking himself off with quick strokes. The sight makes your stomach clench.

"Ohhhh," Shigaraki hums. His fingers withdraw, but apparently you haven't been humiliated enough, because the flat of his palm cracks down against your asscheek once, then twice, making you writhe as you try to escape the sting. "I think you can do better than that though," he says. "Why don't you beg for my cock like the good little whore that you are? Tell me how badly you want me to fill you up."

He shoves his fingers roughly back into you, uncomfortably deep and nowhere near slick enough, and you let out a sob. "Please, Shigaraki, fuck my pussy," you cry out, loudly enough that anyone waiting outside the office could certainly hear you. You hope there's no one there, but you can't be sure as you continue to beg for him like he wants. "Stretch out my cunt, fill it up with your cock, please. I need it."

The words are hollow, but they seem to appease him. You can feel his length running along your folds, coating itself with your slick, and then he's aligning himself with your entrance. "Well," he says, still panting in your ear, the flat of one hand stroking along the outside of your thigh, "since you asked so nicely."

He buries himself to the hilt in one single thrust, stretching your cunt painfully wide and bottoming out against your cervix with bruising force. You gasp in pain, gripping more tightly to the edge of the desk as Shigaraki sets a punishing pace, working himself feverishly in and out of your heated core. When he reaches to roll your clit between two fingers again you keen, a strangled moan that's half agony, half pleasure, your cunt fluttering shamefully around his length.

"This is what you wanted, right?" he taunts. "For me to pound your tight little cunt? Fill you up with my cum like the worthless fucktoy you are?"

You can only nod, too overwhelmed to think or speak. The only thing you're aware of is sensation: his cock inside you, the way it brushes against that tender, spongy spot deep inside with each thrust, and the sharp ache of his fingers gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you. There are still tears streaming down your face, but even as you cry your traitorous cunt is tightening, a tension building in your abdomen that's threatening to snap as he continues to play with your puffy clit. You're still trying to suppress your moans, your teeth sinking in to your lower lip, but it does little to mute the sounds each thrust brings forth from deep in your throat.

"Is the whore going to cum for me?" he growls, nipping at the back of your neck. "It's okay, I knew you would. Knew you wouldn't be able to resist squirting all over like a needy little slut. Go on then," he says, "cum on my cock."

You're still whimpering, shaking your head no no no because you want desperately to deny the effect his ministrations are having, but when he presses more tightly against your clit, rubbing in frenzied circles, the coil that's been tightening finally snaps. You can feel your inner walls clamping down around him as you keen loudly, your toes curling and back arching, helpless against the involuntary pulses of pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," Shigaraki groans, his pace increasing until he's railing you with rhythmless fervor. With one final, rough thrust he slams himself as deep as possible, his cock twitching as he cums nestled against your cervix, staying buried deep inside you until you can feel him starting to soften.

You don't move when he finally withdraws, keeping your head bowed against the desk and sniffling pathetically to yourself. His cum and your juices dribble uncomfortably down your thighs, and you feel Shigaraki dip his fingers into the mess he's made, letting out a single satisfied laugh before moving away from you. There's a faint rustling as he tucks himself back into his pants, and you wait with bated breath until you hear the sound of the office door opening and closing before starting to push yourself up off the desk.

Something stops you from moving, a large hand on the back of your neck preventing your escape and forcing you back down. You whimper, your eyes darting around frantically as as a surge of panic rises in your chest. He was supposed to be gone, you'd thought it was over, you...

Your eyes land on Re-Destro. In the humiliating wake of cumming from Shigaraki's vicious assault, you'd almost forgotten that the two of you weren't alone. But your dark-eyed boss is staring down at you from across the desk, his chest heaving and the sizeable bulge still visible in his pants as he keeps you pinned down against his desk.

You feel a jolt of confusion when his hand continues to press firmly into your neck as he rises, walking around the desk to stand behind you in the spot Shigaraki has only recently abandoned. Horrible understanding dawns, and you start to whimper and trash against him, but strong hands continue to hold you in place.

"I think," Re-Destro says, "I have one more job for you to do before you go."

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (6/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 33,876

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

On Friday night, Jamie showed up at the O'Mara's doorstep with a rucksack over her shoulder like some sort of vagabond from television.

"Hey," she said.

Dani smiled, holding the door open. "Hi. Is that everything? Or do you need help bringing stuff in?"

"Nope. This is it," Jamie said, shrugging at the bag’s weight and looking bored.

"Is that her?" Dani heard a voice behind her and suddenly Carson was at her elbow. He grabbed Jamie by the hand and hauled her bodily inside. "C'mon!" he said excitedly, not waiting for her to take off her shoes in the entryway. "You're going to be staying in my room! I've made up an inflatable mattress and everything!"

Jamie shot Dani a plaintive look over her shoulder, but there was little Dani could do except grin and shrug. She closed the front door and trailed after them, Carson leading Jamie towards the stairs.

"Hold up, mate. Hold up," Jamie muttered. She tugged her arm free and Carson's face fell until she said, "Your mum will flay me alive if I tread dirt all through the carpet."

"I would do no such thing," Judy said from the kitchen.

Jamie ducked her head and gave a sheepish wave into the kitchen. "Hello, Mrs. O'Mara. Thank you for having me."

"Not a problem, honey," Judy said, sounding absent-minded as she continued stirring a large pot on the stove. "Make yourself comfortable. But — yes. Shoes off, please."

Jamie gave Carson a nudge and muttered, "Told you."

"Sorry," Carson mumbled. He waited just long enough for Jamie to toe off her boots until he seized her arm again and began the process anew. "Okay! This way!"

Sighing, Jamie let herself be dragged off up the stairs. Dani trailed slowly behind, pausing in the entryway to the kitchen and peering inside. "Do you need any help?"

Judy did not even glance up. She only turned and began arranging various ingredients on the counter to be chopped for the upcoming dinner. "No, sweetie. I'm good here. Go make sure everyone gets unpacked for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Dani didn't need much encouragement. She raced after the others and was out of breath by the time she reached the top of the stairs.

"Woah!" Tommy raised his hands when they almost crashed into one another at the top of the landing. "Don't wheeze all over me, or Eddie will think it's my fault you're dying."

Rolling her eyes, Dani slipped past him with a mumbled, "Excuse me."

Tommy trotted down the stairs without another word, already calling out for David in the garage and receiving a yell from Mike to not shout in the house — a request which was promptly ignored as David called out in return. Dani ignored them and continued along the hall leading to Carson's room. She passed Eddie's on the way. His door was ajar, but there was a piece of paper painstakingly scrawled in some alien language which probably contained secret words to keep pesky siblings out. Elvish, he'd told her numerous times to no avail. It's an Elvish riddle.

At the very end of the hall, the door leading to Carson's room — the smallest in the house — was wide open. Dani poked her head in, knocking lightly at the open door despite her blanket invitation to enter whenever she so pleased. Inside, Carson was sitting on the corner of his bed, bouncing up and down on the mattress, wholly unable to contain his excitement, while Jamie stood in the middle of the room still clutching her rucksack and looking utterly lost. True to his word, there was an inflatable camp bed carefully laid out on the floor and sheathed in a fitted sheet, complete with a pillow and duvet.

"Sorry for how small it is," Carson said, and his every second word was punctuated by a squeak of complaint from his thin mattress. "But mom said you couldn't stay in the older boys' rooms."

"S'fine," Jamie said.

Her hand was gripping the straps of her rucksack so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Dani noticed. "Hey, Carson," she said brightly. "Can you go get a towel for Jamie to use? She'll need her own for a shower while she's staying over here."

"Yeah! Sure!" Immediately Carson leapt to his feet and scampered down the hallway, his footsteps stamping down the stairs to where Dani knew the linen closet was on the ground floor.

Aiming a soft smile at Jamie, Dani nudged the door slightly shut behind her. It wasn't much, but it was enough. It shielded them from the bulk of the noise that was ubiquitous in the O'Mara house. "How are you?" she asked.

Jamie shrugged. "M'Fine. Good," she said, but her grip was firm and her accent was thick even around the various monosyllables she managed through her tightly held jaw.

"When's Nan coming back?"

Drawing a deep breath, Jamie said, "Two weeks."

"Like no time at all," said Dani. "Soon you'll be complaining that she's back and that you wish she'd stayed away."

That earned a laugh, brief and strained though it was. Jamie's eyes were darting around the room, taking inventory of the exits available to her — door, window, another window down the hall in the bathroom.

“Did she tell you why she was going back?” Dani asked in an attempt to keep Jamie’s attention on her, on the conversation, on anything but the big house that wasn’t hers.

Jamie shook her head. “Just said she needed to -” she waved her hand in a sharp dismissive gesture “- take care of things. Family stuff. I dunno.”

The total sum of what Dani knew about Jamie’s family back in England could have filled a thimble. She took a step closer and Jamie shifted her weight between her feet as though preparing to run at the slightest provocation.

"Sorry it's so loud," Dani murmured, keeping her voice low. "I know it can take a while to get used to."

Jamie blinked owlishly at her. "I don't mind loud."

"Nan's not loud."

"Maybe not when you're around. But with me? She hollers like you wouldn't believe."

Another step, careful not to tread on the corner of the duvet sprawled across the floor. "You know," said Dani slowly. "I live just across the street. Not like clear across town from your house."

"Only good part about this plan," Jamie muttered under her breath.

Dani stopped when she was only a pace away, close enough that she could reach out and gently urge the pack from Jamie's tense shoulder. "Do you wish you'd gone to England with her?" she asked.

Somewhere downstairs there was a crash, a yell, Carson calling out his apologies and being thoroughly rebuked by David. Jamie winced, but tried to hide it with a twitch of her head. Swallowing thickly, looking anywhere but at her, Jamie allowed the rucksack to be pried from her death grip and lowered to the floor.

"Not really," Jamie said. "Wish I could've stayed at your house instead, maybe. Quieter."

Dani's smile faltered. "I did ask, but -"

"- Your mum's proper mental," Jamie finished for her with a weak smile. "Yeah. I know."

Of all the empty rooms in her house, Dani couldn't think of a single one Jamie would fit into without seeming out of place. Every time Jamie stepped foot inside, the house seemed to draw its breath in dreadful anticipation. Or perhaps that was the narrowing of Karen's eyes as she followed Jamie's every movement with furrowed suspicion.

“You wouldn’t have liked it,” Dani said. “Staying with me.”

Jamie looked at her with a curious expression. “Why not? You’re there.”

Dani opened her mouth to respond, but the words got trapped halfway to her tongue. She was saved by Carson’s enthusiastic return, the sound of his running footsteps preceding him until the door burst fully open once more.

“I got two!” he said, slightly out of breath, and he held out two matching towels to Jamie. “Here you go.”

Wooden, Jamie took the towels. “Thanks.”

“Mom said dinner will be ready in about an hour,” said Carson, completely oblivious to the way Jamie stood, back too straight, shoulders too rigid. “Do you want to go mess with Eddie?”

A smile twitched on Jamie’s face, but was gone in an instant. “Tempting.”

“Hey, let’s let Jamie unpack, okay?” Dani said. Draping an arm around Carson’s shoulders, she led him from the room.

“But she doesn’t even have that much stuff!” Carson complained even as he let himself be guided away.

“I know,” Dani said, lowering her voice. “But you need to give her some space, bud.”

Carson scrunched up his nose. “Fine,” he sighed, then pushed Dani’s arm off. “I’m going to go bug Eddie myself, then.”

As he rushed off down the hall and kicked open the door to Eddie’s room, Dani bit back a laugh, hearing Eddie’s voice rise in complaint.

“Get out of here, Carson!”

“Put down your book. Nobody cares about your dumb fantasy riddles.”

“Hey! Let go! Hey!”

Dani caught a glimpse of the tussle inside Eddie’s room as she passed. Carson had grown enough over the last year that he was just about Dani’s height. Large enough that he was giving Eddie a run for his money. Shaking her head, she continued towards the stairs but paused, hand on the railing.

Down the long hallway, Jamie was framed by the doorway to Carson’s room. She was standing stock-still and shell-shocked, holding the towels as though they were a shield. As if she could feel Dani's gaze upon her, Jamie looked over and met her eye. Dani gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile, but Jamie merely blinked at her and lifted one hand in a blank-faced wave. Stifling down the urge to rejoin her in Carson’s room — close the door, shut themselves away for a bit, do something — Dani descended down the steps.

In the kitchen, Judy was chopping carrots. “Hey, sweet pea,” she said in a distracted manner when Dani wandered into the room. “How’re they going up there?”

“Fine,” Dani lied. Then after a moment she added, “I don’t think Jamie’s used to being alone.”

“Think it’s quite the opposite, actually,” Judy said under her breath. When Dani gave her an odd look, she just smiled and set down the knife. “Here.” She pushed a bag of potatoes across the counter towards Dani. “Why don’t you peel some of these for me?”

Grateful for something to do other than anxiously wring her hands together, Dani grabbed a big metal bowl and fished around in a drawer for the peeler. She carefully watched Judy move around the kitchen, mentally noting what she did and how. Every once in a while, she would be brave enough to ask about the recipe, and Judy would answer without hesitation, as if cooking a fully fledged meal was something normal and not something that one only ever experienced when away from home.

At some point Mike came into the kitchen from the garage to wash his hands in the sink. He gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting at a barstool across the counter. Dani would instinctively check every time he sipped at his beer, even though she knew he never had more than one or two a night. He nursed his drinks in a way she never saw at home. When asked or addressed directly, he would give an occasional answer. Otherwise, he lingered there for nothing than the quiet presence of their company.

Dani was just finishing up with the bag of spuds, aiming their peels into the metal bowl, when she saw Jamie sidle into the kitchen. She was uncharacteristically furtive as she took the barstool furthest from Mike, sitting on her hands to minimise her usual fidgeting even as her leg bobbed up and down and up and down in an agitated rhythm.

“Are you thirsty?” asked Mike. “We have juice in the fridge.”

Jamie nodded brusquely. “Juice is good. Thanks.”

Without needing to be asked, Dani immediately pulled out the carton of juice from the refrigerator and poured a glass. Behind her, Judy took the peeled potatoes and gave them to Mike for cutting into quarters. He rose from his seat and took the knife handed to him without complaint.

With a smile Judy leaned forward and said, “So, I understand Ruth’s gone back to Scotland. I just love Scotland.”

Frowning and picking up her glass of juice for a sip, Jamie said, “She went to Burnley.”

Judy seemed not to have heard, for she sighed wistfully, “I remember when Mike and I went to Scotland back in ‘68. We have pictures! Mike, get the pictures.”

Dutiful to a fault, Mike set down the knife and wandered off to a bookshelf in the living room. Meanwhile, Jamie said, “Burnley, Mrs. O’Mara. As in Burnley, Lancashire. As in England.”

But Mike was walking back with a photo album in hand, and Judy was gesturing for it with grabby motions. Sitting on the barstool directly beside Jamie, she opened the album and scooted closer to Jamie. “And here we are at Ben Nevis,” Judy pointed. “Would you just look at that scenery? Gosh.”

Jamie made a wordless humming noise behind her teeth, and Dani could see her trying desperately to not fidget while Judy continued flipping through the album, pointing out various pictures and places that Jamie had probably never visited in her life. Dani rounded the counter so she could peer over the top of Jamie’s head at the pictures, resting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder as she did so. Jamie glanced back at her briefly and mouthed, ‘Save me.’ Dani grimaced and shrugged apologetically.

“The Scottish Highlands really are the most beautiful place in the world,” Judy said, running her hands along a photograph of vast hills of heath and stone beneath a cloudy sky. “I’m so amazed your grandmother used to live there. I would’ve loved to have lived there.”

“She was from the Lowlands,” Jamie pointed out dully.

“Does her family have their own tartan?” Judy asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Jamie had spoken at all.

“I don’t know, Mrs. O’Mara. She doesn’t talk about her time in Scotland much. And I’ve never been.”

“Does she still have family living there?” Then Judy gave a little gasp and warmly grasped Jamie’s wrist. “You could go visit one day!”

Beneath Dani’s hand, Jamie’s shoulder went tense. From this angle, Dani couldn’t see the expression on her face, but Jamie’s voice was tight when she said, “Excuse me. I need to use the loo.”

Scrape of the barstool against the floor — squeal of wood and tile — and Jamie stalked out of the kitchen, her shadow extending down the hallway behind her even as she had gone out of sight. Dani gazed after her, chewing at her lower lip.

“Oh, boy,” Mike said, shaking his head. He stirred a boiling pot on the stove with a long wooden spoon.

With a sigh, Judy shut the photo album. “I’ve never seen that girl so reserved.” She gave Dani a fond teasing nudge to her shoulder. “You must be rubbing off on her.”

Dani couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. She much preferred the Jamie full of carefree raucous energy in comparison to — whatever this version was. The Jamie she knew wasn’t scared and silent. The Jamie she knew picked fights with people twice her size. The Jamie she knew had a loud and easy laugh. The Jamie she knew was confident and comfortable in her own skin. The Jamie she knew was none of the things Dani would ever use to describe herself.

Clearing her throat, Dani made a motion towards the hallway even as she edged towards it. “I’ll just -” But neither of the adults in the room were listening much. Judy had wandered back to the stove and was engaged in murmuring conversation with her husband. Dani took the opportunity to slip away, unseen.

The hallway was dark and empty. The door leading to the garage at the far end of the corridor was shut, behind it the sounds of muted music and laughter. Overhead, Dani could hear the stamp of feet accompanied by Eddie and Carson’s bickering. She walked along the corridor, letting her hand trail against the painted wall. She paused at the door leading to the basement, but a quick check inside proved that the stairwell leading further down into the ground was pitch black. Just as she was shutting the door, Dani heard a faint choked sound.

Passing by the linen closet, Dani stopped before the door to the downstairs bathroom. She tested the handle only to find it locked. Tentatively, Dani lifted her fist and knocked on the door.

Silence followed. Then the sound of a toilet flushing. A few moments later, the door opened and Jamie stood there, scowling. “I was actually going to the bathroom, you know.”

Dani lifted an eyebrow. “No, you weren’t.”

“How the hell d’you know?” Jamie asked.

Gesturing over Jamie’s shoulder towards the sink, Dani said, “You didn’t wash your hands.”

“Maybe I’m just a dirty pig, then.”

Dani shot her an exasperated look. “You’re not. You always wash your hands.”

Jamie’s voice sounded sharp when she spoke. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re -” she cut herself off.

Dani's brow furrowed in confusion. “That I’m what?”

“Nosy,” Jamie snapped.

Taken aback, Dani blinked. She stared at Jamie, whose hands were curled into fists at her sides, lips pursed so that the scar stood out white against her skin, the muscles of her jaw bunched up and straining even while she refused to meet Dani’s gaze.

“Do you -” Dani started to say, hesitant. “- want me to leave you alone?”

Jamie glowered at a spot on the floor but did not answer. Her shoulders were tense beneath the oversized flannel she wore, the top few buttons undone to reveal the coin necklace Dani had given her at Christmas two years ago. Dani turned to leave, to walk back to the kitchen and let Jamie gather up the pieces of herself in peace, but Jamie’s hand darted out, grabbing Dani’s and holding tight. Jamie still wouldn’t look at her, but her fingers trembled. Her palms were cold and damp.

“Sorry,” Jamie mumbled. “Sorry. Being stupid. It’s - It’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” said Dani. “It’s just two weeks. She’ll be back.”

Jamie nodded, the movement small and jerky, but she appeared entirely unconvinced. “Yeah,” she rasped. “Yeah. Sure. Two weeks.”

“And I’ll be here.” Dani readjusted their hands so that their fingers laced together, and she stroked her thumb across the back of Jamie’s hand. “I’ll be right here.”

The hallway around the downstairs bathroom was dark and a soft shadow was cast over Jamie’s face. Her eyes were dark, searching Dani’s face with tiny flickers of movement, as if looking for any hint of deceit. “Promise?” she breathed.

Dani smiled softly and squeezed Jamie’s hand. “Promise.”

They stood close enough that Dani could see the fine downy hair at Jamie’s temples and without thinking she reached up to brush back a stray curl that had fallen into Jamie’s eyes. Jamie inhaled sharply. There was an odd expression on her face that Dani couldn’t place. Not blank like before in Carson’s room, but just as difficult to parse.

“David! Tommy! I need you to set the table, please!” Judy’s voice called from the kitchen.

In answer, the garage door just down the hall burst open, and the twins barrelled through. Jamie and Dani both jumped apart, Jamie snatching her hand back while Dani tucked a lock of hair behind her own ear. As he jogged by, Tommy reached out to ruffle Jamie’s hair in passing. Jamie scowled and smacked his hand away. He laughed it off and continued after his brother.

“Wanker,” Jamie muttered under her breath, but already her posture was more relaxed. She no longer clenched her jaw like she wanted to snap a steel rod between her back teeth.

“Come on,” Dani laughed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

--

Trailing behind her mother in the botanical gardens, while colorful and beautiful, was not how Dani pictured spending her Saturday afternoon. What was supposed to be a day lazing around with Jamie and the boys had turned into Dani playing dress up at her mother’s whims and being dragged along to some corporate family friendly function.

It was going marginally well for the most part, she thought with relief. She smiled at the right moments, shook hands with her mother’s colleagues with a firm grip the way Nan taught her, she kept fidgeting to a minimum, and above all, she was quiet. Unsure of what to say and when to speak, but eager to make a polite unassuming impression in the belief that afterwards she could go to the O’Mara household and be free of this. She merely lingered behind her mother, her shoulders stiff and her placid smile frozen, as though she were a marionette doll made of porcelain.

Part way through the event, as her mother grew more distracted, laughing with her colleagues, drink in hand, Dani began to wander off. The temptation to stroll the paths lined with greenery and flowers pulled her away until she was far enough to settle into herself, to relax, to take in the beauty of the place as the sun shone overhead and warmed her skin.

She should bring Jamie here, she thought idly to herself. And though Jamie would hotly deny it, Dani knew of her soft spot for plants, her hidden talent for it, having spent much of the summer helping Nan tend to the backyard garden. She’d enjoy the spectacle and quiet, while murmuring criticisms in the same breath.

Further along the path, passing by a plot of vibrant flowers she didn’t recognize, her eyes met Roger’s. He was standing beside his dad who was talking animatedly to a group of coworkers. She had noticed him earlier but kept away, even if he was the only other kid she vaguely knew in attendance. She’d barely spoken two words to him in years, not since that day in the alleyway at school. She couldn’t imagine what she’d say to him now. He was tall and lanky after an unexpected growth spurt last spring. He saw her and raised his hand in a fleeting wave. She offered a faint grin back and a short wave. At the sound of his dad laughing obnoxiously loud, they both grimaced at the same time and turned away.

Dani groaned quietly, wishing Jamie was here to keep her company with her commentary, and hidden knowledge of every single plant and flower that caught Dani’s eye, her tone dry as though she were just making it up and hadn’t spent the past month with her nose stuck in a well worn gardening book.

Eventually, Dani’s path led her straight back to her mom, laughing and seemingly having a good time, but when their eyes met, Dani almost jerked to a stop. Her mother’s expression was hard and her smile tight at the corners. Immediately, a cold sweat spread across Dani’s skin and her stomach clenched. Her mom jerked her head, beckoning Dani over. All but holding her breath, Dani made her way over. When Dani reached her, Karen slipped a hand around her arm, fingers pressing hard and pulling her in close before turning back to her coworker to laugh at a comment, as though nothing was amiss, as if Dani’s heart weren’t suddenly racing and her shoulders weren’t bunching up incrementally.

Dani spent the rest of the event there, racking her brain over what she had missed over the day, of what she could have done wrong to have received such a look, but there were no clues. No other hints that had been somehow misstepped. Just a carry over from a bad week, where Dani had spent as much time as possible away. Away from a house that was a digestive tract. Away from her mom doing the dishes or making drinks with rough, jerky movements, like the objects in hand had offended her. Away from the chain smoking and lingering side eyes as though Dani was one step from being on the receiving end of a sharp-tongued lecture if something was misplaced or misspoken.

By the time the event was over and they were back in the car, the cabin silent from radio or conversation, Dani could feel the tension seeping from her mother in waves. Her hands tight on the wheel and her mouth pursed, not a word uttered about the day. Clenching her teeth until they hurt, Dani rolled down the window just to feel the breeze against her face, soothing against her skin and loose hair, but not enough to relax her fists in her lap and the cramped coil in her stomach, twisting tight like a spring the closer they got to home.

The moment they arrived Dani wasted no time slipping out of the car and into the house with her own keys, hearing her mom following close behind. Pulling off her flats to neatly set aside and starting towards the staircase, Dani had only just managed to dart towards the stairs when her mother finally spoke.

“Danielle, I’d like a word with you, please,” Karen said, stepping into the kitchen without a backwards glance, adding a stern, “Now.”

Holding her fists tight to her sides, Dani swallowed heavily, slowly following her mom’s path into the kitchen to find her peering into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of already opened wine.

“Yes?” Dani said quietly.

Karen didn’t speak. Simply poured herself a glass of wine before pulling out a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her purse. She lit one up with slow, almost leisurely movements that seemed so wrong in contrast with the tightness around her eyes. Flick and snap of a silver lighter, rhythmic as clockwork. Taking her first drag, she looked at Dani, smoke billowing from pursed lips as she sighed and lifted the cigarette once more.

“What am I going to do with you?” Karen said finally, her voice accompanied by a plume of smoke that wreathed her face.

Dani clenched her teeth. Swallowing down words that would make whatever she had done worse, Dani instead said, “What - what did I do?”

“You really have no idea, don’t you?”

Dani's eyes darted away to the ground, going over the last few hours as though her socks might have the answer. “No,” she said, “I - Well, I thought we were having a nice day.”

Her mother scoffed. The sound was so derisive, Dani wanted to stumble barefoot out of the house and into the one across the street where she knew Jamie and the boys would be. Holed up and waiting for her to come back and greet her with bright smiles.

“A nice day?” Karen repeated, her tone incredulous. Dani’s eyes darted up, blinking in confusion. “Danielle, you barely spoke to anyone. You wandered off by yourself. You looked as miserable as ever -”

“I wasn’t,” Dani said, her breathing turning shallow, “I was - I was -”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

Dani’s mouth snapped shut. Her mother exhaled, taking another long drag of her cigarette. Dani held her breath from the suffocating smell and smoke until it dissipated. She pulled her arms tight around her chest, watching her mom rub her forehead.

“I just don’t understand you,” Karen said, strained at the edges, frustration filing the lines of her face, “Why can’t you do anything right? What's wrong with you?”

Dani felt her face flicker with a flinch, and she had to duck her head to hide it. Hide the tremble of her mouth and the burning in her eyes. She bit into her lip to quell the feeling and swallowed hard past the lump in her throat until she was finally able to speak in the unbearably quiet room.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn't -”

Karen didn’t respond. The room remained suffocatingly silent, though Dani could feel the sting of her eyes, a long, unyielding stare. And then, there was the sound of glass sliding against the marble countertop, her mother picking up her wine. She stepped closer to Dani, no sound from her stockinged feet, until she stood just before her. Dani hunched her shoulders, wanting to back away, but there wasn’t anything behind her to shrink and meld into.

“You aren’t to go anywhere for the rest of this weekend, do you understand?” Karen said. “You are to sit in this house, and do your chores, and think about your behavior.”

Dani stared hard down at the wine glass that dangled loosely in her mom’s grip, wine threatening to spill over the lip. The ashes that scattered to the linoleum floor from her cigarette near Dani’s foot. She clenched her teeth silently before eventually nodding.

Without another word, her mother strode past her. Dani listened carefully to her footsteps as she stood frozen in the kitchen, hearing the soft thud of feet on stairs, traveling through the floor across the ceiling, and eventually, the click of a bedroom door being shut. Dani stood, alone, listening to the sound of her rapid heartbeat. She swallowed down the spark of belligerence in her chest, drowned out by the trembling of her hands and the stutter of her breathing. All hope of escape to the home across the street slowly drained from her. With befuddled disbelief. With weary acceptance. As though this was the only inevitable outcome at the end of a bad week like all the other bad weeks.

Throat tight, heart a clenched fist in her lungs, like moving through a dream — one moment here, one moment there — Dani made her way upstairs. Time passed in snippets. Changing from her sundress into pajamas. Washing the misery from her face in the form of swollen red eyes and splotchy skin with water cold enough to hurt. Curling into bed and sinking into the comforters, her head aching and exhaustion seeping into her bones despite the afternoon sunlight and muted birdsong still slanting through the window.

Her eyes drifted towards her nightstand, towards the walkie talkie Eddie had given her after the novelty had worn off for Carson, but Dani immediately shot the idea down. The walkie talkie was too loud, too exposed, and the house was too silent and too still. She hadn’t heard a noise from her mother since the kitchen, not even when she had crept upstairs to her room.  

She sat up in bed, daring to cross her room and hover her hand over the door handle. Just as quietly as she’d been before, Dani opened her door and peered around the corner of the doorframe to see her mom’s bedroom door still firmly shut. Assured with the minor hope that her mom may have fallen into a midday nap, Dani eased out of her room and downstairs, careful to avoid creaking steps and floorboards.

The kitchen phone, which had once been a creamy off-white, was now a sickly yellow, stained by decades of cigarette smoke. The coiled cord was long enough to reach across the room, and further when Dani pulled the entire phone off the wall with its long translucent and stained cable. Phone in hand, she slipped inside the broom closet in the hallway just outside the kitchen. Leaving the door open a crack to let in just enough light to see, a long strip of golden light that outlined the dust floating in the darkened room, she sank against the back wall with her knees pulled up to her chest and dialed the number she had long since memorized.

It rang just twice before Mike picked up. “Hello, O’Mara residence.”

“Hi, Mr. O’Mara,” Dani said, her voice slightly hoarse. She held her hand against the mouthpiece and cleared her throat before speaking again. “It’s me.”

“Oh, hey bud,” Mike replied, “How was your day?”

“It was really nice,” she lied, “Is Jamie there?”

In the time it took for him to call for Jamie and the crackling sound indicating the handset switching between hands, Dani had sunk further into the wall, pressing her eyes shut.

“Took you bloody long enough,” came Jamie’s voice finally, “You free to come down from your tower yet? I’m going absolutely mad. Tommy and David won’t give it a fucking break, and you’re not gonna believe what Carson dared me to do.”

"Language please, Jamie," Dani could hear Mike sigh in the background, his voice fading as he walked away and left them to it.

"Sorry, Mr. O'Mara," said Jamie, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani chuckled breathlessly, a pressure easing somewhat in her chest. “Hey, um,” she started, her voice quiet, “I’m not sure actually.”

“What d’you mean?” Jamie said. There was a ruffling sound in the background, as though Jamie were settling into her spot and making herself comfortable.

“I mean — “ Dani’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard. “I think I’m - no, I’m - I’m actually grounded.”

Jamie groaned. “Christ, what’s she going on about now? Did you have a strand of hair out of place or something?”

“Something like that,” Dani murmured, the sound of her voice sounding off even to her own ears, a tremble under the words.

The line was quiet for a long moment. “Dani,” Jamie said, her voice taking on a quiet and serious quality. “What happened?”

Dani didn’t respond. Not when she was fighting back the thickness in her throat, feeling her skin pull tight around her knuckles from the grip she had on the handset and biting down hard at her lower lip. When Dani remained silent, there was sound again from the other line, crackling pops and the movement of fabric until there was the soft click of a door being shut.

“Poppins, talk to me,” Jamie said softly.

Once, the nickname had been a joke years ago in the expanse of snow as far as the eye could see, one that Jamie had gleefully revelled in when they returned to school with her endless teasing about Miss Blythe. But then it had stuck, slowly developing into an affectionate term that Dani privately savored underneath her good natured grumbling. Now, Dani had to swallow down a swell of tears at the sound of it.

“It’s just - um. You know. Mom.”

Jamie snorted. “Gathered as much,” she said, “What’d she do?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I’m just — “ Dani pressed the ball of her palm hard to an eye, rubbing away the burning there “ — I’m just really tired.”

“Aye, and I’m Queen Liz,” Jamie said, and her voice went soft again, “Tell me, really. You don’t get this worked up over nothing. I mean, unless you’re the one that’s actually gone mad.”

Dani chuckled again, but her grin slipped away just as easily. “I’m just tired,” she repeated, leaning her head back against the wall, “I’m tired of trying and not being good enough.”

“You are,” Jamie said with conviction Dani wished she could feel a fraction of, “You’re a better sight than any of us, that’s for bloody sure.”

“But, she’s — “ Dani swallowed hard against the ache threatening to burst from her chest, “This entire week, she’s just been — “

“A cunt?” Jamie offered.

“Mean,” Dani said, “She’s been mean, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like if I do it in the wrong way, she’ll — “ She cut herself off.

For all her absences and sharp words, her mother has never laid a hand on Dani. But the feeling of her mom’s hands pressing hard into her skin still burned into her memory with a lance of fear she was wholly unfamiliar with.

Jamie was quiet for a long moment before softly offering, “Do you need me to come over? I can have a go at her, if you’d like?”

“No. Please, don’t.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, it’ll - it’ll blow over,” Dani said, “It’s fine. She’s just in a mood.”

The closet door swung open. Dani gasped, nearly jerking out of her skin as she jumped hard, her foot kicking over a broom. She scrambled to keep the phone in hand even as she tangled herself up in the chord to grab the broom and keep it upright. She blinked rapidly up at the sudden bright light cascading into the small room, only to see a shadowed form looming over her. Her eyes adjusted to the light until finally she could see her mom, standing in the doorway, glowering darkly down, the lines of her face deep and shadowed.

“Dani?” Jamie’s said, startled. “Dani, are you okay?”

She couldn’t respond, couldn't speak. Words trapped in her throat. Her hands began to tremble, and she had to look away from her mom’s unblinking gaze, eyes darting towards some spot just behind her, her vision going out of focus as her breath became shallow.

“Dani,” Jamie said again, slowly, knowing. “Is she there?”

Clenching her teeth painfully tight, Dani could only hum affirmatively in response, her head nodding faintly.

“Okay,” Jamie breathed, and then there was the sound of movement again. “Okay, give me ten minutes - fuck! Shit! Ed, move your shit off the floor! Useless fucking -!”

The dial tone cut off Jamie's steady stream of swearing. Heart hammering in her chest, Dani slowly lowered the receiver and replaced it back into the base, the sound of plastic clacking against plastic loud in her ears along with the shallow breaths she took through her nose.

Dani flinched when her mom finally spoke. “Why were you on the phone?" Karen asked, her voice calm.

Any other day, it’d be a simple question and answer. Any other day, Dani would’ve happily replied. Today, Dani couldn’t respond. There were no good options. No matter what she did, answer correctly or remain quiet, she was guilty either way.

“Was it Judy?” Karen said, folding her arms across her chest, leaning against the doorframe. Dani shrunk further against the wall, her hands clutching the phone in a white knuckle grip. “Or was it that Heron woman? Or that wild girl of hers? Jamie.”

Dani remained quiet, vision blurring as tears pooled into her eyes. The ensuing silence was agony until finally, Karen relented with a huff and held out her hand. Without missing a beat, Dani pushed the phone into her mother’s hands.

"Well?" Karen asked. She held open the door and gestured with the phone as if encouraging a dog to make up its mind at the threshold of the backyard. "Are you coming out of there or not?"

It felt like some sort of trap. As though the moment Dani tried to leave, a foot or wire would be waiting to trip her. She sank further back, shaking her head and clutching the base of the broom like a lifeline.

"Suit yourself," Karen sighed, and without another word she swung the door shut once more, leaving Dani trembling in the dark.

Dani jerked hard at the sound, feeling as though the walls could collapse atop her like a house of cards. For a terrifying moment, Dani struggled to breathe at the idea that her mother might bar the door and lock her inside, but all she heard was her own shallow panicked breaths and footsteps stomping away, until eventually there was the unmistakable sound of the front door opening and closing.

Dani curled onto herself, her hands trembling hard against the skin over her legs where she held on tight. Blood rushed through her ears as a slow ember grew in her chest, spreading through her lungs like strangling vines, like mistletoe around the roots of a tree. She pressed a hand hard to her sternum, her fingers digging into her skin through her shirt as though she could rip out the sensation, feeling her heart pounding through skin and bone. Unable to stand the dark anymore, the walls that pressed in closer and closer until she couldn’t suck in enough air to breathe, she stumbled to her feet and pushed her way out, tripping over her own legs to collapse against the opposite wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes pressed tightly shut, and sucked in the fresh open air, gasping for breath that hurt with every expansion of her lungs.

Dani didn’t know how long she sat there, desperately settling her breathing, swallowing down the panic. Slowly the world lengthened out again from the single point of struggling for air. She exhaled, the pain dissipating from her lungs. She rested her head back against the wall, eyes opening to the lines of early evening light streaking across the ceiling, lethargically wiping at her cheeks. She pushed to her feet, and moved towards the bathroom for the second time today to wash her face. Brisk sting of water against her heated skin, grounding even as it hurt. After drying her face, she stepped out towards the foyer of the house, the floor cold beneath her feet.

There was an eerie silence now that her mother was gone. It should’ve been a comfort, being away from the sting of aimless anger and disappointment. When she glanced around however, she was eight years old again, and left to fend for herself in an empty, expansive house that felt like a creature that could swallow her whole. Like she could step into a room and find a door leading her to another room. And another and another. The house expanding and collapsing like a cage of ribs with every step she took until she could no longer find the exit.

Upstairs — a muffled thump coming from the second floor. Dani jerked, blinking up at the ceiling. Another thump, louder this time. Swallowing hard, Dani reached towards a stand near the door, pulling out a long, thin black umbrella with a pointy end, and started towards the stairs.

She walked slowly, ears pricked. Flinching at another loud thump, evidently coming from her own room, her frown deepened as she edged towards it, holding up the umbrella in front of her, as though wielding a sword. But when she slowly pushed open her door with her fingertips, her head peeking around the door as it swung open, she lowered the umbrella when she found the room empty, just as she had left it.

Dani stepped further inside, her frown slipping away to a dim sense of concern.

Another loud thump. Dani jumped and spun towards the sound. Her eyes went wide when her gaze landed on her window.

“Jamie!” she hissed, dropping the umbrella to the carpet with a soft thud, and rushed towards the window.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Jamie grunted from where she hung, fingers white as they gripped the window ledge between the small gap where Dani had her window open. Half her body clung to the meager amount of roof just below Dani’s window, her rucksack dangling from her shoulder as her brows furrowed and jaws clenched in concentration, her face red from effort.

Dani ripped the window open with a thud and grabbed at Jamie’s arms to pull her in, grumbling and grunting the entire time. “Are you insane?” Dani said when Jamie was safe enough to pull herself the rest of the way inside Dani’s room.

“Not since I last checked,” Jamie said, breathing hard as she tumbled inside, gripping her rucksack with white knuckles and her eyes wide with a sort of frantic wildness, like she couldn’t believe she’d just scaled the sheer side of a house. Her hair was a tousled mess, frizzy strands dangling in front of her eyes. Dani tisked and reached forward to push them off Jamie’s face with a scowl. Grinning wildly, Jamie dropped her rucksack to the carpet and twisted around to lean towards the window, stretching and shaking out her hands as she craned her head to peer outside with a whistle, “Christ, that took some work.”

Dani pushed past her to lean outside the window, eyes darting around with increasing disbelief. “How did you even get up here?”

“Climbed?”

Dani spun around to give her a look.

Jamie shrugged, wearing an impish grin. “Started with the tree, hopped over to the roof, and shimmied over. Easy as you please,” Jamie said, peeling her shoes off and shoving them under Dani’s bed. “Would’ve tried for that branch right by the window, but the bloody thing was too far to reach.”

Turning again to glance out the window to trace the path Jamie took, Dani felt her stomach plummet and her face blanch at the terrifying distance Jamie would’ve had to cross between the tree and the meager roof. It might as well have been the Grand Canyon. “You could’ve broken your neck!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Jamie said, “How else was I supposed to sneak in?”

Dani huffed, crossing her arms. “You could’ve used the front door like a normal person.”

The look Jamie gave her was both amused and dubious. “Oh, sure, and your mum would’ve just let me inside with you grounded and all,” Jamie said, and gestured towards Dani, “And what about you? You know how long I’ve been hanging on out there, banging on the window?”

“That’s what you call sneaking in? She would’ve heard you anyways if she was home.”

Jamie paused. “Wait, she isn’t home?”

“No, doofus,” Dani said, “She left a little while ago.”

Jamie rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? I was busy dangling from your roof, thank you very much,” Jamie said, and then she was grinning again, her hands tucked into her back pockets, looking far too pleased with herself. “Hey, least I know I can do it now. Next stop: water tower, yeah?”

Dani glowered at her. “No.”

Huffing softly with laughter, Jamie arched an eyebrow and gave her a fond look. It hit Dani like a ton of bricks when the realization struck her, her face slowly falling.

“God,” she groaned, burying her face into her hands, panic settling in, “ Shit . I sound just like her.”

Laughing softly again, Jamie said, “Nah. I reckon you sound just like yourself.”

But Dani couldn’t respond, the image of mother’s glower and the painful grip of her hand pressed hard on her chest. The sound of the closet slamming shut and the ensuing darkness prickling at her skin until her fingers were shaking again as they dug hard into her face.

“Dani?” Jamie said softly.

Hearing her take a careful step closer, Dani curled into her shoulders. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her throat thick.

Warm fingers grazed the skin of Dani’s wrists, so light that it almost tickled. “Dani,” Jamie said again, slightly firmer this time, more steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dani sucked in a ragged breath and nodded blindly, feeling herself lean forwards. Jamie’s fingers wrapped around Dani’s wrists into a firm, grounding grip. “It’s okay, c’mere.”

There was a gentle tug on her arm, and Dani went easily, sinking into Jamie, burying her face into her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her waist. Jamie pulled her in close, murmuring, “I’ve got you.”

Tears sprung in Dani’s eyes again, sinking further into Jamie. If Jamie noticed her shoulders shaking from the soft hitching gasps Dani was desperately trying to keep quiet, she never said a word. Just held her tight enough until it hurt, the pressure grounding in such a way that slowly, Dani’s tears ebbed away, leaving her breathing heavy, but steadier as the seconds ticked by.

Jamie’s hand rubbed her back in a soothing motion, the pressure of her arms gradually easing. “Better now?” Jamie asked, quiet and gentle.

Swallowing hard, Dani inhaled deeply, breathing in the soft familiar scent of soap the O’Mara’s favored and the faint hint of earth on her worn shirt. Dani nodded, a short up and down jerk of her head, and pulled her face away just enough from Jamie’s shoulder to murmur, “You always give the best hugs.”

Jamie chuckled. “S’what I’m here for,” she said with another brief hard squeeze, and then gently offered, “You wanna talk about it?”

Dani shook her head.

“No problem.”

With Jamie seemingly happy to remain where she was, Dani held on for just a moment longer, savoring the comfort from her best friend, until Jamie said, “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Poppins, but you weren’t planning on knocking me out cold with an umbrella, right?”

Dani laughed, a pressure valve releasing from her chest, feeling like she could breathe properly again. Jamie chuckled, and murmured, “There we are.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something.”

“A burglar? In North Liberty? Jesus, that’s considered grounds for a life sentence here, inn’it?”

Dani giggled breathlessly. “Something like that,” she murmured. They fell silent again, Jamie’s arms warm and steady around her like an anchor, until finally, Dani broke and said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Jamie said, her voice firm. “Look, I know I’m a twat on the best of days, but you don’t ever have to apologize for something like that, all right?” When Dani didn’t respond, Jamie flicked her on the back of the head. “All right?”

Dani huffed and pinched her side in retaliation, pleased when Jamie twitched. “All right,” she said, finally easing away, her head ducked as she hastily rubbed her cheeks and under her eyes.

“Good,” Jamie said, and when Dani stepped away towards the umbrella, still not looking straight at Jamie, she added, “Sure you’re steady enough to handle that? Haven’t you heard umbrella’s are considered a deadly weapon?”

Dani picked up the aforementioned umbrella and brandished it towards Jamie as though to spear her through the stomach. “Don’t make me use this.”

Holding up her hands in a gesture of peace, Jamie chuckled and smirked, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Rolling her eyes, Dani left her in the room to stumble back downstairs and replace the umbrella in its stand. She stood there and exhaled heavily, pressing her hands again to her eyes to steady herself. When it finally felt like she wasn’t about to collapse into pieces, she made towards the kitchen and went about setting up the kettle on the stove to heat. Taking out the mugs that she and Jamie favored — one patterned with stars, the other with florals — she also reached further back in the cupboard to pull out a hidden old altoid tin that was packed with a ziplock of teabags. A treasure trove she had once scoured from Jamie’s house for times like these when she was over.

Leaning against the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil, her eyes landed on the kitchen phone that lay discarded haphazardly on the counter top. It laid on its side with the handset having fallen off the base, and the translucent cable unplugged and tossed to the floor. Her hand drifted towards her mouth, eyes unseeing as she bit her thumb hard enough to hurt.

The kettle whistled. She jumped, jerking her thumb away from her mouth at the shrill sound, and she rushed to pull the kettle off the stove and turn the burner off with a rough twist of her wrist. She exhaled heavily, steadying her racing heart, and began putting together their tea.

When she arrived back to her room, mugs of tea in hand, she smiled fondly at the sight that greeted her. Jamie had made herself at home, stretching out on her bed with one leg crossed over the other and an arm resting behind her head as she held up Eddie’s walkie talkie to her mouth, making grotesque noises.

“Edmund,” she drawled in a guttural voice, “I’m coming for you, Edmund. I’m gonna eat your eyeballs.”

Dani snorted. “Just because it worked once, doesn’t mean it will again.”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie rested the walkie talkie against her chest. “Worth a shot,” she sighed, and then her eyes brightened when she caught sight of the mugs in Dani’s hand. She sat up, discarding the walkie talkie beside her and made a grabbing motion towards the floral patterned cup, “Oh, you’re a star.”

Easing onto the bed next to Jamie, she handed the mug over and watched eagerly as Jamie’s mouth curled into a pleased grin, her hand fearlessly wrapping the burning hot mug with practised ease. But at the first sip, she froze, going stock still as her brow knitted together.

“Well?” Dani asked.

Lowering the mug from her mouth, Jamie frowned contemplatively down at the steaming beverage with pursed lips, faintly nodding. “It’s a talent you have,” she said, “Truly.”

Dani groaned, easing back against her pillows, raising her own mug — a smattering of silver stars against a dark blue backdrop — to her mouth, taking a careful sip of her own. “Tastes fine to me,” she muttered.

Laughing, Jamie nudged her leg with her knee. “Appreciate the effort though,” she said, “Didn’t even need to ask for any. And it’s the kind from home, too. Nan know you nicked some from her precious stash?”

“Maybe,” Dani mumbled into her mug, but her eyes darted to Jamie all the same at the mention of Nan, looking for any lingering tension of any kind in Jamie’s demeanor. All she found was a reserved quiet as Jamie sipped again at her tea without any complaint, though she wasn’t able to hide her mouth twisting in distaste as she rested her mug on the nightstand.

“I brought some stuff to keep us company,” Jamie said, grabbing her bag from off the floor and hauling it on her lap, digging her arm inside, “Unless you wanna go downstairs and watch something.”

“No,” Dani said immediately, shaking her head, “She could come home any second.”

“You sure? I’m sneakier than a cat,” Jamie said, “There’s plenty of places to hide, besides. She’d never know I’m here.”

Dani shook her head resolutely. “No, I want to stay up here with you.”

Smiling fondly, Jamie relented with a soft, “All right, then.”

She pulled out her transistor radio and switched it on, the sound of electric guitars and drums filing the room. Twisting a knob on top, the rough alternate music that Jamie loved cut off to a jumbled flickering of noise as Jamie sped through stations until landing on one they both enjoyed. It was only by staring at Jamie’s hands did Dani finally notice the inexplicable blue paint on her nails.

“There we are,” Jamie said to the sound of soft rock music, and set the radio on the nightstand next to her tea.

When Jamie settled back against the pillows, Dani grabbed her hand, inspecting the color. “Is this nailpolish?” she asked, incredulous.

Jamie sighed exasperatedly. “Told you. Carson’s fuckin’ fault,” Jamie grumbled, allowing Dani to inspect her nails with fascination, “Bet him he was too scared to paint his nails with Judy’s nailpolish and the cheeky bastard dared me to do it also if he followed through.”

“So —?”

“So, he’s rocking hot pink nails for the foreseeable future.”

Dani laughed, resting her head against Jamie’s shoulder. “I’d kill for a photo of that.”

“I’ll get it for you when I head back,” Jamie said, her mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk, “Blackmail has never sounded so good.”

Huffing with a soft laugh, Dani smacked Jamie’s arm. “You’re a menace.”

Humming softly, her smirk twisting into outright devilish territory, Jamie reached into her bag again and pulled out two books. “Also brought these with me,” she said in a suspiciously light tone. “Thought you might enjoy an evening of fancy entertainment.”

Narrowing her eyes, Dani reached with her free hand to inspect the books, and when she caught a peak of a familiar provocative cover, she yanked her hand back as if it had been scalded, jerking her head from Jamie’s shoulder. “Jamie!” she hissed, shuffling away and resting her mug on the nightstand on the other side of her bed as Jamie laughed loudly, “Why do you still have that?”

“‘Cause I haven’t finished it?” Jamie said, her voice turning up at the end as though she were answering a dumb question. The smile she wore and the glint in her eyes said she was taking great delight in the way Dani’s cheeks heated up. “You saying you aren’t interested? Brought it just for you.”

Dani scowled. “No, I am not interested,” she said, and warily eyed the way Jamie tossed the other, thicker tome on the bed to rapidly flip through the book, the yellowed pages fragile and flimsy in Jamie’s hands.

The book in question was one of those dirty dime paperbacks hidden at the top shelves of gas stations, the cover an artist's depiction of a blonde woman scantily clad in a dark dress on a bed. It was ancient and peeling in places along the edges, and above all, it belonged to David. Just a week before Nan had set off to England, Jamie had proudly and wickedly showed off her prize in her room to Dani, claiming to have found it peeking out from between the mattresses of David’s bed a few days prior. Dani had nearly ran from the room just from the sheer embarrassment of being in the mere presence of it, her face scalding red.

“How has David not killed you yet?”

“Still doesn’t know who nicked it,” Jamie said, and snickered, “Absolutely losing the plot, too. Keeps looking at Judy and Mike like they’ll strike him down any second.”

“Like I said: a menace.”

Jamie winked and smirked, “You love it.” And without warning, just as Dani was fondly shaking her head, Jamie opened the small paperback, muttered, “Now, where was I,” and began to read outloud.

“Jamie,” she groaned, feeling her face burn at the explicit content Jamie was gleefully reciting.

“Oh, hold on. This bit is good,” Jamie said in between breaths of laughter, “She was ready for him, her lips red and wet, her tongue a thing of raging desire —”

Dani smothered Jamie’s mouth with her hand. “Oh, my god, please stop.”

Laughing against her palm, Jamie pushed her hand away. “He almost died in the wonder of her kiss, of her surging body, and as he thru — shit, wait. Gross. Hold on, here’s a better part  —”

“Oh, my god.” Dani rose to her knees, grabbed the pillow from behind her, and pushed it into Jamie’s face. “Shut up .”

Jamie laughed wildly as Dani pushed her down on the bed, smothering her face just enough to make her stop. Dani held one hand down on the pillow as the other stretched for the book. At the graze of their hands, Dani dangerously close to ripping the book from Jamie’s grasp, Jamie yanked the book away from Dani’s reach. The bed shook as Jamie flailed her legs, squirming away, a foot threatening to push Dani off by her stomach. Laughing just as hard as Jamie, her sides twisting into a cramp, Dani pushed Jamie’s legs out of the way to straddle her hips and gain the advantage.

Jamie froze, her laughter cut off as she sucked in a muffled breath.

“Are you done?” Dani said between fits of giggling, her grip firm on the pillow over Jamie’s face.

Jamie was barely breathing, her ribs beneath her t-shirt expanding and shrinking with shallow movement. A spark of concern abruptly lit in Dani’s chest. She ripped the pillow from Jamie’s face, fearing that she’d maybe smothered her, but she was greeted with Jamie blinking up at her with wide eyes. Her face was flushed, her hair a tangled mess across the pillow beneath her, the coin necklace twisted around her neck.

“Did I almost just kill you?” Dani said, just short of panicking as she leaned closer to get a better look.

Her throat bobbing, Jamie’s eyes flashed across over her so fast, she could’ve imagined it. “I’m breathing, aren’t I?” Jamie said, chuckling breathlessly.

“Hardly,” Dani said dryly, sitting upright and folding her arms. “Now, are you done?”

Jamie smirked. “Maybe.”

Dani gave her a look and held out a hand. “Give me the book.”

Jamie rolled her eyes with a sigh so long-suffering that Dani snickered. “Yes ma’am,” Jamie drawled with another smirk, and moved as if to finally hand the book to her, but her hand froze midair with a considering frown that bordered on insolence. “But are you sure, though? Was just getting to my favorite part. Something about grabbing a pair of firm, creamy bre — “

“Ugh,” Dani groaned, ripping the book from Jamie’s grasp to toss across the room with a thud and pressed the pillow back to Jamie’s laughing face.

Pushing up and away from Jamie and the bed, Dani marched to her bookcase and pulled out a random book from a shelf. “Here,” she said, flinging it onto Jamie’s stomach without even looking to see what it was, her cheeks still burning, “An actual real book you can read.”

Jamie at this point had pulled the pillow from her face and sat up, dishevelled and fondly amused as she picked up the book to look it over. She snorted. “Mrs. Dalloway? Really?” she said, arching an eyebrow at Dani. When Dani gave her another biting look, Jamie aimed a wry grin at her as she tossed the book aside to grab the other paperback she had brought, waggling it in Dani’s direction, “I brought a backup, don’t you worry.”

Scowling, Dani dropped heavily back onto the bed without a glance in Jamie’s direction, swiped up Mrs Dalloway from the sheets and promptly buried her nose in its pages. “Your tea is probably cold now,” she muttered, ignoring Jamie’s soft snickers, her skin refusing to cool down.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Dani elbowed her hard in the ribs, smirking when Jamie grunted at the impact.

They finally settled after that, sinking into the bedding and pillows next to each other, lost in the world of their individual books. Music played softly to keep them company. Knees and feet occasionally knocking together, shoulders pressed up against each other. Her eyes became heavier as she read, the words blurring in and out of darkness as she sunk further into the mattress, easing her head on Jamie’s shoulder. While she couldn’t see her expression from this angle, she could picture Jamie’s eyebrows faintly furrowed in concentration, turning a page every so often, quietly engrossed in her book that Dani’s seen her cart around before: Valley of the Dolls.

“Is yours any good?” Dani asked.

Jamie’s shoulder shrugged under her head. “Suppose so. Unless you find reading about a couple of Hollywood actresses ruining their lives any kind of fun.”

Dani frowned. “Where did you even get it?”

“Came with the house. Found it in a box in the basement,” Jamie said, “It’s a bit barmy to be honest.”

Humming contemplatively, Dani glanced over the words on the page Jamie had open, finding what she saw nonsensical out of context. “Not the first time I’ve seen you read it though.” Jamie chuckled softly, but didn’t respond. “Can I read it when you're done?”

“Not really your kinda book I think,” Jamie said, a finger tapping on the edge of the pages.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me smother you again.”

“Fine. You can have it now if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You can finish first.”

“As you wish,” Jamie said softly.

They fell quiet again. Dani found that she couldn’t concentrate on the words before her, not with Jamie breathing softly beside her, or her curtains ruffling as the warm summer breeze wafted through her open window, or the music that played like white noise in the background. Her head drooped heavier onto Jamie’s shoulder until she finally let her eyes slip shut.

The next time her eyes fluttered open, the room was darker than she last remembered, the evening sun casting sharp streaks of light across her room. She was curled up on her side, facing the wall but she could still feel the warm length of Jamie next to her. Her eyes landed on the jar on her desk labelled ‘Travel Fund’ , and blinked drowsily at the dollar bill she hadn’t seen earlier that day stuffed inside.

Slowly, her head feeling heavy and sluggish still, she turned around and gazed up at Jamie. Expression set with concentration that seemed more like a scowl than anything, Jamie held up the half dollar coin attached to her necklace, rubbing it between the pads of her fingers while the other hand now held open Mrs. Dalloway. She already seemed to be at least twenty pages in and visibly struggling with the prose, but determined to continue. Then Jamie’s eyes flitted down to Dani and her expression softened.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jamie said.

With a groan, Dani rubbed her dry eyes and turned on her back. “How long was I out?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Bit over two hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Jamie shrugged, resting the book against her legs. “Reckoned you needed the sleep. Had a long day, and all.”

The smile Dani gave her was warm and affectionate, even as her stomach clenched at the reminder of the day's whirlwind of events. Jamie’s throat bobbed, and returned her gaze to the book. “Mind if I borrow this?” At the shake of Dani’s head, Jamie grinned, marking her place with a bookmark before setting the book aside. She visibly hesitated, before she said, “Your mum came home a bit ago, by the way.”

Dani’s stomach sank. “Oh.”

“Hasn’t come to check on you. I blocked the door just in case,” Jamie said with a short gesture to Dani’s bedroom door where clothes hung on a door rack and a chair that normally held clean laundry was propped against the doorknob. “Heard the tv on since she got in, and not a peep since.”

When Dani didn’t respond, didn’t move besides the clenching of her fists and stomach, Jamie calmly continued. “Ed checked in too. Wanted to see how we were doing. You know how he is; always worried. Scared of your mum too. Bit mental how you slept through that though. Thought Carson was gonna blow out the speakers with how loud he was banging on for us to sneak back over.”

Dani huffed out a laugh, and Jamie smiled down at her. “We missed dinner too,” Jamie said, “Ed said that Judy made us plates, so I ran over to grab ‘em and let her know I’ll be here for the night.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Dani pushed herself up, eyes wide. “But - mom. She - “

“Didn’t see me,” Jamie said, and smiled reassuringly. “She was asleep.”

“Okay,” Dani breathed, nodding faintly, panic quickly receding. She exhaled slowly, grateful for Jamie’s comforting silence, their knees pressing together. “I should - um. I should check on her. See if she’s okay.”

Jamie nodded easily. “I’ll come help bring up dinner.”

Dani swallowed hard, but nodded.

They slipped their way out of Dani’s room, and padded softly downstairs. The lights in the living room were off from where Dani could see in the hall, but for the evening sun and the flickering light of the tv cascading the room. Jamie slipped away to the kitchen, while Dani continued onwards towards the smell of smoke and wine.

Her mother lay sideways on the couch facing the television, breathing deeply as she slept, still wearing her clothes from earlier today, rumbled and wrinkled. A glass with remnant drops of wine sat on the coffee table next to a bottle and an ashtray littered with crushed cigarette buds. Dani swallowed hard, an anxious pit forming in her stomach just at the sight of her, but as she edged closer, eyes searching for any lit or forgotten cigarettes, she slowed when her eyes landed on her mother’s face.

Exhaling softly, Dani moved with the muscle memory of having done this a hundred times before. Reaching for the patterned throw blanket draped across the back of the couch, unfolding it to drape it across her mom’s sleeping form, careful to tuck her in with as little contact as possible. Frowning down at her, Dani hesitantly reached her hand out and shifted a stray strand of blonde hair out of her mother’s face. Karen shifted and Dani pulled her hand away, tightening them into fists by her side, but her mother did not wake.

Doing one more scan across the floor and couch, pleased to find no cigarettes in sight, she turned the tv off and gathered the wine glass and bottle, starting towards the kitchen without a backwards glance. But as she turned, she jerked to a stop at the sight of Jamie standing frozen by the entrance, two plates of food already in hand, eyes unblinking on the sleeping form of her mom, wearing a deep frown that shadowed her features.

Swallowing down a swell shame, Dani stepped closer into Jamie’s eyeline. “Hey,” she murmured.

Jamie’s eyes caught Dani’s, blinking owlishly, her shoulders taut and the muscles of her jaw corded tight. “See you upstairs,” Jamie muttered, and disappeared up the staircase without another word.

Biting at her lip, her stomach clenching, Dani continued towards the kitchen. She washed the wine glass and set the empty wine bottle away under the sink, trying to settle the worrying pit in her stomach from Jamie’s tightened expression, having made its return since the day before at the O’Mara’s. When she was done, she gathered two glasses of orange juice and returned upstairs to her room with a deep fortifying breath.

Jamie was already wolfing down her dinner, shepherd’s pie from the looks of it, not glancing up as Dani entered and blocking the door again behind her. She set Jamie’s juice on the nightstand beside her before returning to her spot on the other side of her bed where her plate was waiting for her.

“Is it good?” Dani asked, more just to hear Jamie’s voice again rather than the quality of food that she already knew would be hearty and appetizing.

Her mouth full, Jamie nodded with a grunt, not looking at Dani.

Ducking her head, her plate in her lap, Dani pushed around the food with her fork. “Sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.

Jamie froze beside her, her knuckles white around her fork. She slowly turned her head to stare at Dani. “What for?” she asked, her voice low and flat.

“Just -” Dani made a weak gesture towards the door, towards downstairs, where her mother slept. “- That.”

“No,” Jamie choked out. “I’m -” She cut herself off, falling silent for a long moment before dropping her fork to the plate, metal clanging against ceramic, and pushed the plate away on the bed.

Dani looked up at her, seeing that same darkened expression, her teeth clenched and her brows furrowed, working her jaw as though she was desperately trying to think of something to say. Dani glanced away, back to her food.

“It’s okay - um. Let’s - let’s just finish dinner,” Dani mumbled.

She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her, piercing and unblinking. When Dani finally forked a mouthful of food into her mouth, she saw out of the corner of her eye Jamie reached forward to pull her plate back into her lap. It was painfully quiet, besides the radio still going and the scrapping of their plates. Dani found that she could barely taste anything at all as she ate. Jamie finished her meal before her — she always ate as though the food might disappear at any moment — setting her plate aside on the table before leaning back against the pillows, knees pulled up to her chest, her hands dangling over her knees, clenching and unclenching. When Dani finished, sipping at her juice before moving to stand, Jamie spoke again, her voice quiet.

“Sorry.”

Dani froze. “Why?”

Visibly swallowing hard, Jamie rolled her head against the headboard to meet Dani’s eyes. At Dani’s frown, Jamie pushed herself up, crossing her legs and taking Dani’s plate from her hands to discard on her own before shifting to fully face Dani, her expression taut but determined.

“I told you that you never had to apologize to me for things like that, for your mum, and I — “ Jamie’s voice cracked, and she scowled down at her lap in response. Slowly, Dani turned to face her, mirroring her crossed legs and patiently waited, her heart thumping steadily against her ribs. Jamie inhaled slowly and caught her gaze again, her eyes stormy and vivid.

“You don’t ever have to be ashamed of it. Of any of it. Not to me,” Jamie said, but there was an odd pinch to Jamie’s expression, a darkened hue of shame of her own as she was unable to hold Dani’s gaze any longer, eyes darting down to her lap. “I just - what I’m trying to say is that I understand. I know what it’s like, what it feels like. More than you think.”

Slowly, Dani reached out and grasped one of Jamie’s hands to pull in her lap, unfurling her clenched fist to lace their fingers together, her thumb running over Jamie’s knuckles, feeling the grooves on her skin. Jamie exhaled slowly, quietly. The muscles of her shoulders easing from their tight coils.

“Told you, you wouldn’t have liked staying here,” Dani murmured.

Jamie’s eyes flashed up to Dani’s, intense and sharp, pinning Dani to the spot. “I meant what I said,” she said, “S’long as you’re here, that’s all I need.”

Words trapped in her throat, not knowing what else to say, Dani just nodded. Her grip on Jamie’s hand tightened. She felt the ghost of the pressure return in her chest before she pulled her hand away and curled on her side upon the mattress. Jamie followed her, facing Dani with a look of faint concern.

“So, she overheard you today?” Jamie asked quietly.

After a moment, fiddling with a strand of untwined thread from her comforter, Dani shrugged. “I don’t know,” she murmured, “She didn’t really say anything. She — ” Dani’s voice caught, memories of trembling in the dark “ — she left kind of right after.”

Jamie watched her quietly, her eyes traveling over her face as if searching for something. “Y’know,” Jamie started slowly, “You’re over all the time already, but you’re always welcome to stay with us whenever you like. If you don’t want to be here or you’re sick of the lads across the street. Nan doesn’t act like it, but she likes you. She wouldn’t mind.”

“I couldn’t - I couldn’t ask you to —”

“Dani,” Jamie interrupted, her grin soft, “We wouldn’t mind. Really.”

Dani could only smile, a warmth spreading across her chest as she reached a hand forward to link their pinkies. “Okay,” she murmured.

“And,” Jamie continued, a glint forming in her eyes, “If your mum catches you on the phone again, you just tell her it’s me. I can handle it.”

“That doesn’t really seem like a good idea,” Dani said, uncertainly.

“Look,” Jamie started, “your mum and I have an understanding. We don’t like each other, and to be honest with you, I couldn’t give two shits about it.”

Dani chuckled, but quickly sobered. “Keep that up, and she’ll probably never let me see you again.”

Jamie scoffed derisively and gave Dani a significant look. “As if she could keep me away.”

Sinking further into her pillow to hide her grin, Dani recalled Jamie scaling her house just a few hours ago. Without a word, Dani slid closer, rolling Jamie on her back to press her cheek against her shoulder and slip an arm around her waist. Jamie stiffened for a moment, and then sank into the sheets, an arm slowly moving to wrap around Dani’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dani murmured into her flannel shirt, soft underneath her skin.

She felt Jamie’s thumb rub comforting motions against her shoulder, her other hand smoothing over the arm Dani had across her stomach, warm and grounding. “Anytime.”

--

The next morning, Dani woke to the slant of sunlight across her face. Jamie, no doubt having woken up with the sun, was next to her in bed when Dani blinked her eyes open, squinting in the morning light. She held a hot cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other, resting on an upright knee as she read. Dani would’ve thought that time had frozen from the day before if it weren’t for Jamie’s change of clothes and dishevelled hair from a night of sleep.

“Morning,” Dani murmured, her voice groggy, stretching her legs beneath the sheets. She eyed Jamie’s floral mug. “Did she see you?”

Jamie shook her head and flipped a page. “Waited ‘til she was gone,” she said, “Left a bit early too.”

“Oh."

It wasn’t often her mother left her behind for Sunday Church. It generally only occurred when she was upset with Dani more so than usual. The feeling left an acid discomfort in her stomach, and she curled further into herself to quell it. Seeing this, Jamie lowered her mug and her expression softened.

“Hey, more time for us to laze about, yeah?” Jamie said, her foot nudging Dani’s leg from above the comforter.

“I have to do chores,” Dani muttered into the sheets of her pillow.

Jamie’s mouth thinned. “Well, four hands are better than two as they say, or whatever.”

“I think the saying is two hands are better than —”

“Shut it. I haven’t finished my tea yet.”

Dani snorted, and was silent for a moment, before she said, “I really couldn’t ask —”

“Before you start banging on about it, I already did our dishes for you,” Jamie interrupted, her stare firm, “Let me help. Faster we finish, the faster we can get on with our day.”

In the end, it didn’t take much effort to convince her, not when Jamie was intent on being so sweet. It wasn’t often Jamie was so malleable and eager to help, and Dani found it to be remarkably charming and endearing, even as she awkwardly gave Jamie orders to get a head start on vacuuming during Dani’s hasty breakfast of cereal and tea. Jamie only fondly rolled her eyes as she trotted upstairs with the vacuum. They worked quickly and in tandem, Jamie’s radio blaring loudly as they cleaned that eventually Dani couldn’t help bobbing her head and singing along to the words. By midday, the house was clean and they were sweating in the humid summer heat. Before Jamie could even argue, Dani pressed a clean towel to her face and shoved her towards the bathroom to shower. Jamie laughed as she went, her smile brighter than it’d been in days.

Showered and dressed in clean clothes, the day was now theirs. The cinched feeling in her chest since waking up to her mother’s absence was loosened, but not entirely gone. It was the calm before the storm for when her mother returned. But until then, they spent the day much as they did the day before, holed up in Dani’s room with their books and music and endless conversation about everything and nothing.

“You need a bloody tv in here,” Jamie said at one point, tossing aside Mrs Dalloway in favor of returning to the dirty paperback Dani refused to look at, blessedly quiet this time.

When they overheard the unmistakable noise of the front door opening and slamming shut, Dani was all but shoving Jamie’s bag in her hand.

“What do you expect me to do? Jump out the fuckin’ window?” Jamie hissed.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Dani hissed back.

They held their breath as her mom’s footsteps passed by Dani’s room and disappeared into her own with the click of the door pressing shut. And true to her word, Jamie did give off the appearance of a sneaky cat as she slinked quietly through the house with Dani behind her.

“You gonna be all right?” Jamie whispered, shoving her feet into her canvas shoes.

Dani shrugged, quietly easing the door open. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Jamie frowned at that, but said nothing except for, “I’ll check in later. If you need me sooner, flash the porch light twice.”

Dani nodded.

“Chin up, Poppins.”

With a departing wink and grin, she was gone, jogging across the street. Dani grinned after her and silently shut the door. The house felt abruptly quiet with Jamie gone. A hollowed chamber where Dani could hear the echo of every sound and movement in the walls and floors. A drip of the tap. The groaning pipes. The whistle of wind through a window crease. Twenty-four hours alone with Jamie in her house, and it was like Dani had suddenly forgotten what the emptiness of it felt like.

A creak of a door opening sounded through the second floor. Dani stiffened at the noise and started towards the kitchen for anything resembling food. She was in the middle of preparing a simple sandwich when she heard the steps of her mother pad into the kitchen. Dani swallowed hard, knuckles white against a butter knife, her breath caught in throat, her ears pricked. She held herself still, as though she could camouflage into the walls, making herself as small as possible. Prey hiding from predator. Her mother moved behind her — the opening and closing of cupboards and fridge, the clink of glass, the opening of a bottle — and then, she was gone. Leaving a trail of smoke lingering in the air, never speaking a word. Dani started when the tv in the living room clicked on, the volume loud and oppressive. It was only when she was finally back in her room, the chair lodged under the doorknob, that could Dani breathe again.

She hid there for the remainder of the day with the company of her books, and the radio Jamie had inexplicably left behind. This she was used to. The silences of cold shoulders and the quiet of her room. But a few hours in the company of Jamie by her side, having grown comfortable with her presence in her room, it was achingly lonely and by the second hour, she was bored out of her mind. But then came the familiar voices over the walkie talkie to her rescue.

“Danielle?” came Eddie’s voice, “Danielle, you there?”

“Lower your voice, you knob,” hissed Jamie’s voice.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, “Danielle?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Dani replied, curling up on her side.

“Everything all good over there? Do I need to climb a tree again?” Jamie asked.

“You climbed a tree?” Eddie said, puzzled.

“Not important.”

Dani chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just bored, I guess.”

“Tomorrow’s Milkshake Monday, you should come over,” Eddie said, “When you’re not grounded anymore, I guess.”

“Please, Dani,” Jamie added, “Dunno how Mrs. O’Mara does it. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, you’d think this lot never showered with the way they smell.”

“Hey! Shut up, it’s hot outside, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Dani said, biting back a laugh.

“Oh! Is that Dani?” Carson’s voice appeared, “Dani, come over!”

“Christ, could you shu — “ Jamie’s voice cut off, as though she had taken her finger off the ‘push to speak’ button.

Dani quietly laughed, her heart warmed and aching with how much she already missed them, even if they were just across the street. They kept her company on and off throughout the rest of the evening. Jamie offered to sneak food over, until Dani had to reassure her she had enough to fill her for the night. Carson recited running commentary on the ongoings of everyone in the house, audibly disrupting them all until they brightened when they realized who was on the other end, saying their hellos. And near the end of the night, when Eddie had finally swiped back his walkie talkie, he murmured in soft tones.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Dani assured, refraining from sighing.

“Okay,” Eddie said, satisfied. “You should really try to come over tomorrow. We could have a sleepover too, and um — “ his voice trailed off for a moment “ — I miss you.”

Dani grinned softly. “Miss you too.”

By the next morning, Dani woke early, amping herself up with Jamie’s radio on low, set to a Top 100 Pop Hits station, praying for some semblance of bravery. But when she ventured from her room, she found her mother’s bedroom door already open, coffee already made, and her car keys gone. The house empty and eerily silent. She debated with herself for the next half hour. Eating cereal by herself in the kitchen, writing an absentminded note on a spare piece of paper to get milk for the next grocery run, until eventually she was reconnecting the kitchen phone and dialing a number that was written down on a note on the fridge.

It rang four agonizing times until the line clicked open and her mother said, “Hello, Karen Clayton speaking.”

“Mom? It’s me,” Dani murmured, and she swore she could hear a soft sigh from the other end of the line.

“What do you need, Danielle? I’m working.”

“I was - um. I was wondering if I could go over to the O’Mara’s today,” Dani said, her grip tight on the receiver, and hesitantly added, “To sleep over?”

Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “Is that what you called me for? You know how busy I am.”

“I know, I - I just wanted to ask, because — “

“Do whatever you want, Danielle,” Karen said sharply, and the line went dead.

Dani blinked in the quiet of the kitchen, listening to her heart thudding against her ribs and the dial tone until she slowly set the receiver back into the base. It took a minute for the unease to settle, unsure of what to do, unsure if this was some kind of trap. But the promise of finally escaping to the house across the street proved to be more enticing, and she was racing up to her room to pack. Another storm passed, as they were wont to do.

The smile Eddie greeted her with when he opened the door was bright and infectious. He hugged her tight and happily took her bag from her hand, already marching towards the staircase to haul it upstairs. Nearby, Jamie was leaning against the wall and smirking at her as she pulled off her shoes.

“Finally,” Jamie muttered, “He hasn’t shut up about it since last night. Like he hasn’t seen you in weeks and not a few days.”

“Please, like you didn’t miss me too.”

Jamie’s smirk widened. “Not a clue what you’re talking about.”

Carson came abruptly sliding out of the kitchen on his socks, a jar of peanut butter and a butter knife in hand. “Dani!” he said, holding up the jar and knife as though in victory, “It’s Milkshake Monday!”

Even Jamie smiled through the roll of her eyes. Somehow over the course of the summer, jaunts to Big Bill’s Diner for milkshakes and lunch had become custom every Monday. The twins would occasionally accompany them, as they were today, hauling out their bikes along with Jamie’s to ride across town to the ancient grease diner that half the time was populated by truckers passing through. As was usual, they all doubled up. Dani settled behind Jamie, standing on the rear pegs of her bike, resting her hands on Jamie’s steady shoulders while Eddie and Carson followed suit with the twins.

“Ready?” Jamie murmured.

“Good to go,” Dani replied, patting Jamie’s shoulder. “Giddyup.”

“Say that again and I’ll throw you off,” Jamie grumbled as Dani laughed, and took off behind the twins.

Like all Mondays before, they hunkered down in a booth with their milkshakes and lunches of burgers and fries. It all together felt like being able to breathe once more, sitting in between Eddie and Jamie, laughing at the twins’ teasing and Carson’s brain freeze. Jamie slouched low in her seat, quiet more so than usual, but always wearing a small grin every time Dani glanced her way. When she saw an open opportunity to steal a fry from Jamie’s plate, she reached out a hand just for a reaction, and laughed when Jamie slapped it away, grumbling good naturedly but her smile wider than before.

On the other side of her, Eddie slid his plate closer to her. “You can have some of mine,” he said with an eager grin, knocking their shoes together.

Jamie made a noise that sounded both like a scoff and snicker. “Knobhead.”

On the ride back home, Dani soaked up the afternoon sun and wind on her face, standing higher on the back pegs, pressing closer to Jamie’s back.

“You all right back there?” Jamie said as she peddled, mirth in her voice.

“Never better,” Dani replied, her grip tightening on Jamie’s shoulders.

--

Dani woke up squinting in the morning sun, almost expecting to see Jamie propped up on the pillows with a cup of tea in hand and a book in the other the way she had the other day. Instead, she rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty and cold, Jamie long gone for the morning. She was almost disappointed, but then she remembered: this wasn’t Dani’s house, nor was it Jamie’s. They were in Carson’s room where they had accommodated his bed for the night, seeing as it had more room to spare than a camp bed. They had both demurred at the idea, not wanting to take over Carson’s room, but Judy and Carson had insisted.

As quiet as possible, Dani rose from the bed and tiptoed around Carson sleeping soundly on the camp bed where he had sworn they’d stay up all night talking, but almost immediately fell asleep upon his head hitting the pillow. She opened the door to a quiet house. The boys rooms were still tightly shut, a gentle breeze blew through the open window on the landing, morning birds chirping outside, but there also were soft voices and movement down below. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Dani followed the sound downstairs towards the kitchen, and blinked at what greeted her.

Already dressed in her work clothes, Judy was manning the stove where a familiar kettle was heating up, and sitting hunched over at the counter barstool was Jamie, still in her pajamas, her hair disheveled. They both turned at the sound of Dani entering the room.

“Good morning, honey,” Judy said, smiling at her. “What are you doing up so early?”

Dani shrugged. “Just used to it.”

“An early riser like this one then, huh?” Judy said, nodding towards Jamie with an affectionate look. Jamie in response grinned thinly, her cheek resting against her fist. Judy waved Dani towards the barstools. “Go on, take a seat. Jamie’s teaching me how to make real English tea. I’ll get you a cup too.”

When Judy’s back was turned as she delved into the cupboards, Dani arched a brow at Jamie, grinning as she slid onto a stool next to her. Jamie rolled her eyes with a quiet sigh, but said nothing. Unlike last Friday, there was a relaxed slouch to Jamie’s shoulders as she sat at the counter, her legs still and her expression lethargic, but otherwise free of taut lines that so prevailed the previous week.

Dani grinned softly at the sight, and couldn’t help but reach up to smooth away wild flyaways from Jamie’s hair before leaning close to murmur in her ear, “Did you bring tea and your kettle from home?”

Jamie stiffened for a moment, before turning to scowl at her. “Sod off,” she murmured, poking Dani hard in the ribs, grinning when Dani jerked and swiped her hand away.

It was comforting, to quietly sit next to Jamie, still too tired to speak in full sentences as she listened to Jamie uttering soft, patient directions to Judy as she made the three of them tea. At the first sip, Jamie hummed appreciatively to Judy’s delight.

“S’not bad, Mrs. O’Mara. Definitely better than Dani’s,” Jamie said, failing to hide her smirk as Dani huffed.

Judy chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart, I try my best,” Judy said, leaning on her elbows across the counter from them as she took a sip, “Not bad if I do say so myself. I’m going to have to get an actual kettle and real tea set, and then you’re going to have to show me how to make a real brew, as you Brits say.”

Jamie nodded and grinned. “If you like.”

Carson and Mike were the next to make an appearance in the kitchen as Jamie and Dani were in the midst of eating cereal and sharing a bowl of fruits. Mike gently guided a still half-awake Carson across the room before kissing Judy lightly on the cheek and helping himself to some fresh coffee. Carson was still bleary eyed as Judy handed him a bowl.

"Carson," Jamie said. When he glanced up she mimed throwing a grape at him until he opened his mouth and she chucked it across the kitchen in a clear arc. The grape smacked him on the cheek and went plonking down to the floor. Judy gave them both an admonishing look. Jamie grinned sheepishly in response as Dani snickered.

The day seemed to fly by after they’d had their breakfast and Judy and Mike set off to work. A whole house to themselves with nothing to do but to hang out and annoy each other. Dani was positive that Carson wasn’t as absentminded as he appeared as he shook his feet, lounging on the basement couch during a movie, a foot hitting Eddie in the head more than once where he sat on the ground, leaning against the couch. Dani was beside him, having found her spot first before Eddie plopped down next to her, refusing to move throughout Carson’s beatings.

Instead, Eddie leaned his shoulder against hers, his hands twitching as if restless with nerves. When she relaxed her hands on her stretched out legs, his arm inched closer, pressing against hers as he rested his hand oddly on the ground between them, his palm up and hands loose. It was like he was waiting for something. Or someone to grab hold of it. The realization made her roll her eyes, and she reached down to grasp his palm. Out of the corner of her eyes, his shoulders tensed slightly, but a small smile curled up his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose. Dani fondly shook her head as their fingers linked together.

Jamie meanwhile sat in an armchair with Mrs Dalloway in hand, slouching low with a leg slung over an armrest, her foot bouncing lightly. Throughout the movie — some Monty Python picture from the year before — Dani couldn’t help occasionally sneaking glances at her. Her eyes drawn to the way Jamie fiddled with her coin necklace and glowering more so than usual down at the pages as she read, her jaw clenched. A strain had returned to her that Dani couldn’t place beyond the fact that her choleric disposition had made its triumphant return from Friday. But by the time the movie was over, her hand free from Eddie’s grasp as he moved to change the tape, Jamie caught her eyes, her expression relaxed to a faint smile. When Eddie asked Dani what she thought of the movie, she found that she couldn’t remember the plot much at all.

Later, during their fourth round of Uno around the coffee table in the living room that evening, waiting for dinner as Carson helped Judy in the kitchen, Jamie seemed more relaxed but no less ornery in the spirit of competition. When Dani was moments away from putting down another matching card, Jamie looked up from her massive sprawl of cards in one hand with her chin resting on her fist and said, “Skip me again, I dare you.”

Dani raised her eyebrows, and shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “If you say so,” she said, playing a Skip card.

Jamie flung her pile of cards on the table. “For fuck’s sake,” she grumbled as Dani laughed.

“You just ruined the pile!” Eddie groaned, with the fewest cards left in his hand, “We have to start over now.”

“Oh, shut your hole. You already won last round,” Jamie muttered, leaning back on her hands.

“Not my fault you’re just a sore loser,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes as he gathered the cards into a neat stack.

“Keep talking, and see what happens, Ed.”

Dani sighed exasperatedly. “Okay, I think we’re done with Uno.”

“Thank Christ,” Jamie breathed and rose to her feet, marching away towards the stairs. Dani watched her go with another sigh.

“Does she always have to be so grumpy like that?” Eddie asked.

“She’s had a rough couple of days,” she said, frowning at him.

Eddie snorted, and muttered under his breath, “Didn’t seem like it.”

Dani gave him a look that he shied away from. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled, “I’ll go easy on her.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” Dani said softly, and pushed his glasses up his nose.  

He grinned at her, his cheeks tinted pink, and then inhaled sharply, looking down at the cards in his hands. “So, I was thinking tomorrow we could go get some ice cream together or something.”

“Ice cream? Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, “I’ll ask Jamie later.”

Eddie’s grin fell slightly as he looked back up at her. “No, I meant - I meant just the two of us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, and for a brief moment, Dani felt like she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yeah, like a da — “

A loud slam from upstairs shook the house. They both jumped at the sound, eyes wide.

“You fucking -!”

Thunderous footsteps ran across the top floor and down the stairs, stomping with every step. Dani and Eddie rose to their feet to follow the sound in the hallway.

“Get back here, you little shit!”

There was the distinct sound of Jamie’s laughter, wild with adrenaline and panic as she came crashing down the stairs, jumping across the last few steps and nearly collapsing over as she hit the ground.

“What on earth is going on?” Judy called out, appearing from the kitchen with Carson, eyes wide with her hands on her hips.

Jamie didn’t stop, rushing past them all towards the front door, ripping it open to bolt outside barefoot, her flannel and hair flying behind her. One of the twins — undoubtedly David — came thundering down the stairs after her, his face apoplectic and red, racing after her outside and down the street. Dani stepped towards the open door to watch them sprint around the corner and out of sight. Dani pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter as the others stood next to her in the doorway in bewilderment.

David may have been a whole foot taller than Jamie and then some, but Dani had every confidence that she could outrun him, especially with the dirty paperback she spied clutched in Jamie’s hand spurring her on.

“What in the Sam Hill was that all about?” Judy said, her arms crossed.

“No idea,” Dani replied.

Tommy came up behind them, laughing hard as he clutched his sides, and leaned over them to yell, “Told you it wasn’t me!”

--

“What,” said Dani, squinting down at the sheet in front of her, “is a cleric?”

They were sitting on the ground around the coffee table in the O’Mara’s living room. Eddie had claimed the couch as his throne and had surrounded himself with pages and notes, pencils and erasers, little cardboard tokens and a set of three big books, one of which was open and perched on his knees. On the table, he’d spread a large sheet of paper with grid lines drawn in pen.

It was the only vaguely quiet place in the house apart from the basement, which didn’t have a big enough table to fit them. Judy was baking in the kitchen and had shooed them out of the dining room. Meanwhile, Tommy and David were blasting music upstairs in their shared room. Whenever Mike would stand on the stairs and yell for them to turn it down, the twins would comply for exactly thirty seconds before ramping the volume back up again. Even now, Dani could hear a rhythmic thumping bassline through the ceiling.

Eddie pushed up his glasses. “It’s like a cross between a Fighting Man and a Magic User. You can wield non-edged magic weapons and heal people in your party.”

“Non-edged? Why non-edged?” Dani pointed to the couch. “And can you pass me a pillow?”

“Sure. Here.” Eddie tossed her one of the cushions, which she promptly sat upon and crossed her legs. “It’s just in the rules. I’ve also made you guys level three, so Carson can actually do some damage in a fight.”

“Do I get a sword?” Carson asked excitedly, brandishing his pencil as though it were a weapon.

“You’re a Magic User. You can only use a dagger and spells.”

“Nice! Spells!” Carson pointed the pencil at his brother. “I cast: slap you in the face.”

Eddie frowned. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I thought you said you were controlling the monsters, though.”

“You did say that,” Dani agreed.

Rubbing at his forehead, Eddie sighed. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I control the story and the monsters.”

“And I control the magic called: slap you in the face.” For good measure, Carson chucked his pencil at Eddie, who ducked so that the pencil bounced against the back of the couch.

“Watch it!”

Carson made a face at him. “Don’t be such a baby!”

“Yeah, that’s your job,” Dani said with a grin.

“Hey, Jamie,” said Eddie. “Come play with us. We need another person for the party.”

Like some sort of cat, Jamie was seated on the back of the other couch that was pushed up against the wall. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other knee balancing a battered paperback. Every now and then, Jamie would glance furtively over the top of the book towards the windows that showed the front lawn and the street beyond it.

“Don’t want to,” Jamie muttered, scowling back down at the book in her lap.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re not even reading. You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes now.”

In answer, Jamie turned a page.

“C’mon. You can be a Fighting Man.” Eddie held up a character sheet with a bunch of painstakingly pencilled in numbers that he had added earlier that day while Dani watched and chatted with him. “You like fighting.”

Aiming her glower at him, Jamie growled, “Fuck off.”

“Look at that: perfect for the role.”

“Do I get to be evil?” Carson interrupted. “I want to be evil.”

Eddie ignored him. “Danielle, convince her to play with us.”

“She doesn’t want to play, Eddie,” Dani replied.

“Yeah, but she always listens to you.”

“I can hear you,” Jamie snapped.

“If you’re not going to play, why are you even down here?” Eddie asked. “You can always just hang out in Carson’s room if you want to be alone.”

Jerking her thumb towards the ceiling, Jamie said, “You think I can get a moment’s peace with Tweedledee and Tweedledum bangin’ about up there?”

“The basement’s quiet, though,” Carson pointed out.

Dani could see Jamie’s lips purse together, her brows still furrowed and her shoulders tense. Outside, a vehicle trundled down the street and Jamie’s head jerked up to follow it only for her to slouch sullenly once more.

The basement was quiet, but it didn’t have a clear view of the road.

"Let's just -" Dani smiled as broadly as she knew how towards Eddie and Carson "- play. All right? And let’s leave Jamie alone."

Begrudgingly, Eddie picked up a few cardboard tokens and began setting them out on the paper grid map. "Fine. Do you have names for your characters?"

"Uh," Dani glanced down at the sheet again. She couldn't visualize what her character looked like in the slightest. A priest, perhaps. Black robes beneath a set of medieval armour with a patch of white collar showing through. Grimacing, she said, "Dani?"

"You can't have it be your own name."

"Why not?" Carson asked. "Carson the Wizard has a great ring to it."

"Oh, my god," Eddie groaned and rested his forehead on the open pages of his manual. "Can you please take this seriously? Just for two seconds?"

"You want me," said Carson, "to pretend to use magic, and also be serious about it? Are you stupid?"

"Okay. Fine. Fine!" Eddie lifted his head and spread his hands in a sharp gesture. "Your characters are you. Just you with your own names but with powers. Now, can we please play?" When both Dani and Carson nodded, he sighed, "Finally. All right. The two of you are descending into the bowels of a long-forgotten ruin -"

They played. Dani kept forgetting the names of her abilities and how to perform them, but she did her best. She spent most of the time being distracted by the too quiet way Jamie was sitting behind her. More than once Eddie had to call her name to get Dani to stop looking over her shoulder at where Jamie was fiddling with the pages of a book or staring out the window.

"Danielle."

Dani started and turned back around. "Sorry," she said again. "Sorry. I - uh -" Turning over the character sheet, she re-read her list of actions. "I use Turn Undead?"

Eddie mimed an explosion emanating from the little token that denominated her character, pushing aside various other tokens that surrounded it. “With the strength of your conviction and the name of your god’s name upon your lips, you show your holy symbol and the skeletons around you crumble into dust in a blaze of light! All except -” he lowered his voice dramatically, pushing forward one of the tokens, “- for one.”

“Oh, shit,” Carson whispered, eyes wide, utterly rapt.

Without warning, Jamie scrambled from the back of the couch, half falling to the floor and racing to yank open the front door. All three of them — Eddie, Carson, and Dani — jumped in surprise, turning to stare as she ran from the house.

"What's gotten into her?" Eddie muttered.

Craning her neck, Dani pushed herself upright and peered out the window. A familiar truck had pulled up to the curb out front. She couldn't hear what was happening, not over the noise of Tommy and David's music, but she could see Nan pushing open the driver seat door and laboriously stepping out onto the pavement. Jamie was lingering at the other door, its window rolled down so she could lean on her elbows and exchange words with her grandmother.

"Oh! Mrs. Heron's back!" Carson said, abandoning the game of dungeons and dragons in favor of trotting off to the kitchen and hollering, "Mom! Mrs. Heron's back!"

Whatever Judy replied was lost as Dani wandered over to the open front door. She hesitated at the threshold, watching as Jamie's posture rapidly shifted from tense to relieved to tense all over again. Nan glanced up, saw Dani standing there, and gave her a tired looking wave. Dani returned the gesture, but Nan had already turned her attention back to Jamie, murmuring something that made Jamie's head jerk back as though she'd been physically struck.

Behind her, Dani could hear Eddie muttering to himself. She turned to find him cleaning up the coffee table. With a grimace, she returned to the living room to help him. "Sorry," she said as she shuffled together all of the various pieces of paper into a neat stack. "I was having fun. I swear."

"Mmm," said Eddie, sounding unconvinced.

"Do you want to finish the story tomorrow?" Dani asked and she handed over the pages.

Before he could answer, Nan limped through the front door. In one hand she leaned her weight heavily upon the polished wooden cane, but in the other she cradled in the crook of her elbow what appeared to be a bundle of blankets.

"Jesus Christ," Nan winced when she first stepped inside, aiming a sour glance up at the ceiling. "And I thought Louise's house was a racket."

"Hi, Mrs. Heron," said Eddie, packing up the last of the game along with his books. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"Loaded question, that one," Nan replied dryly. "Best answered over a cup of tea, I think."

"I heard the word 'tea.'" Judy emerged from the kitchen. She wore a flour-splattered apron and a smile as broad as it was warm. "Welcome back, Ruth. Long flight?"

With a grunt, Nan corrected her, "Flights. Plural. And I would kill for a half decent cuppa."

"I make no promises about decent, but Jamie’s been teaching me, so it will be tea."

"Ta."

Nan smiled wearily at Judy before she crossed the living room and lowered herself onto the same couch Jamie had been waiting on all day now. She groaned lightly, her movements stiff, treating the bundle of blankets in her arm as though it were a swaddling of gemstones. Outside, the car door slammed shut. Jamie stomped up the walkway towards the house. When she came inside, she paused to wipe her bare feet on the mat.

In puzzlement, Dani glanced between her and Nan. Ever since last night, Jamie had been a cluster of nerves. All short syllables and tense jaw. If anything, she seemed more ill at ease than before.

Carson came back into the living room, greeting Nan cheerfully before he got roped into helping Eddie carry everything back upstairs. Rolling his eyes, Carson nevertheless let his arms be piled up with books. As the two of them went up the stairs, Carson yelled for Tommy and Eddie to turn off the music since they had company. At the noise, Jamie's fists clenched at her sides and Dani could see the way her throat worked when she swallowed.

"You're awfully quiet," Nan said with a nod towards Dani.

"Sorry," said Dani.

Nan rolled her eyes. "I see that good for nothing mother of yours removed some of your spine in my absence. After all my hard work, too." She tutted, shaking her head.

Dani blinked. She opened her mouth to reply, but then the bundle in Nan's arms squirmed. When Nan set aside her cane and began to bounce the bundle up and down in a gentle rocking motion, Dani blurted out, “You have a baby?”

Nan looked at her as though she’d grown an extra head. “Don’t be daft. He’s not mine. Well -” she frowned off into the middle distance. “- As much as she’s mine, I suppose.”

Jamie’s stiff scowl deepened when Nan gestured towards her. When Jamie muttered something acidic under her breath, Nan said waspishly, “Speak up. If you’re going to say something unfortunate, you might as well be loud about it.”

Jaw clenched, Jamie lifted her voice enough to be heard. “I said: I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me that’s why you were going.”

“Wasn’t aware I needed your permission,” Nan drawled. A tiny hand worked its way free of the blanket and grabbed at her chin. Nan leaned her head away with a sigh. “Enough of that, you fussy fannybaws.”

Dani rose up on her toes as surreptitiously as she could in an attempt to get a better look at the baby, but she immediately sank back down to her heels again when Jamie snapped, "What about Denny?"

Nan's expression was hard as flint. "He's eighteen and long gone. Don't waste your breath on the likes of him. Too much like your father, he is."

"And whose fault is that, then?"

Nan glowered and it were as though any vestigial warmth in the room was sucked out of the house. Eyes wide, Dani held her breath, wishing she could sink into the floor. Anything to not be privy to this conversation.

"Now, I've had a long few weeks," Nan said coldly, "And I'm in no mood to tussle with you today. If you're that keen for a smack, we can talk tomorrow after I've had a sleep."

There followed a moment of agonizing silence, in which Dani tried to appear as unassuming and insignificant as possible. She looked at a spot on the floor and remained very still until — without another word — Jamie stormed off down the hallway. Just as she stalked out, she nearly ran into Judy, who was emerging from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand.

"Woah!" Judy swerved to narrowly avoid barrelling straight into seventy pounds of distilled ire. She stared after Jamie and shook her head when there came the crash of a door being slammed. Turning to Dani, she asked, "What on earth did I miss?"

Dani shook her head. Meanwhile from the couch Nan made a noise halfway between disgruntled and exhausted. Judy crossed the room to sit beside her on the couch, and as she handed over one of the mugs her eyes widened. "Oh," she said with dawning realization. Her mouth retained a round drawn out moue, and her eyes moved from Nan, to the baby, to the hallway where Jamie had just stormed off, and back again. "I see." Then she added, "Do you want me to add some whiskey to this?"

With a snort of laughter, Nan took the mug, careful to manoeuvre her hands so she wouldn't spill a drop on the all important parcel in her lap. "Normally I'd say yes, but I need to drive us home later."

"Well, the offer stands. I can drive you and Jamie home," Judy murmured around the lip of her own mug, "And it seems like you need it."

"It's not all that bad."

Judy gave Nan a look.

Nan sighed and took a sip of her tea. "Maybe that bad."

"Your daughter -?" Judy asked, trailing off without finishing the question.

In answer, Nan hummed and though the sound was wordless it carried all the bitterness she could muster. "The one and only."

"Louise, right? And what about -?" Judy made a covert motion with her free hand that Dani did not quite understand.

Nan seemed to get the message however, for she shook her head. "No. Someone else."

"And he's -?"

"Around?" Nan finished for her and then let out a bark of laughter. "No, I daren't say he is.”

Dani fidgeted, and suddenly two sets of adult eyes were upon her. Judy seemed a bit uneasy, clearing her throat and crossing her legs at the ankle.

“Dani,” said Nan. Her voice had softened somewhat, but her expression was unreadable. “Go get Jamie, love.”

With a nod, Dani turned heel and left, grateful for an excuse to depart the room. Behind her Judy and Nan struck up their conversation once more, but their voices were lowered to covert murmurs and Dani did her best not to listen. The music from upstairs had been turned down, and as she passed by she could hear Mike descending the steps and the O'Mara boys bickering in the backdrop. Dani ducked her head and hurried further along.

The hall leading to the garage was empty. Fumbling for the light switch, Dani flicked them on. Dim light flooded the narrow corridor. As she approached the garage, she could hear the sounds of banging, metallic and intermittent and not wholly loud. As though someone were carelessly casting aside tools in search of something else. Slowly, she opened the garage door and poked her head inside.

Jamie was crouched before her partially dismantled bicycle — the one she had scavenged years ago. Her back was to the door and she rummaged through a battered red toolbox that collapsed outward with trays when opened. Jamie tossed down a socket wrench, then picked up another, holding it up to her bike to see if it would match whatever fitting she was hoping to loosen.

Dani shut the door behind her as quietly as she could, but the click seemed to echo through the garage regardless. Items were scattered about on the cut concrete between them. A grease-streaked towel here. Remnants of a woodworking project here. Jamie seemed to take no notice in Dani's presence, though she must have known she was there. Dani's hand lingered on the painted texture of the door, hand bunched up at her back before she pushed herself forward. Jamie's head remained bowed over her work, shoulders hunched, movements sharp. When Dani stood close enough that she could reach out and touch her — could but didn't — she stopped.

"It's nice to have Nan back," Dani ventured.

Jamie hummed in answer but said nothing.

"I missed her," said Dani.

For a moment Jamie's movements stilled. When they started back up again it was with a vengeance, as though Jamie could take out all her frustrations on the old bike frame. "Wish she'd stayed back there," Jamie growled.

"That's not true," Dani said softly.

She could see the way Jamie's ribs expanded against the fabric of her t-shirt with a deeply indrawn breath. Her hand seemed to be trying to throttle the life out of the socket wrench, white-knuckled and tense. Then she began loosening the bolt that held the bike's back wheel in place. "Don't know why she had to go around sticking her nose into other people's business," Jamie said. "Again."

"Is that what you want?" Dani asked. "For her to have left you alone in the first place?"

"Maybe. No. I don't know," Jamie snapped.

She still hadn't looked up from her work, still hadn't so much as glanced in Dani's direction. The bike hardly needed the attention. Over the years she and Mike had spent so much time tinkering over the thing that it might as well have been entirely new but for the base frame. And even that had been given reinforcing and several new coats of paint. It was, Dani understood, never about Jamie really wanting to fix something — a bike, a car, turning a new handle for an old chef's knife. It was just something for Jamie to do with her hands.

Dani slowly placed her hand on the arch of Jamie’s back, feeling the muscles bunch up beneath her palm. “Then what do you want?”

She let her hand slip away, falling back to her side when Jamie answered, “For things to go back to the way they were. No excitement. No yelling. No new baby. Things are going to change because she -” Jamie grunted as she twisted at the socket wrench “- had to go and ruin it.”

“Not all new things are bad,” Dani pointed out, but Jamie wasn’t having any of it.

"I don't want -" Jamie said stubbornly "- another brother. This one's probably only half related to me anyway."

Dani crossed her arms. “Hey, that’s not fair.”

“True though,” Jamie replied with one of those bitter grins of hers.

“He’s just a baby. It’s not like it’s his fault.”

That logic seemed to bounce right off, for Jamie just shrugged and lifted the tire away, setting it down on the ground. "Doesn't matter. Still has consequences, doesn't it? People talk. People always fuckin' talk."

"Nobody cares," Dani said firmly. "Who is going to find out, anyway? He's too young to go to school. We'll have graduated by the time he even learns to use full sentences."

Jamie laughed and it was a breathless, incredulous kind of sound. She shook her head, looking over her shoulder at Dani with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Think Nan's going to be the one taking care of him? 'Cause she's not." Jamie pushed at her knees and rose to her feet. She tapped the socket wrench against her own chest, her hands smudged with streaks of dark grease. "That'll be on my head, soon. Just you wait."

Frowning, Dani held her ground. "She isn't going to just up and leave you alone with a baby, Jamie."

"Yeah. Sure. Right."

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Jamie took a step closer to Dani, but she was pointing towards the garage door with the wrench. "Last time, I was the kid, and mum up and left, and Denny was off doing fuckall, and dad was too busy in the mines to remember he still had kids! And then she -!" Jamie stabbed the wrench towards the door again as if brandishing a weapon, "- comes 'round like she's saving the fuckin' day! And I’ll be the one left holding the can! Again!”

It took a moment for Dani to find her voice, to put together the pieces of what Jamie had revealed — glimpses of a past that she normally held so close to her chest like a fan of cards now tilted just slightly, just enough to peek — to say, “You won’t.”

If anything Jamie seemed puzzled by this response. Her brows furrowed and she blinked. “What -?”

“You won’t,” Dani repeated. “Because you’re not there anymore. You’re here.”  

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but no noise came out. Her hands were fists but the lines of her face softened somewhat. As much with bewilderment as anything else. As though Dani had tripped her along the war path. As though the wind had been directed right out of her sails.

"You're here," Dani repeated, voice softer now. She reached out to touch Jamie's wrist, curling her fingers around a notch of bone leading to her hand. "And Nan isn't going anywhere. And neither are you."

"You don't know that," Jamie breathed.

Dani's hand drifted down until her finger grazed the handle of the socket wrench. She gently urged Jamie's grip to slacken until she could take the wrench and set it down. "Maybe not," Dani said. "But you have today. Focus on today. Not tomorrow. One day at a time."

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded. Dani waited, but Jamie simply stood there, silent and uncertain. Two weeks ago, Dani might have asked if Jamie wanted her to leave, if Jamie wanted to be alone, but now she took Jamie by the hand and tugged her softly towards the door leading back into the main house. Jamie's fingers still held a slight tremor; she allowed herself to be led along. When Dani took the first left as they entered the hallway, Jamie's brow furrowed.

"Where are we -?" she asked as Dani pushed open the door leading to the downstairs bathroom.

Dani switched on the sink tap, setting the water to warm. "Need to wash your hands."

For some reason, Jamie must have thought that was funny for she laughed, a short, breathy sound.

She could have easily washed her hands herself, but she let Dani urge her hands beneath the warm steady stream, let Dani lather a bar of soap between their sets of hands. Streaks of grime were swept down the drain. Dani hardly noticed how close they were standing — their sides jammed together, their knees knocking together — focusing instead on letting the water stream over their wrists and knuckles, focusing instead on twisting the tap shut and drying Jamie's hands with a towel. She half expected Jamie to pull away, to laugh and say she could do this herself, but Jamie didn't. And when Dani glanced up, hanging the towel back on its hook, Jamie was watching her with that blank expression of two weeks ago. As though Dani had happened upon her in a dream.

"You okay?" Dani asked. She wiped any residual water from her own hands upon the front of her shirt.

Jamie nodded, but her smile appeared forced. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Dani searched her gaze, but Jamie’s eyes were steady and unblinking. She was about to ask again, insist even — ‘Tell me. Don’t hide from me’ — but then Jamie was straightening her shoulders and walking back into the hallway. For a moment Dani hesitated, gripping the front of her own shirt, before she trailed after her down the corridor and back into the living room.

Nan and Judy were sitting on the far couch pushed up against the wall, while Mike had taken one of the armchairs nearest his wife. Empty cups of tea were littered across coasters on the coffee table. The adult’s conversation paused when she and Jamie walked into the room, but resumed once again when it was apparent that Jamie was only moving to sit on the other empty couch. Jamie dropped down onto the cushions, feet splaying out and arms crossing, but she was here.

Dani shot Nan a questioning look, and Nan gave her a slight nod as thanks. The pleasure at having done something right buzzed straight down Dani’s spine — a heady mix of elation and relief — and she took a seat beside Jamie.

“Go on, then,” Nan held out the baby to Jamie. “Take him.”

Looking horrified, Jamie leaned away. “I don’t want -”

“Jamie Katherine Taylor, if you think I won’t scalp your arse in front of all these people, you’re dead wrong. Now, take him.”

At the sound of her full name being used, Jamie’s face went an ugly shade of red and splotchy all over. It was only the second time Dani had ever heard Nan use Jamie’s full name before, and the first time had similar effects. Jamie’s throat worked and slowly her face lost its flush of anger, and finally she rose from her seat, reached out and let Nan place the baby in her arms. Then, she slouched back against the couch beside Dani, keeping her eyes sullenly on the squirming bundle in her lap. Dani’s hand crept over as surreptitiously as she could manage and she simply rested it against Jamie’s leg, hoping that it might be a comforting weight. And gradually the tension in Jamie’s shoulders eased.

After a moment of awkward silence, Judy remarked, “Katherine’s a lovely name.”

Jamie shot her a look that should have left Judy maimed on the floor, but she said nothing.

“Not my first choice,” said Nan, settling herself back against the opposite couch and rubbing at the dark circles beneath her eyes. “But Louise was insistent.”

“And is Jamie short for anything?” Judy asked.

Jamie shook her head at the same time Nan said, “No. Just Jamie. After my brother.”

Leaning over to get a better look at the baby in Jamie’s arms, Judy said, “Well, we’re going to have to think of a nickname for this one, anyway. ‘Mike’ is already taken.”

On the sidelines, Mike smiled apologetically and shrugged.

Under her breath Jamie muttered, “Can just call him ‘Bawbag’ and be done with it.”

Nan smacked Jamie’s ankles with her cane.

“Ow!” Jamie hissed, jerking her foot away and glowering at her grandmother.

“Be nice to your brother.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. Her knee bounced up and down — as it always did when she sat still for too long — and the baby grabbed at her hair with greedy hands. With a wince, Jamie stopped jiggling her knee and bowed her head down. “Fuck’s sake. You too?” she muttered under her breath, low enough that Dani was the only one who could hear. “Let go.”

Reaching over, Dani helped pry apart surprisingly strong little fingers from around Jamie’s hair. Every time it seemed they managed to get him to let go, his other hand would grab at her again. Eventually Dani let him grasp at her individual fingers instead, and Jamie was finally free.

“What about ‘Mac’?” Judy said. “That’s a Scottish thing, isn’t it?”

Nan made a face like she’d bitten into a lemon. “That’s even worse than just ‘Michael.’”

“Well, what’s wrong with plain old ‘Michael’?”

“Everything,” said both Nan and Jamie in unison.

“Hey, now,” said Mike, wounded.

As they lobbed nickname ideas back and forth, Dani leaned her shoulder against Jamie’s to look down into her arms, where the baby was squirming against the restraints of his blanket. He had a red and scrunched up face and a shock of dark hair cowlicked to his head. Dani tried to tuck his arms back into the blanket, but he wormed his way free despite her best efforts. When his eyes weren’t closed, he blinked as though against a bright light, turning his face in an attempt to hide from it, but the moment Dani covered his face with the blanket he pushed at the fabric in a fit of fledgling pique.

“You really are fussy,” Dani murmured, but she smiled and tugged the blanket down over his face again, biting back a snort of laughter when he pushed against her hand with a wordless whine of complaint. Without glancing up Dani said, “What about ‘Mikey’?”

The conversation died down and everyone turned to look at her. Dani blinked up at them, still half bowed over Jamie’s lap so that their shoulders were pressed up together. The baby had grabbed hold of her hand between both of his now and was see-sawing her fingers back and forth. She kept her wrist loose and gave him free rein.

Her suggestion lingered in the air as they all mulled over the name. Judy tilted her head slowly back and forth as if weighing between options. Jamie’s frown had vanished. And Nan was contemplatively stroking the polished head of her cane, lips pursed in thought.

“The least worst option I’ve heard,” Nan said finally.

“Better than ‘Mac’ anyway,” said Jamie. “Or Michael.”

“Oh, aye.” With a sigh, Nan sat back and waved towards Dani. “Mikey it is, then.”

--

With the arrival of Mikey, summer began to wane at what felt like an increasingly steady state. Dani spent the time jumping from house to house to house, carrying her polaroid camera everywhere she went, not wanting to miss a thing. Not when it felt like they were all on the precipice of jumping into the unknown, the gilded halls of high school hot on their heels.

Those last few weeks were spent glued to Jamie and the boy’s sides, avoiding home as much as possible. Days were spent finally learning how to drive with the help of Mike, white knuckled around the steering wheel of his car while being egged on and teased with Jamie and Eddie sitting in the backseat, and doing much of the same when one of the others were in the driver’s seat. Dinners were spent around the O’Mara’s dining table and evenings huddled around the coffee table playing Eddie’s dungeons and dragons game — Jamie had finally been roped into playing as a Fighting Man with an uneasy amount of bloodlust and mischief in her eyes. There were also the occasional sleepover nights spent in the O’Mara’s backyard under the dark sky telling scary stories with Jamie terrifying them into sleepless nights over ghost stories from England.

And then there were days spent at the railway cottage. When Jamie insisted on spending as much time as possible away from the house, sprinting the days until the porchlight flickered twice as Nan called them home. They spent their time walking along the railway tracks, biking past endless corn fields in the evening sun, and chasing after summer storms, watching darkened swirling clouds that almost seemed to glow as they passed over corn fields.

The one day they got caught up in the edges of a storm, getting soaked to the bone by the flash of rain, Jamie had laughed and said, “Is this really what storm chasers do?”

“What do you think, idiot?” Dani had said over the crash of distant thunder and wind.

“Think I’ve got a knack for it,” Jamie replied, hands on her hips as she stared at the vortex of clouds, “Reckon we’ll finally see a tornado this year?”

Dani rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt before she dragged Jamie back home to the cottage where they spent the next few days shivering fiercely to the sound of Nan’s scolding.

For the times when Nan put her cane down so to speak, they were at home helping watch Mikey. Jamie still hadn’t truly taken to him, her mouth twisting with distaste for every lesson learned on feeding him to bathing him to changing his diapers, but she never spoke another word of disdain. At least, not in front of Nan. Her grumbling of sleepless nights due to Mikey’s growing teeth pains were reserved for Dani only. Though there were days where Dani would find the pair of siblings in the midst of a staring contest as Jamie fed him, as though they were having a silent conversation. Dani was sure to capture the moment the second she could with her polaroid.

Dani on the other hand was enamored. Helpless to big brown eyes that stared unblinkingly up at her, his wordless baby babble and bright laughter when she tickled his sides, his hands grasping at anything to hold as they wriggled around determinedly. Dani and Jamie learned very early on to keep their hair tied back whenever he was in a grabbing mood. The first time Dani managed to rock him to sleep, she was so surprised that she nearly didn’t want to hand him off to Nan to put him down in the crib she had gotten secondhand from Judy.

The boys meanwhile were in the state between being terrified of even sneezing near Mikey and utterly fascinated to be in the presence of a baby for the first time since Carson had been born. Carson himself nearly vibrated out of his seams of having a baby to introduce so many new things to, and specifically with the relief of not being the youngest anymore. Eddie in particular was near bugeyed the first time he held him, frozen solid to the couch in fear of being flayed alive by Nan as though with one sudden movement Mikey would go flying from his arms.

It was a summer Dani would be hard pressed to forget, but eventually it eased to a close and by mid-August, high school came calling. None of them were eager or thrilled for the start of the new school year, especially one in an unfamiliar environment, particularly Carson who would be the only one left in middle school. His mood became morose the closer the day came, quiet and ill tempered that even Dani wasn’t sure what to say beyond the fact that nothing outside of school was going to change. Not even Eddie knew what to say or even felt the need to say anything at all, but to reassure Dani with a roll of his eyes that Carson would be all right eventually.

The only thing that seemed to ease the tension from Carson’s shoulders was the day before school was to start when Jamie took him aside by the shoulders at the river, walking him a few feet away and talking in soft tones that Dani couldn’t hear. She watched them with a fond soft smile until they eventually returned, Carson sitting heavily next to Dani with a sigh and swiping away Jamie’s hand with a faint scowl when she ruffled his hair with a smirk.

Later, when Dani asked her what she’d said to him, Jamie only smiled faintly and shrugged, murmuring, “What I wished someone told me, I guess.”

Jamie didn’t elaborate, and Dani didn’t feel the need to ask, grasping Jamie’s hand with a grin.

The first day of high school felt like walking into a strange new land. Unfamiliar hallways and unfamiliar faces of upperclassmen. Tommy and David left them in the dust the moment they stepped foot on campus with mocking grins and calls of good luck.

“Some help they were,” Eddie muttered with a scowl, his knuckles white against the strap of his satchel as his eyes darted around nervously.

Jamie snorted. “Did you really think they weren’t gonna be dickheads about it?”

“Well - I -”

While Eddie floundered for a response, Jamie rolled her eyes and led them inside.

By the end of the day, Dani could proudly say that she’d only gotten lost twice, and hadn’t verged on some sort of internal meltdown when she ended up only sharing homeroom class with Eddie. For years, eight hours a day, five times a week, she’d had both Eddie and Jamie by her side during school. Being a freshman alone was already nerve wracking with the way upperclassmen would sneer at them in hallways, but this all together felt sacrilegious to Dani’s routine. Jamie had only huffed and shrugged helplessly before darting to her own class as Eddie led her away by the hand.

It was easier as the week went on. Learning all her teachers' names, discovering she shared most if not all classes with Jamie and Eddie in some form or another. By Friday, she had memorized hallways and the locations of the nearest bathrooms, and learned that North Liberty High took its extracurriculars seriously, for being as few as they were. During lunch after her lone AP English class she had by herself, the main hall leading towards the lunch room was lined with small booths displaying various sports and extracurriculars to sign up for. Dani lingered near a few, biting her lip in consideration as she held her books close to her chest.

There weren't many she was particularly interested in, though she knew her mom expected her to thoroughly fill her schedule and future resume for university. Volunteering for some kind of charity or community work had been one thing she’d been considering, along with tutoring and student council. When she neared the booth for cheerleading, her shoulders tensed and her stomach tightened, her eyes landing on a group of girls hovering around the booth already in their uniforms in the school’s colors of blue and white. Swallowing hard, Dani ducked her head to avoid eye contact and sped past them, hearing their ring of soft laughter and conversation as she went.

In the end, Dani ended up picking up pamphlets for the clubs she was vaguely interested in, along with a Young Democrats of America and Model UN pamphlets for Eddie, and after much deliberation, cross country and track and field pamphlets for Jamie. Just as she was about to pull open a door dividing the different wings of the school, it was opened for her and she looked up to see Roger smiling thinly at her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled and walked past him. She only made a few steps down the hall when she realized he was following close by. It wasn’t really anything untoward. They shared the same AP English class much to her surprise, and there was only one way from class towards her locker and the lunchroom and it was down the same hallway they walked now.

“Um, hey,” he said, stepping next to her, his thin frame slouched and swallowed up in his oversized flannel, his hands buried in his jean pockets.

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. “Hi,” she replied with the rising awareness that this was already the most they’ve spoken in years.

“Never realized how ambitious you were,” he said, offering her a faint grin.

“Sorry?”

He gestured towards the pile of pamphlets in her hand. “You just - you have a lot you seem interested in.”

“Oh - um. No, some of them are for my friends,” she murmured, pulling her books and papers closer to her chest, not looking at him.

“Right. Eddie and Jamie.”

“Yeah.”

He was silent for an awkward moment as they walked. “What clubs are they interested in?”

“Um, Eddie’s been getting really into foreign affairs recently, and Jamie’s really good at running so I got them some politics and track stuff."

“Cool. And - uh - what about you?”

This was by far the strangest conversation Dani’d had in forever. “Volunteering. Student council. You know, the boring stuff no one really cares about.”

“Right,” he said, chuckling.

She floundered for a moment before asking, “And you?”

“Track, maybe,” he muttered with a shrug. Dani gave him a puzzled frown, knowing very well he was nearly as bad as Dani was at running. Before she could question it further, he scratched the back of his shaggy brown hair with a sheepish expression, “My dad wants me to join a bunch of stuff like yours, but I...I kinda hate it.”

“My mom too, actually,” she said, and they both shared a commiserating look.

They were silent again for another painful second when, without warning, Roger asked, “Are you going to Homecoming?”

Dani froze, jerking to a stop to blink up at him. “What?”

He seemed abruptly and unusually shy as he stopped next to her, his cheeks pink as he slouched further into the bunch of his shoulders. “I mean - I’m not - ” he started, and exhaled sharply, “I just mean it’s our first for high school, right? I just wanted to know if you were planning on going.”

Dani blinked up at him, lost for words. She was nowhere even in the realm of thinking about Homecoming, much less planning on attending it, not when it was still over a month away, but the way Roger was shuffling his weight from foot to foot sent a shock of anxiety down her spine to her heart, jumpstarting it into a pounding rhythm.

“Are you -? I mean - Is this -?” Dani gestured between the two of them.

His eyes widened. “Oh — no, I’ve been thinking about going, and thought — I guess I thought it’d be cool if I knew someone nice was going, too,” he said, shrugging helplessly, “No one really talks to me besides Sterling and Jackie, and well - you know how they are.”

“Oh,” she murmured, and swallowed hard, shrugging. “Yeah, um - I might go. I don’t know.”

Roger nodded as they continued walking, scratching again at the back of his head, his cheeks turning near scarlet as he asked, “Do you think Jamie would go?”

“Um,” Dani murmured, and tried to picture Jamie in a dress under cheap dance lights, looking absolutely miserable, and had to refrain from laughing incredulously at the image. “I’m not sure.”

His shoulders slumped, looking oddly dejected as he sighed. “Right,” he murmured, and then slowly paused, frowning as his eyes zeroed on something down the hall.

Dani followed his line of sight to see Jamie’s familiar form hunched over in front of Dani’s locker, the lines of her back coiled tight and unmoving. Sterling and Jackie hovered next to her, both wearing wry smirks. Huffing loudly, Dani marched over with a scowl until she was close enough to hear the tailend of Sterling’s remark.

“ — don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a couple of bucks.”

“Aren’t you forgetting that she can barely afford new clothes in the first place?” Jackie said with a cruel smirk, somehow already wearing a cheerleaders uniform, her hair pulled into a bouncy ponytail.

Clenching her teeth, Dani pushed her way in front of Jamie to face Jackie and Sterling, forcing her mouth into a thin smile. “Hi,” she said, an air of faux civility and sweetness to her voice, “Is there something you two needed?”

Neither of them seemed truly surprised to see her. Jackie rolled her eyes and said, “This act is getting a little old now, don’t you think?”

“I could say the same thing,” Dani said, nodding agreeably, her eyes sharp on them both. “Now, are you done? Or can we help you with something?”

Sterling shrugged. “Was just asking Taylor to borrow some cash for lunch,” he said, as though his family wasn’t one of the wealthiest in town, “Promised to pay her back, but she had to start kicking up a fuss about it — ”

“Ever stop to think about how she might have a good reason why?” Dani interrupted with a pointed glare, acutely aware that Jamie hadn’t so much as moved an inch and breathed a word behind her.

Expression darkening, Sterling took a step forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Jackie snorted. “Look at you, Clayton. Knight in shining armor,” she drawled, smirking as she crossed her arms and tilted her head at a mocking angle, “Your mom know you’re still playing babysitter to this loser? Or has she finally started regretting you being born yet?”

Dani’s knuckles went white around her books, her teeth clenched painfully tight as she felt her face and ears go red hot. A growl and metal clanging on metal sounded behind her. Before Dani could react to stop whatever violent reaction that was brewing from Jamie behind her, Roger’s tall frame stepped beside her.

“Hey, what are you guys still doing here?” Roger said, frowning at Sterling and Jackie, “We’re gonna be late for the lunch line.”

Dani blinked up at him, her jaw still wired tight, her breath shallow.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Sterling leaned heavily against the lockers and gestured towards Dani and Jamie. “I’m just trying to get some cash for extra, man.”

“By stealing it from us?” Dani grumbled.

“To borrow,” Jackie amended in an acerbic bite.

Dani raised her eyebrows and gave her a caustic smile. “I’m sure,” Dani said dryly, “Just like all the other times you borrowed our lunch money, right?”

Arching an eyebrow, Jackie looked to Roger. “Roger? Are you going to help us or what?”

Roger seemed to freeze in place, blinking down at Jackie and Sterling with a frown. Dani swallowed hard, any inkling of irate feeling sinking down the drain to be replaced with unease. Roger’s gaze darted towards Dani’s, holding it for a moment before flickering over her shoulder to Jamie, and to her surprise, she found a pool of shame dimming his eyes, his cheeks pink. He ducked his head briefly before pulling up straight to his full height, his shoulders pressed back and his expression hardened, looking very much like the same angry, violent boy he used to be. But instead of aiming it towards Dani and Jamie, he was looking directly at Sterling and Jackie.

“No,” Roger said, “I’m not.”

Jackie scoffed, wearing an incredulous smile. “Excuse me?”

“They’re not giving you any money. You’re wasting your time,” Roger replied, and crossing his arms, he added, “And mine.”

“Don’t be like that, man,” Sterling said, “I just need an extra five bucks or whatever.”

“If you want to clean out the schools stash of snacks that bad to resell later, then I’ll fucking buy it for you,” Roger said impatiently, “Now, can we go?”

Jackie rolled her eyes again. “Fine.”

Pushing off the lockers, Sterling grumbled something under his breath that only Jackie and Roger seemed to hear. Jackie snickered as Roger huffed, grabbing Sterling by the shoulders to frog march him firmly away. The trio left without another word, leaving Dani and Jamie to stare off after them as though the last five minutes never happened. Just as Dani was about to turn to check on Jamie, Roger glanced over his shoulder and gave Dani a faint apologetic grimace before disappearing around the corner. She blinked after him, blindsided once again.

Dani shook her head and spun around to face Jamie, eyes darting over her with a concerned frown, but Jamie wasn’t even paying her attention. She was hunched over the padlock that kept Dani’s locker securely shut, spinning the dial with jerky, agitated movements, her shoulders coiled taut, the muscles of her jaw sharp, and her brow darkly furrowed.

“Are you okay?” Dani asked, her hands twitching to reach out and grasp Jamie’s arm.

“What’s your bloody combination again?” Jamie muttered, pulling roughly on the lock, growling when it didn’t open, “Keep fuckin’ forgetting.”

Dani slowly wrapped a hand around Jamie’s wrist, and immediately Jamie’s hands went still and her shoulders slumped. With a sigh, Jamie eased aside and let Dani handle the combination.

“I’ll write it down for you later,” Dani murmured, pulling open the lock and swinging the locker open to shuffle around her various textbooks.

“Sure,” Jamie muttered, leaning her shoulder against the lockers. Dani caught her gaze and they exchanged small grins, but a faint hint of worry clouded Jamie’s eyes, “You all right? What Jackie said — Christ, I know she’s a cunt, but that was — ”

Dani huffed out a soft laugh. “Nothing I haven’t really heard from her before,” Dani said, shrugging when Jamie gave her a look. “Roger was unexpected though.”

Jamie snorted. “Sure.”

“Honestly kind of surprised you didn’t blow up at them this time.”

“Wanted to,” Jamie said darkly, glowering at the floor, “If you hadn’t shown up - or even bloody Roger - it wouldn’t have been pretty, believe me.”

Dani smiled softly at her. Ever since the brawl from two years ago, Jamie had been on a lengthy streak of good behavior at school, intent on keeping her promise of no more fighting to Nan this time. A surge of pride rushed through Dani, even as she watched Jamie shove her own books into Dani’s locker.

“You realize you have your own locker, right?”

“Yours is closest to the side entrance.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you had a super special entrance to sneak in and out of it.”

“Excuse you, I have done nothing of the sort.”

“Yet.”

Grinning cheekily, Jamie winked. At Dani’s laugh, she chuckled with a pleased smile. “Hey, you want to come over after school? Got something to show you at home.”

“Oh? Is it a surprise?”

Jamie shrugged. “Something like that.”

Grinning, Dani gestured to the bag she had shoved earlier this morning into her locker. “Good thing I packed, then.”

Peeking inside, Jamie nodded with an impressed grin. “Thought ahead, have you? Girl after my own heart.”

Dani snorted. “Shut up.”

At that moment, Eddie marched up beside them. “Hey, there you guys are. We’re late for lunch.”

Jamie sighed. “Why’s everyone banging on about lunch today. Jesus.”

Eddie shot her a puzzled frown. “Because I’m hungry?”

With a conceding hum, Jamie nodded. “Fair point,” she said, and dug into her jean pockets for change, “I’m making a run to the corner store, you lot want anything?”

“Beef Jerky,” Eddie immediately answered.

“Can I come?” Dani asked in lieu of an answer.

Jamie shot her a teasing grin. “You going deaf now, too? I said ‘run’ to the store.” Rolling her eyes, Dani shoved her lightly into the lockers. Jamie laughed goodnaturedly. “All right, crisps and Toastettes it is.”

--

At the end of the day, while waiting for Jamie to unlock the chains securing her bike, Eddie gestured to the bag Dani had slung over her shoulder. “Are you going to Jamie’s again?”

At Dani’s nod, Eddie failed to conceal the disappointed slump of his shoulders and his frown. Guilt swirled in Dani’s stomach, knowing she hadn’t spent as much time as usual with Eddie since Mikey arrived, too enamoured and eager to help Nan and Jamie.

When Eddie didn’t say anything more, Dani dug in her bag and pulled out the two flyers she had gotten for him. “I got these for you though,” she said, holding them out to him, “I know you already had your sights on baseball and tennis, but I wasn’t sure if you saw these.”

Eddie’s expression softened as he took them and looked them over. “You remembered,” he murmured, looking up at her, his smile bordering between fond and awed.

Beside them, Jamie snorted. “Hard not too with the way you’ve been going on about the election and this Carter fellow.”

Pressing his mouth together, Eddie gave Jamie a look that she smirked at. He shook his head and turned back to Dani. “Thanks, Danielle,” he murmured, and then paused, his eyes darting between her own, frowning in the same way he usually did when trying to solve a complicated math equation. And then, without warning, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

With the way her cheeks burned, Dani was sure she was just as red as Eddie as he quickly recoiled away, his eyes slightly wide. He roughly cleared his throat and began to stumble backwards, somewhat dazed.

“Talk to you guys later,” he said with a weak wave of his hand, and without waiting for a response, he spun around and speed walked away off campus down the block.

Dani was still blinking wide eyed after him when Jamie whistled low beside her. “Dunno about you, but that was like watching a car wreck in slow motion.” Huffing, Dani elbowed her hard in the ribs. Jamie grunted, jerking away into her bike, grumbling, “All right, you can just walk home, then.”

“Don’t,” Dani said, biting back an embarrassed laugh, “He was just being sweet.”

“Oh, he’s sweet on you, all right,” Jamie muttered as she hopped on her bike, and before Dani could even begin to process that, Jamie gestured behind her, “Hop on, we don’t have all day.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dani did as she was told. Patting Jamie’s shoulder when she was settled, Jamie promptly took off down the street in the direction towards the railway bungalow. On the way, they stopped to pick up takeout from Big Bill’s and about twenty minutes later of biking through suburbs and past fields of grass and corn, they reached Jamie’s home. She peddled them directly towards the back of the house where they hopped off, leaving the bike resting against the side of the house.

“Okay, where’s my surprise?” Dani asked, eyes darting around.

Chuckling, Jamie waved her over. “This way.”

Leaving her bag resting on the grass, Dani followed Jamie as she led her towards the trellis’ that bordered along the length of the house beneath the porch. It was a beloved spot of Nan’s to grow flowers, but this year she had bestowed Jamie the gift of trying her hand of growing her own from seed to colorful blossom. Despite the years Jamie spent helping Nan in the garden, working as her assistant for the more strenuous work of digging soil and ripping out weeds, Jamie had never gone without Nan’s guiding hand. For the longest time, Jamie had operated under the belief that Nan didn’t trust her to not kill her prized vegetable plots or flowerbeds, but this year had been a surprising change.

Every day since spring, Jamie had tended to her patch of flowers with more care and patience than what Dani was used to seeing, and when Dani neared the trellis, she knew the effort had been worth it. She gasped softly at what once had just been creeping vines and vibrant, heart-shaped green leaves was now bursting with an abundance of bright blue flowers in the shape of trumpets.

“Jamie,” she breathed, stepping closer, eyes wide in awe, “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie murmured, hands deep in her pockets, appearing unusually shy, “Took their sweet time to bloom, but here they are: morning glories.”

Dani slowly reached out a hand to gently run her thumb across a blue petal, the texture smooth to the touch. “Jamie, this is amazing,” Dani said, smiling wide at her, “I’m so proud of you.”

A pink tint creeped across Jamie’s cheeks, and she ducked her head to hide it. “Thanks, Poppins,” she murmured with a shrug, “Just a bit of flowers.”

“Your first,” Dani said, her smile fond. “You should be proud.”

“Guess so,” Jamie said, finally looking up, grinning shyly at Dani.  

And just then, the back door swung open to reveal Nan with Mikey in her arms. “There you two are,” she said, and tisked when Mikey began to wiggle at the sight of them, “You daft numpty, d’you want to break your skull?”

With an exasperated sigh that only Dani could hear, Jamie bounded up the porch steps to take Mikey from Nan’s arms. “All right, quit your fussing about,” she said over his wordless whines until he settled comfortably against her shoulder, grasping at her necklace.

Nan harrumphed. “Made for each other, the both of you,” Nan said, shaking her head, “Been giving me trouble all day.”

As Jamie visibly struggled to refrain from scowling, a tight pinch at the corners of her mouth, Dani grabbed her bag and started towards them, smiling warmly at Mikey. “That doesn’t sound right, he’s an angel,” Dani said, lightly grasping his free hand for him to hold and swing around.

Jamie snorted. “Only when you’re around,” she said, gently pulling the chain from his hands just as he was about to pull it into his mouth, “Think he likes you more than he likes us.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Dani said, giving her a look, but when Mikey began to lean out of Jamie’s arms to reach toward Dani, Jamie arched an eyebrow at her. She breathed out a small embarrassed laugh and let Jamie take her bag for Mikey to reach his way over into her arms. She smiled warmly at him and kissed his cheek, “Hey, sweet thing.”

His response was to stare blankly at her, raising an inquisitive hand towards her face, his fingers poking at her jaw and cheek. She pulled his hand away where he then rested his head against her shoulder to gnaw at her shirt.

Jamie chuckled, and said to Nan, “See what I mean? Think we just leave him with her and call it a day?”

Nan glared witheringly at her. “You best watch yourself. I’ve had enough of your cheek to last me a bleeding lifetime,” she said, and turned to enter the house.

“Doesn’t bloody know how to take a joke,” Jamie grumbled under her breath, watching Nan go.

“She just needs some food,” Dani said with a teasing grin, “Isn’t that the way to a Taylor’s heart? Food and a nap?”

“She’s a Heron,” Jamie muttered, “Don’t think they have hearts.”

Dani gave Jamie an admonishing look and kicked at her shoe before following Nan inside. Slightly abashed, Jamie huffed behind her as they chucked off their shoes.

“We brought you food from Big Bill’s,” Dani said to Nan in the kitchen where she was at the sink cleaning a feeding bottle.

“Still trying to butter me up, I see,” Nan said without glancing her way, faint amusement in her tone.

“It was Jamie’s idea.”

Nan paused at that, silently arching an eyebrow at her. “That right?”

Jamie muttered something under her breath behind her, but nonetheless pulled the brown takeout bag from Dani’s bag where it was keeping warm and dropped it on the kitchen table that wobbled under the sudden shift of weight. Without looking at either of them, she pulled out a container from the takeout bag and left it on the table.

“Steak and potatoes,” Jamie murmured, and without another word, she marched back outside with both bags in hand.

At the sink, Nan pressed a hand to her hip and shook her head. “That bloody girl,” she said, voice free of her normal cross disposition, sounding more nonplussed than Dani’s ever heard her.

Dani offered her a faint smile, shifting Mikey more comfortably in her arms. Nan sighed and waved her off. Dani left her with one last smile and returned to the backyard to find that Jamie had spread out a blanket in the grass for an impromptu picnic, already in the midst of wolfing down her burger and fries. Dani plopped down next to her and let Mikey roam free on the blanket as she unwrapped her own burger. They ate silently together, listening to the soft breeze blowing through the trees and tall grass in the fields surrounding the property. Jamie finished before her, as she usually did, balling up her empty wrapper and used napkins back in the bag before lying down with her head perpendicular to Dani's crossed legs.

“That’s not good for you, you know?” Dani said in between bites, “Lying down after eating.”

Jamie waved her off, her eyes closed. “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it later.”

Dani smiled fondly down at her, making sure to keep an eye on Mikey as he wobbled and rolled on his stomach and sides. When she finished eating and cleaned up, she reached inside her overnight bag and pulled out Jamie’s pamphlets.

“I got these for you,” Dani said, resting them on Jamie’s chest.

Jamie peaked her eyes open, picking up the flyers to look them over, and grinned wryly. “Thought you’d forgotten about me with these.”

Though there was no bite to the words, Dani still frowned at her. “I wouldn’t forget you.”

Jamie chuckled softly. “I know,” she said, and waggled the flyers in Dani’s direction, “But you’re forgetting track starts in spring.”

“But there’s cross country in the fall,” Dani said, pulling down the track and field flyer to reveal the cross country one beneath.

“Cross country is a whole other animal.”

Absentmindedly grasping at strands of Jamie’s hair and starting to braid it, Dani said, “Mr. Roberts did say you were the best runner he’s seen in years. Don’t you remember him saying something weird once about you having fast feet to make up for your height?”

Jamie swatted at Dani’s leg. “Shut it,” Jamie grumbled as Dani laughed, “Besides, Roberts also once said I was the bane to his existence, so y’know, pinch of salt.”

“At least think about it? I just - I know you’d be really good at it,” Dani said.

Catching her eyes, a lingering tension around Jamie’s eyes softened and she slowly smiled, “Fine,” she said, “I’ll think about it.”

With a pleased, wide smile, Dani affectionately and gently tugged on the braid she’d been working on. Jamie’s head followed the movement and she sighed goodnaturedly, swiping away Dani’s hand.

“What about you, Miss Overachiever?” Jamie asked, “Still thinking of joining those mad amounts of clubs you mentioned.”

“Probably,” Dani shrugged noncommittally with a small frown, tearing her eyes from Jamie briefly to watch Mikey who had somehow managed to crawl near the edge of the blanket, trying not to think about the one club she didn’t stop to contemplate, “Not all of them, though.”

They were silent for a moment, until Jamie nudged her in the leg. “Hey,” she murmured, drawing Dani’s eyes back to her, “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“Your ‘thinking too hard’ face.”

Dani didn’t respond for a long moment, until she softly said, “Mom wants me to join the cheerleading squad.”

Blinking up at her, eyes wide, Jamie said, “She does remember you’ve got lungs like a dried grape, right?”

“Who do you think buys my inhaler prescriptions?” Dani laughed, then sobered, “I just - she was one when she was in high school. I guess she just - she wants the tradition to pass on.”

Jamie went quiet again, wearing a considering frown. “Well, she’s shit out of luck,” she said finally, “As intriguing as the sight of you in a cheerleader uniform is, I don’t need you dropping dead on me from an unfortunate and avoidable asthma attack.”

With a roll of her eyes, Dani flicked her in the head. Jamie laughed and swiped her hand away again.

“You know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Jamie said.

“I know.”

“I’ll have a go at your mum if I have to.”

Dani laughed. “I know.”

“Good,” Jamie said, grinning impishly, “Just s’long as you know.”

They fell silent again, enjoying the quiet and Mikey’s murmured babbling. At the sound, Dani looked up at him and slowly cringed.

“Jamie?”

“Mm?”

“I think Mikey’s eating grass again.”

Jamie shot up to her feet from the blanket like a compressed spring let loose. “For fuck’s sakes,” she grumbled and pulled Mikey up to reveal that indeed, there were strands of grass stuck to his mouth and clutched in his tiny fist.

Dani laughed quietly as Jamie strode past her to delve back inside the house without a backwards glance, fussing over Mikey and brushing away grass from his mouth and hands, grumbling the entire time.

“You keep this shit up, and I’m not bringing you with me to the garden again, d’you hear me?” Mikey babbled in response. “Oh, yeah? Try me, see what happens. No bullshit, I will feed you to the vultures.”

Even as they disappeared inside the house, Dani could still hear Jamie’s muffled voice through the open windows and screen door, scolding Mikey the entire time. She smiled wide to herself, a surge of fond warmth spreading through her as she laid down on her back and listened. While waiting for their return, Dani pulled out Valley of the Dolls from her bag and read a few passages in the interim. After making it three pages further in, she heard the screen door swing open once more and dropped the book to her stomach to crane her neck to see Jamie quietly murmuring to Mikey as she showed him her morning glories.

Dani smiled softly at them, curiously watching as Jamie snipped a single bloom from the vines with a pair of shears, tucking the bloom in Mikey’s collar and tossing the shears onto the porch with a thud. Jamie didn’t meet her eyes as she returned with Mikey to the blanket, sitting cross legged and placing Mikey next to her. In addition to the morning glory tucked in his shirt, he now adorned a pale blue striped sun hat with a ribbon tied under his chin to keep it in place.

“The kid has something for you,” Jamie murmured with a faint smile.

Chuckling, Dani plucked the blue flower from Mikey’s shirt and brought it to her nose, grinning wide as she inhaled its sweet scent. “Thank you, Mikey,” she said, looking directly at Jamie as she smoothed a hand over Mikey’s back as he began to squirm away again. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jamie ducked her head and shrugged. “Wanted to.”

Smiling to herself, Dani took one last smell of the blossom and inserted the stem into the pages of her book next to her bookmark. She folded the book shut, careful not to press on the petals. Setting the book aside, she tilted her head up to Jamie, watching her absently pull at grass as she looked off into the distance.

“You know what’s super funny?” Dani asked. Jamie grunted to indicate she was listening. “You sounded exactly like Nan just now.”

Jamie shot her a dirty look and Dani burst out laughing.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Jamie groused, flinging tufts of grass over Dani, “I snip off one of my hard earned flowers for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“I said it with love?”

“Uh huh. You’re just as bad as him,” Jamie said, jerking her head towards Mikey with a scowl.

“He’s just a baby, he’s not that bad,” Dani said, “He’ll get better once he grows a little more.”

“Oh, sure, and the bigger he gets the more we run out of room,” Jamie said, gesturing broadly towards the house, and groaned, lying down on her back to rest her head on Dani’s stomach and mumbled, “Barely had enough room as it is.”

Dani chuckled, reaching up to pat Jamie’s head, and ending up running her fingers through tangled curly hair.

“I see what you’re doing and it’s not working,” Jamie said, her voice already languid as Dani gently ran her nails over her scalp.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They fell silent again, watching the clouds and a plane pass overhead, leaving a long trail of water vapor behind.

“If you could have any kind of house you wanted, what would it be?” Dani asked.

Jamie huffed. “Silly question, inn’it.”

“Simple one, really.”

Jamie was quiet for a long moment, the silence filled with Mikey wandering back towards Jamie to rest against her chest. Peering down, Dani watched fondy as Jamie seemed to absentmindedly bring her hand up to run it over his back as he cooed and babbled. Finally, Jamie murmured, “Hard to see myself anywhere but here to be honest.”

“Really?” Jamie hummed affirmatively. “Not even just to make something up?”

Jamie shook her head and grinned faintly up at her. “What would be the point? S’never gonna happen anyways.” Dani opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words, not really knowing what to say. Seeing this, Jamie gave her a reassuring smile. “What about you? Any dream houses on your mind?”

“Nothing special, I guess,” she said, shrugging and mulling it over. “Two floors, maybe. White exterior. Blue shutters. A corner to read in with a big comfy chair and shelves for my books. A garden in the backyard like this one. An office space to work in. Room to have friends and family over.” She paused, worrying at her lower lip, her fingers twisting gently in Jamie’s hair. “I’d want it to be warm and welcoming. To smell clean like flowers and fresh laundry, and be a safe space for anyone who needs it.”

“Christ, you’ve really thought about it, huh?”

“No. Not really.”

“Must’ve come from somewhere.”

“Maybe.”

The screen door swung open with a creak along with the tap of a cane against wood, and they both craned their heads to see Nan on the porch watching them with an expression Dani couldn’t read, blank save for the faint furrow of her brows and tilt of her head. “I’ve got a pot brewing, loves,” she said, her voice abnormally soft, “Pop him in his crib and come get a cuppa when you’re ready.”

And without another word, she returned inside the house, the screen door banging behind her. Peering back down, Dani saw that Mikey had fallen asleep on Jamie’s chest and that Jamie was watching him with a faint look of panicked wonder. As though feeling Dani’s stare, Jamie’s eyes darted up to her and the expression promptly vanished.

“Not a word,” Jamie grumbled, carefully gathering Mikey in her arms and sitting up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dani replied with a grin, already reaching inside her bag for her polaroid.

--

It was a rare day when Judy came over to Dani's house. Yet when Dani put on her shoes and called out her goodbyes on the way out, Judy had said she would walk her across the street.

Dani blinked up at her in confusion. "It's okay, Mrs. O'Mara. It's not far. I walk alone all the time. And Jamie walks to school by herself."

"Now, don't get me started on that," Judy warned, leaning over to pull on a pair of flats. "Anyway, I need to give back your mother's salad bowl."

Wondering why Judy didn't just give it to her for transportation across the street, Dani shrugged and waited. The boys had gone off to their various extracurricular activities, leaving her with little to do in their absence unless she wanted to trudge halfway across town to Jamie's house. Tempting an idea though that was, her mother had given strict instructions for Dani to be back home by five and it would take forty minutes to make it all the way to the railway cottage on foot. Another time, maybe. Another night.

Judy disappeared into the kitchen briefly — bang of cupboards and sauce pans — until she reemerged with the aforementioned salad bowl and a tupperware container full of leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Dani eyed the tupperware with puzzlement until Judy pressed it into her hands and made shooing motions towards the front door.

Bemused, Dani shuffled out of the house and across the street with Judy at her side. She tested the handle of her own front door, determined she did not need her key, and ushered Judy inside with a murmured, "Come in."

"You're late," her mother's voice called out from the distant kitchen.

Shoulders hunching, Dani winced. She started when she felt Judy's hand on her back and glanced up in surprise when Judy lifted her voice, "Sorry, Karen! My fault! She was helping me clean up!"

There was the squeal of a chair being pushed back followed by footsteps, and Karen walked into the living room still wearing her work clothes. The blouse was untucked slightly from her skirt and her hair had slipped somewhat free of its usual bun, giving her a rumpled relaxed appearance. Her pale eyes moved between Judy and Dani before she smiled thinly and gestured them forward.

"You didn't need to walk her over, Judy."

"It's fine," Judy insisted as she continued further into the house. "Really. I wanted to give this back to you."

Karen took the glass-etched bowl that Judy held out to her. "Well, thank you. That's very kind. Would you like to stay for a drink?"

"Oh," said Judy. "Yes. Sure. Just a small glass."

Dani watched this interaction in silence. She still stood by the entryway, hand holding the door open. When her mother gave her a look, Dani ducked her head and shut it, careful to not make too loud a noise. Quiet hitch of the latch. By the time she removed her shoes and arranged them neatly by the door, her mom and Judy had already disappeared into the kitchen. They didn't even glance in her direction when she came in after them. Making a beeline for the fridge, Dani stored the container of food in the back for later, hiding it behind a shuffle of condiment jars.

Her mother was reaching into a cabinet for another glass and a fresh bottle of red. An empty bottle already stood beside the sink. From Dani's position by the refrigerator, she could see several more clustered on the floor, hidden behind cabinetry and in front of the door leading to the garage. Conquests from earlier in the week.

Shutting the fridge door, Dani mumbled, "I'm going to go read in my room."

"Okay, sweetie," Judy replied brightly, though she was idly tilting her head to read the front page of the newspaper sprawled across the square dining table.

On her way past, Dani paused. "Um -?" she hesitated, glancing at her mom, who was twisting the cork free from the neck, and then at Judy. "Can I come over again tomorrow?"

The cork came free with an expert pop. Her mother's mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Judy smiled and said, "Of course, you can."

Dani's eyes darted to her mother, but Karen was merely pouring healthy glugs of burgundy wine into the two glasses. Not waiting to be denied this opportunity, Dani quickly slipped away. She retreated up the stairs, only to stop at the very top. There, she turned back around and crept back down a few more steps, avoiding all the boards that creaked and groaned, until she sat atop her favored step, where the sounds of the kitchen and living room could be heard best.

"I'm sorry she's such a bother," she heard her mother saying. "I keep telling her that she can't spend too much time over at your house. That you have other things to do."

"Nonsense. She's always welcome," said Judy, sounding like she actually meant it. "The boys love her. And besides, I appreciate having a little more estrogen around the place."

"If you say so," Karen murmured. There was a pause, a chair being moved, followed by, "I don't know how you do it, honestly. Four boys? Most days I don't know what to do with one girl."

Judy laughed. "Well, Mike's a godsend, let me tell you."

"Mmm," Karen hummed around a sip of wine, a sound that was all too familiar. "Definitely would be easier with someone else to lighten the load. Sam wasn't the best candidate for the job — not by a long shot — but at least he kept her occupied."

There followed a pause, then Judy asking almost too softly to overhear, "Does she talk about him much?"

At that Karen snorted. "No. Thank God. Though for the first year after he died it was 'Dad this' and 'Dad that.' Like he was still around to give her permission or excuses."

"Kids," said Judy, "can bounce back pretty quick, but they still need time to adjust. And she's adjusted just fine, by the looks of things."

"Better than I have, if I'm being honest," Karen said. Clink of glass against the table. "Sometimes I still come across his things around the house. Right when I least expect it. When I’ve thought I’ve finally forgotten all about him. Then suddenly there’s little pieces of him scattered around like — I don’t know. And then it’s like he never left.”

Judy's answer was gentle. "You're doing great. And, you know, Danielle isn't the only one welcome to come over when she wants company."

Dani couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her mother laugh — really laugh — even if it was wobbly, weak, even if her words were already starting to slur slightly. Karen cleared her throat, then Dani could hear the familiar sound of another glass of wine being drained and poured.

Shuffle of the newspaper beneath a set of hands. "Is this today's?" Judy asked.

Karen hummed, the noise rounded as it echoed in a glass.

"Is it baseball season yet? I can never keep track." Judy turned a few pages of the paper. "The boys have been driving me mad at the house this summer, and Mike promised to take them to a game."

"Never was one for sports," said Karen. "Did you read about the latest news from the Courts?"

"No?"

"Well, I have a friend who's a clerk there. You know Graham?"

Crinkle of the page and a noise from Judy indicating that she did indeed know a man by that name.

"At the gardens a few weeks ago," Karen continued and Dani's stomach swooped at the memory of the corporate function at the botanical gardens, "we got to talking about this Pilcher case."

"The sodomy one?"

"Yes, that one."

"I thought it'd already passed? Reynoldson was pretty clear about it."

"Well, Graham says that they're already slammed with appeals. Says that it's just a matter of time until they repeal more than that."

For a moment there was silence. Dani had very little idea what they were talking about — she made a mental note to look up the word ‘sodomy’ later, or perhaps ask Nan — but she listened for any clues.

“I don’t see how that has much to do with us,” Judy said.

“Soon they’ll be teaching queer nonsense in schools, and then it will have something to do with us.”

“They’re teenagers, Karen. The twins are turning seventeen this year — God help me. You remember what that was like. You think they don’t already have some idea of that kind of thing?”

“If they do,” her mother said in those cool clipped tones, “then it’s because of bad influences. And if it’s been taught, then it can be untaught.”

Judy sighed. “I suppose. Thank you for the wine. I should probably get back. I left Mike to finish prepping dinner, but I’ll need to make sure the kitchen isn’t on fire.”

Karen’s answering laugh had returned to the usual stiff and reedy variety that lacked any real joy. There was the scrape of chairs and the rustle of the newspaper pages against the wooden tabletop.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to,” said Judy. “I can show myself out.”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you on Sunday!”

Footsteps down the hall. Judy came into view at the bottom of the stairs as she walked towards the front door. Dani was frozen in place like a deer in the headlights. She held her breath and remained still, as if moving would draw the attentions of a shark parting the waters. Judy paused at the base of the steps to glance over her shoulder back towards the kitchen, patting at the rear pocket of her jeans to check for keys, but she stopped when she caught sight of Dani further up the stairs, crouched and wide-eyed.

Dani’s heart pounded in her chest. It had been years since she’d been caught eavesdropping. Scampering up the stairs at the last second always ended badly. Flight was as good as proof of guilt.

Judy lifted her hand in a brief wave and offered Dani an anemic smile. When Dani did not return them, Judy continued on her way and she was gone.

--

Dani heard a tap at her window. She ignored it. Just that old tree branch that had grown too close and brushed up against the side of the house when there was a breeze. She wished her mother would hire an arborist to come trim it, but knew she would probably be the one to go over to the O'Mara household and ask to use some tools to do it herself. Most likely Eddie and Jamie would leap at the opportunity to help. And maybe Carson, though chances were he would just stand by Dani's side while they craned their necks and watched the other two risk life and limb to do this menial task.

Another tap. Louder this time. Heavier. Dani frowned and rolled over in bed. The air was utterly still and the tree branch was unmoving. She blinked, startled, when the tap came again and she saw something plink against the window and fall back towards the ground. Throwing off the sheets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and crossed the room to open the window and poke her head out into the night air.

"Took you long enough. Bloody hell."

Dani gripped the windowsill and hissed, "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Jamie gestured to the ground around her. "Hurry up and come down."

"What?" Dani said, incredulous, and froze when she thought she heard the floorboards creak outside her room. She held her breath, looking over her shoulder and listening to her mother stumble past. Karen was murmuring to herself the way she did when she’d indulged in one glass too many.

Dani should have checked on her. She should have checked for the smoking butts of cigarettes between the couch cushions. She should have cleaned up the mess of a kitchen. Wine-dark rings on the table. The residue of a glass and stem.

Instead, she turned back to the window and said in a low voice, "Give me a sec."

Gripping the hem of her nightgown, Dani pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the bed as she crossed the room. She opened a chest of drawers and tugged on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. She was pulling her hair back with a hair tie when she cautiously opened her bedroom door and, as quietly as she could, shut it behind her and sneaked down the stairs. She held her breath the whole way down and carried her shoes in her hands out the front door.

Jamie had moved around the house and was sitting on the stoop. She twisted round when Dani sat beside her. "Don't know why you're so nervous," she said. "Your mum sleeps like the dead after she's had a few."

Sighing, Dani pulled on her shoes. "Wish Nan slept that soundly. If she finds out you're out tonight -"

"She won't," Jamie said.

Dani paused in the act of lacing up her shoes to give Jamie a significant look.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "She had a glass of sherry. Plus, Mikey’s been driving her mad the last few evenings. She’ll be out like a light tonight."

"Hmm." Dani finished the final lace and leaned her elbows on her knees. "So, what are we doing?"

With a devilish grin, Jamie held up a set of keys and shook them. "Care for a drive?"

Dani's eyes widened. "You didn't."

"I did."

"She's going to be so angry."

"Only if she finds out."

Dani arched an eyebrow. In retaliation, Jamie knocked their ankles together. "C'mon. I bought us tickets and everything."

"Tickets? To what?" Dani asked, but Jamie was already standing and offering her hand, and Dani was taking it, allowing herself to be hauled to her feet and dragged along to the street.

"One of those outdoor picture theatres," Jamie said. She let go of Dani's hand when they reached the run down old truck that Nan had bought off of a local farmer when they'd first moved to town. Rounding the truck to yank open the driver's seat door — nobody ever locked their car doors in North Liberty; most people hardly locked their front doors in North Liberty — Jamie said, "Said you wanted to go to one of those, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," said Dani, pulling open the passenger's side and sliding up into the high seat. "But I didn't think anyone was listening at the time."

"Well, I was." Jamie slammed her door shut and stuck the key into the ignition before buckling up. She glanced over at Dani to check she had her own seat belt on, then stamped on the clutch and turned the key. The engine sputtered to life. Jamie flicked on the headlights, put the truck into gear, and pulled away from the curb as though she'd done this a thousand times and not only twenty.

"Have you and Mike been practising without me?" Dani asked, watching the smooth ease with which Jamie shifted gears.

"Nah," said Jamie, not taking her eyes off the empty road. "Nan's been having me drive her places. Says her leg's been acting up."

"Ah, yes. The old war wound," Dani said dryly.

Jamie snorted derisively. "What rubbish. Probably just got trod on by a horse, the daft cow."

"You're very brave when she's not within earshot."

"So're you, you fuckin' hypocrite."

Dani grinned, letting herself settle into the worn seats, the old leather cracked with age and overexposure to sunlight. Whereas her mother's car was always a warren of old wrapping papers and receipts, loose pages and empty water bottles that smelled of vodka, Nan's truck was incredibly tidy. There was nothing to tangle up around Dani's feet when she stretched out her legs. An air freshener in the shape of a pine tree dangled from the rear view mirror, and there were tell tale signs of a rag that had been used to dust the dashboard. Jamie's handiwork at Nan's insistence, no doubt.

"Where is this place anyway?" Dani asked as Jamie shifted into fifth and sped up on the motorway. The ground was eaten up by the tires. The glow of the stars was faint compared to the glare of the truck's headlights parting the gloom.

“Grandview.”

“Grandview?” Dani repeated. “That’s, like, an hour away!”

“I promise to get you home before dawn,” Jamie drawled.

"You'd better. I don't want to turn into a pumpkin."

Jamie snickered. "Awfully cute pumpkin, though."

Dani pushed Jamie's hand off the gear stick. "Shut up."

Jamie let her hand be shoved aside, using the momentum to reach for the radio and flick it on. "Find us something, won't you?"

Dutifully, Dani leaned forward and began fiddling with the dial, sliding through frequencies until she landed on a station. "This one all right?"

Jamie shrugged and rested her hand back on the gear stick. "Your choice, inn’it?"

"Yeah, but I want to make sure you like it, too."

Turning her head quickly, Jamie flashed her an indulgent smile before staring out at the dark stretch of straight road before them. "Long as you're enjoying yourself, I don't mind much. Any music's fine."

For a moment, Dani said nothing. She let the grind of guitars play out for a few seconds, then reached out for the radio again, turning the dial until she found a pop station she actually liked. She furtively checked for a reaction, but all Jamie did was tap along to the rhythm against the steering wheel.

The inside of the truck was boiling, but neither of them bothered with the air conditioning. Dani cracked the passenger side window and leaned her head against the frame to let the warm August air pull across her face. Jamie already had her window rolled down, one elbow leaning against the open gap while she steered with one hand. Dani did not realize she was staring at the way Jamie's messy brown curls were tousled by the fast-moving air, until Jamie stole a glance over at her and grinned.

"See something you like?"

Dani smiled and looked back down the stretch of road before them. "You wish."

Jamie did not answer. Instead, she leaned forward and turned up the volume until the music drowned out the rush of the night air. Dani tucked a stray curl of blonde hair behind her ear and studied the roil of clouds in the sky. The night was humid and tense, as though the heavens were holding their breath in anticipation.

"Should be a big storm," Dani said idly over the music.

Jamie hummed, then replied, "Paper reckons it'll break on the weekend."

"You sure this isn't one of your hare-brained schemes to chase storms again?"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "If it were, I'd've dragged you out tomorrow instead."

To this Dani conceded with a shrug and nod. Outside there called a roll of distant thunder across the plains, but no matter how much Dani craned her neck she couldn't see any lightning.

By the time Jamie pulled off highway 61 and turned down a few back roads, they had switched radio stations three times in search of songs to sing along to. Music blared from the open windows as they drove along, dust and laughter and mismatched singing curling in the wake of the truck's tires. Dani turned down the volume when she saw a big screen looming over a field, its surface already flickering with light.

"Are we late?" Dani asked.

Jamie turned over her wrist to check her battered old watch. "Nah. Two minutes. Tops. Right on time, really."

A bored-looking man at a farm gate checked the tickets Jamie handed over with a flashlight. He shone the light in their faces, and Dani flinched away from the sudden brightness.

"This is an R rated movie, Miss," he said.

"Yup," said Jamie. "Knew that when I bought the tickets."

For a moment Dani was afraid he was going to ask them for some form of identification, but then he just shrugged and pulled open the gate. Jamie gave him a lazy wave as they passed, which he returned, shutting the gate behind them.

Dani was still blinking purple spots from her vision when she leaned forward in her seat. "Jamie."

"Hmm?"

"What movie are we seeing?"

"The only movie that was playing," said Jamie. "Carrie."

Dani's brows furrowed in thought as she tried to recall the premise of the movie. She vaguely remembered seeing an ad in the paper with the title, but she hadn't seen a trailer.

A horror film, she knew. The last time she had seen a horror film, Tommy and David had made them watch The Exorcist in the basement. Carson had spent practically the whole time with his eyes covered by a pillow. Eddie had pretended to be unaffected, but every now and then he would grip Dani's hand and his jaw would clench as he swallowed. For her part, Dani kept waiting to be scared, waiting to feel the same thrill of fear that so clearly gripped the others, only to be vaguely disappointed when the anticipation was greater than the punchline. Or the pea soup, as it were.

"You all right with scary movies?" Jamie asked as she backed into a space beside a row of other already parked vehicles and killed the engine.

"They're okay. I haven't seen many," Dani answered honestly. "I think a better question is: why are we parked backwards?”

With a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows Jamie reached over the back of the seat into the cramped storage compartment between them and the base of the truck's bed. After a bit of rummaging around, she pulled out a pillow and a blanket. "Let's go," Jamie said, jerking her head towards the bed behind them. "I think it's about to start."

Grinning, Dani opened the passenger door and followed Jamie around the back of the truck. Jamie had already hopped out and opened the tray so that they could clamber up inside. It had been swept clean, not a speck of dirt to be found by Nan's critical eye. Jamie tossed down the pillow against the back and sat, peeling back the blanket to leave a clear space beside her. Dani took it without a hint of hesitation, pulling half of the blanket over herself and wriggling closer to Jamie so they could share.

The film had already been running for a few seconds. They’d missed the opening producer’s logo. On screen a group of girls was playing volleyball at school, and all of them were blaming the titular character for being bad at sports and making them lose.

Jamie nudged her side gently. “Didn’t know they made this movie about you, Poppins.”

Dani nudged her back not as gently. “Shut up.”

Jamie just snickered. As the title sequence began to roll across the visual of a locker room, Jamie pointed up at the screen. “Think I saw a tit,” she said.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about?”

Unabashed, Jamie just shrugged. “Usually. Yeah.”

Water and blood was running down a girl’s naked thigh on screen, but Dani hardly noticed. She was too preoccupied by the way Jamie's legs tangled up in her own, both of them wearing shorts. Skin against warm skin. When Dani rearranged her ankles to a more comfortable position, Jamie didn't even glance over at her, simply shifted so that Dani's calves were between both of her own, the two settling against one another. One of their shoulders overlapped. Dani could feel part of Jamie's chest rise against the base of her shoulder blade with every inhalation.

"Is this comfortable?" Dani murmured.

Jamie shot her a quick grin. “Yeah. ‘Course. You?”

Dani nodded. On screen Carrie was in the principal’s office, clutching folders and papers to her chest. “Wish I got a week off of gym class,” Dani said under her breath.

Jamie laughed and Dani could feel every movement. “At least your mum’s not as nutty as this one.”

Dani hummed in agreement but said nothing and the film rolled on. Most of what Dani knew of horror films involved chainsaws and sharks and priests chanting Latin at possessed girls. To her, chainsaws were useful tools. Sharks were all but nonexistent apart from a concept that involved distant oceans. And she had yet to come across a possession no matter how many times Jamie claimed Jackie Pullman was the Antichrist.

This was different. This was a quiet suburban district. This was familiar hairstyles. Familiar midwestern accents and familiar clothes. A school that might as well have been filmed on their own campus, and the kind of crude bullying classmates that made her wince. A mother dragging a daughter through the kitchen and locking her into a closet until she screamed, pounded at the door with fists and wails, voice raw, begging to be let out until she broke. Tremor and prayer and—

“Hey.”

Jamie’s voice jerked Dani from the screen. She was tense all over and squeezing Jamie’s hand tight enough that her own bones creaked.

“Sorry,” Dani mumbled. She tried to pull her hand away, but Jamie held her fast and warm.

“We can go,” said Jamie. “If you want. We can just go.”

Dani’s eyes darted back up to the screen, but the scene had passed. Mrs. White was accepting a kiss on the cheek from her daughter before bed and Carrie was crying into her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

They could leave. It didn’t matter that Dani had been wanting to go to an outdoor picture theatre for the pure novelty of it. It wasn’t about watching a movie. Jamie would laugh it off and drive them back without even making Dani feel bad about it. They could take the long way home. They could wend their way back, lazy as you please, letting the August wind guide them. She could watch the way Jamie's hair caught the breeze, the way her face was lit up by the rare passing car. She didn't need an excuse to drive with Jamie for hours with no destination in mind, nowhere to be tomorrow, nothing but road ahead and road behind, long and straight as far as the eye could see.

Still, Dani shook her head. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “This is fine.”

In the night, in the soft light of the large screen stretching over a field, Jamie’s eyes were dark. The faintest glint of the screen reflected when she blinked, studying Dani’s face, her own expression inscrutable. Then Jamie smiled. "Right, then."

She shifted and for a brief moment Dani thought she was going to pack them up to leave regardless, but Jamie only moved around enough so that she could slip her arm around Dani's back, her hand lingering at Dani's waist. "Offer still stands," Jamie said. "Whenever you like."

There was a snarky remark on the tip of Dani's tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not when Jamie was being sweet. She relaxed against Jamie’s arm with a sigh, letting her head lean against Jamie’s shoulder as they settled in for the rest of the movie. The premise only got more ridiculous. Somehow it was better with the supernatural elements. Less real. Carrie moving things with her mind. Carrie being less of a girl and more of a spectre. Dani actually had to bite her lip to hold back a snort when the bucket of blood dropped on her prom date and knocked him clean out on the floor.

“Bit silly,” Jamie said with a huff of laughter. She was a line of warmth against Dani’s flank. Her hand hadn’t moved from its spot at Dani’s waist in what must have been an hour.

“It’s the hose that gets me,” Dani said, miming it with her hand in Jamie’s face. When Dani dared to tap at Jamie’s nose, Jamie stuck out her tongue and Dani jerked her hand back with an amused squeak. Flames leapt up the twenty foot tall screen, shrouding Carrie in gruesome reds, but Dani was too busy wriggling away from Jamie's treacherous prodding at just the right place on her side that always made her squirm.

The first drop of rain splattered against the blanket and at first Dani thought it was a moth attracted by the soft light. The next drop of rain however landed on the back of her arm. She jerked, looking up at the sky. At first the sound of rain falling was drowned out by the shrill shriek of violins, but a flash of lightning and the roll of thunder was impossible to miss.

“Weekend my flat arse,” Jamie swore, sounding more like Nan than ever as she and Dani both scrambled from the bed of the truck.

“Pillow!” Dani pointed even as she carried the blanket in her own arms.

Swearing again — the rain was coming thick and fast now — Jamie stood on the tire so she could reach into the truck bed and snatch up the pillow. They clambered back into the truck, drenched and laughing. Jamie’s hair was plastered to her face and neck like trails of black ink, and Dani raked a hand through her own hair to get it away from her face.

“This is better than the end of the movie anyway,” Jamie said with a broad grin. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her white shirt might as well have been invisible from the way it clung to her frame.

Dani reached out and plucked at the sleeve of her t-shirt, laughing, “You look like you just jumped into a lake.”

“Think you’re any better off?” Jamie asked. She winked, brushing Dani’s hand off so she could start the engine. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Rain pummeled the roof of the truck in a steady downpour broken only by the occasional flash and crack of the sky overhead. Jamie nursed the truck along, leaning forward in her seat and craning her neck for a glimpse of lightning forking across the sky in favor of speeding down the road, while Dani rubbed the wet from her hair with whatever dry parts of the blanket she could find.

“Do I really look that bad?” Dani asked.

“You saying I look bad?”

Glancing over, Dani let her eyes wander across the stretch of wet fabric across Jamie’s shoulders. “No,” she said, clearing her throat. Then she added, “The jeans are uncomfortable though.”

With a grimace, Jamie shifted in her seat and tugged at the line of her too short jeans with her spare hand. “True that. Should’ve worn a skirt.”

“You don’t own a skirt.”

“Just because you haven’t seen me wear a skirt,” said Jamie. “Doesn’t mean I don’t own a skirt.”

“I want to see it when we get back.”

“Tomorrow,” Jamie said. “And you’ll make me cups of tea for a week as payment for when you lose.”

Dani stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

Gamely — and careful not to take her eyes off the road — Jamie reached out and shook Dani’s hand. As Dani was about to retract it however, Jamie tightened her hold with a grin. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t actually own a skirt?” Dani asked, and she teased at the soft underside of Jamie’s wrist with the tips of her fingers.

Jamie tangled their fingers together to get her to stop. “No. It’s my way of asking what you want to do next time.”

Smiling, Dani said, “See another movie?”

“Done.”

Jamie shook her hand firmly once more, then let her go.

--

here take some memes

[jeranasblog]

Welcome to Discord

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: Peter spends a lot of time on a kink Discord server, talking about his sexuality and accepting his kinks. When he met CallMeDaddy70, he is drawn in and it immediately clicks between the two of them. How could he have known that everything leads to a huge surprise?

Warnings: No major warnings, but since it’s smut, check the tags on Ao3

Notes: The idea is from @itfeelssogoodmrstark​ (All the credits for this to her, pls). I hope you like it <3

Read on Ao3

Peter was nervous. He sat on the couch, squirming every second, and his feet tapped rhythmically on the floor. His mind was filled with anxious thoughts, thoughts about what could go wrong, how he could fuck it up, and he was close to screaming and hiding under his bed after. His whole life depended on tomorrow. 

Since he had been a little kid, Peter loved engineering. He built his first robot before he even went to school, studied day and night to get into MIT, and worked hard to graduate early. Everything to get his dream job, everything to work for Stark Industries. It wasn’t only the company, the attempts to make clean energy and save the world, no it was also Tony Stark himself, Peter was gone for. Stark wasn’t only an engineer, he was an inventor, and Peter would die to work for him, to help him save the world. 

And tomorrow, he had to prove himself. Peter had applied for the job at SI months ago and after a few tests, he was invited to a job interview, not with just anyone, but with Tony Stark personally. His stomach turned when he thought about it. Tomorrow would show if his dream would come true. 

Peter tried to calm down, he really did. He made himself a cup of tea, binge-watched Netflix, and called his best friend MJ to calm down, but nothing worked. In the end, he was as nervous as he had been before and there was no way he would find sleep tonight. No way but… Wait, there was one approach he hadn’t tried yet.

Suddenly giddy with excitement, Peter grabbed his laptop and opened Discord. The familiar screen was greeting him, his most visited server already opened. He pondered for a second before he decided to click on the “general” channel.

WatermelonSugar: Hey, guys. KinkyBastard1: Hey, Sugar. LetMeTieYourHands: Hey, Sugar. How are you?

Peter smiled a little. The people on the Discord channel were amazing and he felt welcome in the small community that had built up over the years. They had encouraged him to talk about his kinks, to accept himself and the things he liked, and even though not all of them shared the same interests, they were kind and understanding. 

When he had first joined the kink Discord MJ had recommended, Peter had expected to get a dick pic in the first five minutes. He knew the internet, knew some people were only there to get a few nudes they could jerk off to, but Peter wanted something else. Sure, he wanted to talk to people about sex, might even want to video chat with a few hot and older men, but he also wanted to talk to them. 

WatermelonSugar: I’m fine. Just a little stressed. LetMeTieYourHands: Oh, I’m sorry. What’s up? WatermelonSugar: Important job interview tomorrow. KinkyBastard1: Definitely crossing my fingers for you, Sugar. What have you applied for?

Peter smiled at the question. He hadn’t even told them his real name, but they still cared about him, his life, and his sexuality and the thought made him warm inside. From his real-life friends, only MJ knew what he liked. She knew Peter wanted to be with an older man, someone who calls himself Daddy, someone who could hold him down and praise him until Peter was a shivering mess. It took him quite the courage to tell her what he liked, but it had been so worth it because she recommended to try out the Discord. Holy, the decision had been a good one.

Peter had spent hours online, chatting with other Subs who liked exactly the same and Daddies who made him feel things he hadn’t felt before. He loved the freedom he had online, the anonymity. Still, no one had ever woken the wish inside of him to meet, they were amazing, but it hadn’t clicked until one day, Peter had met CallMeDaddy70 who ticked all his boxes. 

CallMeDaddy70 was kind and sweet. He asked Peter about his day and his friends, talked to him about his interests, which they shared by the way because Daddy was an engineer as well, and he encouraged Peter to talk about his problems and fears. Peter had learned a lot, talking about his desires in bed and he was grateful Daddy was such a good mentor. 

But when the mood struck, Daddy could be the complete opposite. Once in a while, their private chats had turned dirty and Peter couldn’t get his hands in his pants fast enough. The other man was shameless, obscenely describing what he wanted to do to Peter, and the thought of someone dominating him like this had made him come all over himself. And yesterday Daddy had offered Peter to set up a face call. 

He was a little disappointed when Daddy wasn’t online yet because he had hoped to see the man for the first time. He craved the other man’s presence, although he hadn’t even seen him yet, although he hadn’t even talked to him yet.

WatermelonSugar: I’m applying for an engineering job. It’s actually a job I wanted since I was a little child. KinkyBastard1: That’s amazing. I wish you all the luck. WatermelonSugar: Ty

After that, Peter only skimmed through the other channels. He read a discussion of two members talking about their bondage fantasies and he admired the picture of LetMeTieYourHands who tried Shibari on his Sub for the first time, but nothing caught his eyes for a long time until a private message popped up.

CallMeDaddy70: Hey, Sugar. I’ve seen you’re online. How are you?

Suddenly, Peter was excited again, shifting on his couch to be closer to the screen.

WatermelonSugar: Great, now that you’re there. How are you? CallMeDaddy70: That’s cute, baby boy <3 I’m fine. A little stressed because my secretary made me sign contracts the entire day.

Right, Peter had forgotten it. Daddy owned a big company and the thought made him even more irresistible. It wasn’t even the money the man probably had, it was the power that drew Peter in. 

WatermelonSugar: To be honest, I’ve been waiting for you.

Peter swallowed after he had confessed the truth and stared at the three dots on the screen that showed that Daddy was typing. 

CallMeDaddy70: Is that so, baby boy? WatermelonSugar: YES. You promised me we could call soon, Daddy.

Usually, Peter wouldn’t be so straight forward, but he had been fidgety all day and he needed to find a way to get all the emotions out. Talking to Daddy would make him think about something else, and to be honest, he couldn’t wait to figure out how the other man looked anyway.

CallMeDaddy70: I did that, didn’t I? Alright, baby boy. Give me ten minutes. I set up my cam.

Holy shit. Even though Peter had suggested talking, he hadn’t been sure Daddy would agree. Suddenly, he was terribly nervous. What if Daddy wouldn’t like him? What if he made a fool out of himself? 

Peter sprinted to his bedroom and opened his closet door. There was no way he would wear his old joggers when he saw Daddy for the first time, so Peter pulled out his velvet sleeping shorts and a cropped t-shirt. He wanted to look nice for Daddy, wanted the other man to like him. 

Thankfully, Peter was back before Daddy called. He sat down in front of the screen, anxiously fumbling with the hem of his shirt and waiting for the green button to appear. He was startled when he heard the sound, nevertheless. 

“Hey, Daddy,” Peter’s voice was trembling with excitement when he accepted the call. The screen of the other man was still black, and it took a second before he came into view. Holy, whatever Peter had expected, this wasn’t it. 

Daddy was the most handsome man he had ever seen. He was older than Peter, but it wasn’t obvious how much older, since his face was still hidden in the shadows of the room. The suit jacket Daddy wore was opened, revealing a muscular chest no one was allowed to have, and Peter’s mouth watered in anticipation. He wanted to climb this man like a tree, rub himself all over him and bounce on his cock. But the worst were Daddy’s thighs, thick and muscular, straining the suit pants and seducing Peter into giving himself away. 

Peter hadn’t thought it could get even worse until Daddy opened his mouth. “Hi, Sugar. I’m glad we could finally call. I’m sorry for keeping my face hidden, but I appreciate the privacy for now.” 

God, the voice, a deep baritone that vibrated through Peter’s body, lightening him up and making him shake in arousal. He didn’t even care that Daddy was hiding his face, too delighted that they could finally talk after all. Apparently, Peter had been quiet too long because the man spoke up again.

“God, Sugar, look at you,” Peter immediately blushed. “I’ve imagined a lot of things, but I haven’t imagined you looking like this. So innocent, so beautiful. Are you even legal?”

Peter squirmed in delight and the words made his cock twitch in his shorts. He was riled up from the entire day and such a gorgeous man on top finally made him break. “Daddy, you’re so handsome yourself. And don’t worry, I’m twenty-three.” The words came out shy and Peter giggled afterward, hiding his smile behind one hand. 

The reaction he got was a growl. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’ve planned to talk with you a little first, ask you about your day and the things you’ve planned, but forgive me, I can’t. Do you even know how you’re looking right now, baby? Tight little shorts that show off everything. God, look at your creamy thighs.”

It was the moment Peter whimpered for the first time and there was no way Daddy hadn’t heard it. He could see how the other man shifted in his chair, one hand moving and pressing down on his crotch. Although Daddy hadn’t taken his length out yet, the tenting pants were enough to show that the man was well endowed, and Peter whimpered for a second time. 

“Daddy, I’m so sorry, I need you so much.” Peter’s body burned and he was squirming on the couch. He sat on his knees, thighs spread in front of the camera and he could no longer suppress the urge to pat his cock through his shorts. The fabric was thin, and even though he wore his favorite pair of white panties underneath, Peter could feel every touch. 

“I’m a bad man,” Daddy sighed while he opened his zipper and pulled out his cock, the rest of his clothes still snugly in place. “I didn’t want to be one of those internet creeps, but here I am, cock in my hand not even ten minutes after I’ve seen you for the first time.”

Peter’s mouth watered and he increased the pressure on his groin, his hips slowly started to move. Daddy’s cock was everything he had ever dreamed of, long and thick, oh so much thicker than his own, slightly curved and an angry red. It invited Peter to open his lips and take him as deep as possible. 

The arousal was heady, pushing his fear of embarrassment and rejection in the back of his mind while he watched the man stroking his own cock. “Please, Daddy. Can I touch myself?” He felt the sudden urge to ask for permission. 

The noise he got in return was outright obscene. The man growled, his grip getting tighter and Peter could see that his knuckles turned white. He did this, Peter made this man lose control and he whined, still doing nothing but keeping up the pressure on his cock. 

“Be a good boy for me, Sugar,” Daddy commanded, his breathing still even although his cock looked like it would explode any second. “Take off your shorts. Show me, baby. Show Daddy what he’s working with.”

Peter sobbed in relief when the pressure on his cock lessened and he couldn’t get out of his pants fast enough. He was a little sad Daddy couldn’t admire the white panties he had picked out, but the need to get off was too strong to ignore. 

“That’s it, baby,” Daddy praised, and the word went directly to Peter’s cock and made him moan. “Look at this, Sugar. Your cock is perfect. So cute and wet for me. Spread your legs a little more for Daddy.”

There was no way Peter couldn’t obey, so he spread his legs as wide as possible. He leaned back; his body propped against the back of the sofa while he double-checked the view Daddy had. While the man was sitting in an armchair, only his cock on display, Peter was almost completely exposed. The thought of Daddy still being fully closed did things to him and his cock twitched against his stomach. 

“One hand on your cock, baby,” the man instructed, and Peter eagerly followed his command. “Don’t grip it, baby. Just a slight caress on the side. Tease, Sugar.”

“No, Daddy, please,” Peter whimpered, but he obeyed nevertheless, keeping his touch painfully light. If his mind had been clear, he might have been embarrassed about the sounds he made, but there was nothing he could think about beside Daddy. 

His pleads seemed to be the last straw because he could see that the man picked up the rhythm. Daddy’s fist was squeezed tightly around his own cock and he jerked himself off fiercely. “Sugar, do you have lube? Would you finger yourself for me? It’s okay to say no, but Daddy wants to see your tight little hole.”

Yes, yes, yes. Peter wanted it very much. As much as he liked playing with his cock, feeling something inside of him was just this tiny bit more. Suddenly, he was glad he had prepared himself and he fumbled for the lube he had hidden behind a couch cushion, his other hand not once leaving his cock. Peter opened the cap and dribbled a huge amount on his free hand. 

“Can I, Daddy? Please, lemme?” It didn’t matter if he had to beg or plead, he would sob and scream just to get this delicious friction inside of him. Daddy was pressing all his buttons and he knew he had never been this aroused, this desperate, in his life. He was barely touching his cock, didn’t even have a finger inside, but Peter could already feel that he was getting close. Just from a few words and a whole lot of tension between him and the older man. 

The man paused for a second and it was the first time Peter would die to see his face. He understood it, the man was probably important since he owned a company and he couldn’t show his face to just anyone on the internet, especially because they were doing a lot more than just talk, but he still wanted to see the other man’s expression. Would he look firmly at Peter? Would he smile or would he be serious? A sob left his lips, he couldn’t wait anymore, and the anticipation was killing him. 

“You may, Sugar.” Finally. He couldn’t wait for even a second longer, pressing in his first finger in one go. Peter was used to this, he was fingering himself multiple times a week, so he thrust in once or twice before he added a second finger, moaning when he felt the delicious burn. His eyes had fallen shut, the sensation too much but not enough, and he could feel that his own legs started to tremble. 

“God, Sugar, look at this. Do you see how your hole is swallowing your fingers? I’ve never seen anything so greedy before. Tell me, are you a slut, Sugar?”

The words were too much, Peter cried. Daddy figured out every single kink he had. The longing for praise, the desire to be humiliated, and the urge to give the control over to someone else. His walls started to clench, squeezing down on his fingers and although he hadn’t even touched his prostate, Peter was coming. 

Peter arched his back, sobbing when the sensation washed over him. His cock was spurting weakly in his hand, but his hole clenched as if it wanted to milk his fingers. Peter could feel his conscious slipping, black spots danced in his vision while his entire body was shaking on the couch. He had never come this hard in his life before, not even during sex. Daddy’s presence alone made him go crazy and his words were just the cherry on top. 

 When Peter finally came to, his body still buzzing with endorphins, he took a look at the screen and saw that the man had climaxed as well. He was a little sad that he had missed watching Daddy during his orgasm, but if he would be lucky, this wasn’t their last time together. 

“Sugar, you were amazing,” the man praised, and Peter blushed a little. His shamelessness was a little embarrassing now that he was spent, but the man seemed to like it, so Peter tried not to dwell on it.  

“Thank you, Daddy. You were amazing as well. Do you think we can repeat this one day?” 

The man chuckled deeply. “Sure, Sugar, but I don’t wanna hang up yet. Go and clean yourself. You’ve mentioned a job interview in the chat? Tell me about it.”

Peter smiled. This man was everything he had ever dreamed about and one day he wanted to meet him. Daddy wasn’t only looking for sex, although the fun they had together was amazing, Daddy was also interested in him and the thought made him feel warm inside. He had completely forgotten the interview, and even though Daddy had just reminded him, the nervousness had lessened. It was manageable now. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Peter whispered to himself and when he got up to clean himself, he could feel a single tear running down his cheek. Whoever Daddy was, Peter fell for him.

 ~*~

The next day Peter was sitting in the lobby of Stark Industries, the biggest tech company in the US. His hands trembled a little, but the panic wasn’t overwhelming. Daddy had cheered him up last night, assuring him he would do great and Peter believed him. He had all the qualifications necessary and now he only had to convince Tony Stark. Daddy had told him over and over again, that Peter couldn’t fuck it up if he wanted it so badly. He was burning for it and everyone would see it. 

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Stark is waiting for you.” A beautiful blonde woman picked him up and led him towards an elevator. “Just get in. JARVIS will get you to Mr. Stark’s office.”

Peter smiled at her words. However the day will end, he had at least met JARVIS. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

When the elevator doors closed behind him, Peter felt the familiar nervousness coming back, but he concentrated on his breathing. He would do it. He wanted this, he just had to show Tony Stark that he was suitable for the job.”

A ping announced his arrival and he could see a familiar figure sitting behind a huge metal desk. Peter was giddy. He had admired Mr. Stark for years and this would be the time he could finally meet him. The man wasn’t looking at him, occupied with the phone in his hand.

“Mr. Parker, please take a seat.”

Oh, no. Peter froze. He knew the voice, there was no way he was wrong. “Mr. St-Stark,” Peter stuttered, and the two words were enough for the man to look up abruptly. The figure fit, but when Peter’s gaze wandered lower towards the thick thighs straining the suit pants, he knew he was right. 

In the end, Mr. Stark confirmed his assumption. “Oh Sugar, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

Peter shuddered, still unsure what to do. Daddy was Tony Stark, the Tony Stark and if he played his cards right, Daddy was also his future boss. What a disaster. 

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 4

Word Count: 2048 || Read on AO3

Tags/Warnings: Batman, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Open/Ambiguous End, Injury, Referenced Violence/Violent Acts, Family Feels, Implied/Possible Death

me, chanting: father-son feelings, father-son feelings, father-son fee--

Jason looked between the window and the locked door, determined to ignore the flickering, orange glow peeking in through the gap between it and the floor. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he spared a look at Bruce, half-slumped and wheezing softly against an alarmingly warm wall midway between the two. They’d trudged up the stairs earlier, Bruce limping and leaning most of his weight on Jason, in an attempt to hide out and recover after their mission had gone tits up in the most spectacular ways. A real prize winner, he thought to himself, derisive and sarcastic.

He sucked in a shuddering breath and tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling, sorely missing the familiar weight of his helmet — abandoned after some now-toothless idiot had smashed it to pieces. The fault, he knew, lay at his feet if Bruce died. It almost made him laugh. Maybe he would have, if he’d ever really wanted Bruce dead, back before he’d wormed his way back into the family’s mostly-good graces.

“Fuck,” he growled, dropping his head down to drag a gloved hand roughly, painfully, through his hair. “Ten story fall, or trial by fire?” he asked Bruce, knowing the Bat could barely hear him, let alone parse out what, exactly, he’d said. A few hits to the head with a blunt object would do that to a guy, no matter their bull-headed, mile-wide stubborn streak.

Never one to let an injury get in his way or find a way to prove Jason wrong, Bruce managed to muster up a rumbling grumble in response that sounded, to him, a lot like “try harder.” He huffed, shooting the barely conscious man a mild glare. Not that Bruce deserved it much, at least not this time. This time the fault lay primarily at Jason’s feet — a mixture of bad intel, overconfidence, and his inability to pass up any chance to rile the Batman up. Bruce’s only real error in their situation had been trusting Jason enough to not be an overly paranoid asshole just this once, leaving them locked in a room with no working comms, no backup, not a single one of their gadgets still intact — the ones those assholes hadn’t taken at least — and two incredibly awful options for escape.

Or, he mused, death. But Jason wasn’t too keen on giving that experience another go.

He groaned, the acrid smell of smoke wafting in from under the door growing slowly stronger with every passing minute, and started to pace a straight line from window to door and back again. Every so often he stopped — to breathe, to reach for his pistols wishing he could shoot his way out of their situation, to check on Bruce, to think — before picking the trail back up, seemingly intent on wearing a hole through the linoleum flooring.

Every so often his thoughts strayed to things that might help him in a day or two, after he and Bruce were safe, but did nothing for him now. Who started the fire? Had they been found? Was his luck just that shitty, that the first place he’d chosen to hide out in just so happened to light up? It was a struggle to wrangle them back to something useful or productive, but he managed. Mostly.

There had to be another angle he couldn’t see, anything at all he might have missed. But there was nothing. No matter how hard or how often he looked into every nook or cranny or upended piece of old, rotting furniture, there was nothing.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his fist in some shoddy desk he’d shoved over at some point earlier and earned himself nothing more than a dull throb of pain. It didn’t even help cool him off which just further fanned the flames — hah! — of his anger, the core of it a molten, leaden thing, suffocating and sparking in the pit of his chest.

He stomped back to the window, peered out through the cracked, still-cool glass, and sighed, doing his inadequate best to expel as much anger and frustration as he could with his breath.

It’ll be fine, he told himself, unsure if he really believed it.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __

Every inch of Bruce’s body hurt, some of it so badly he coudn’t feel it at all.

He sucked in a wheezing, rattling breath and shifted just enough to see Jason at the window, forehead pressed against the glass. He gritted his teeth, frustrated but not bothering to waste what little energy he could spare on wishing their circumstances were any different. Instead, he poured it into standing, using every ounce of that bullheadedness he was so known for to force himself, however shakily, to his feet.

Every step forward was agony and the room, more gray than color by then, swayed nauseatingly as he made his slow way across the stretch of room that lay between him and his son.

His son.

Those words pulled at a small, shuttered part of Bruce’s heart. Jason had been the second child he’d taken in, almost a teenager by then, but he’d been the first Bruce had been able to refer to, loud and proud, as his son. He remembered Alfred and Jason both teasing him for how brightly he’d grin as he said it, the words sweet as honey on his tongue: “My son.”

He’d watched his son die, once.

He staggered, exhaustion dragging at his every limb those final few steps until he stood, quietly heaving for breath, just behind Jason who didn’t notice him until he reached up to grab his shoulder with one heavy, gauntleted hand.

Bruce would not stand by and watch his son die again.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __

Jason startled when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, weak fingers curling into his battered jacket. He whirled around, tense and ready for a fight, only to find Bruce there, panting softly and swaying in place. The sight of him — pale, sweaty, breathless, and hunched — made his his stomach twist uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, unsure if he wanted to scream at or scold Bruce for being an injured idiot, or help the poor man sit his ass down and breathe only to have the decision ripped out of his hands.

“Jay,” Bruce rasped, breathy and strained and so unnaturally quiet that Jason ached.

He swallowed, a bitter mix of saliva and regret, and reached out to grab Bruce’s forearms, hoping to steady him at least a little. Bruce sagged, just slightly, when his weight wasn’t his own to bear anymore. Jason couldn’t help but squeeze his arms, a slight pressure meant to offer what silent reassurance and comfort he knew, deep down into the core of him, he’d never be able to say aloud.

“You shouldn’t be standing, old man,” he said instead of the myriad of things he wanted to, but never would. Bruce offered him a tight, wobbly smile — the kind Jason hadn’t really seen on his face since before the Joker and the warehouse and his first, explosive death.

“Jay,” Bruce said again, his every word slow and measured in a way that could have been intentional, or a result of how much pain he was in. “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Jason blinked, feeling a little too much like his brain had short-circuited.

“Wh— I.” He grimaced. Swallowed. Felt a sudden surge of prickling static buzzing under his skin, close to but not quite like the rush of adrenaline that came before a fight. “Yeah,” he finally managed to say, strangled and pitchy. “Yeah, Bruce. I trust you. Always have,” he added, low enough that he hoped Bruce hadn’t even heard it.

Bruce nodded, head jerking up and down like it hurt to move his neck that way. Jason’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, meant to ask what the hell was going on, only to snap his jaw shut when Bruce’s hands pressed against his chest. He wondered, brief and panicked, if Bruce was having trouble staying upright and tried to adjust his grip on Bruce’s arms accordingly.

“How long of a fall?” Bruce asked, sudden but sounding almost bored even as the words were a struggle to get out. Jason’s lip curled, a small spark of anger dousing some of his concern as Bruce’s line of continued questions gave him whiplash.

“Ten stories at least, but—”

“I saw … water?”

“Yeah,” Jason growled, annoyed at being cut off and not understanding where Bruce was trying to lead him. Because he was leading. Jason had known the man too long not to recognize that tone of voice, even pained and wheezy as it currently was. “Ocean, right off the cliff,” he said, half-falling into the familiarity of reporting to the Bat. “Bad building design to have it so close to the edge, but I figure that might be why it’s abandoned.” He shrugged. “It’d be a good way out if you angled it right, but…”

But you’re too injured and I’d never make it carrying you, he thought but didn’t say. Bruce seemed to understand regardless.

Slowly, painfully, Bruce reached up and pulled back his cowl. Jason hissed at the damage: most of it bruises, a few cuts, one eye nearly swollen shut, and the very clear impression of the pair of hands that had tried to strangle him wrapped around his neck. With that same hand, Bruce reached out to briefly touch Jason’s cheek, good eye crinkling as his lips twitched up into another, probably painful, smile.

“Proud of you,” Bruce murmured, the words a little slurred. Jason reared back, flinching like Bruce had struck him instead of telling him … that.

“What’re you—” he started only for Bruce to pat the side of his face. Twice. Two gentle, trembling taps that made Jason feel all of thirteen and no taller than Bruce’s chest instead of a man standing eye-to-eye with, if not a little taller than, the person who’d been his father, once. Was his father, still, even if Jason refused to acknowledge it even to himself.

“Proud of you,” Bruce repeated. Paused. Then: “Love you, Jay.”

Tears pricked, sudden and awful, at his eyes. A million words and feeling stuck in his throat, all jumbled together and conspiring to make it impossible for him to speak. Anger and confusion and bitterness at first, all familiar and easy to put a name to. But then: a gooey sort of tingling warmth that spread up from his stomach, so much harder to name and overwhelming on top of that.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason snarled, letting himself fall back on the familiar anger he’d relied on for years, and finding it easier than trying to shape the only other words he could have possibly used in the face of that — Confession? Admission? Declaration? None of it felt quite right, and he didn’t have the time to sort his thoughts out just then. Nor did he want to. “What’re you playing at, Bruce? ‘Cause I’m not fuckin’ laughing here.”

“Hold your breath.”

“What?”

It happened so fast.

One moment Jason stood in front of Bruce with his back to the window and the next he was in the air, watching Bruce — His Father — shrink, smaller and smaller until he was just a smudge of black against the bright, burning light of a building being slowly consumed. He didn’t scream. Didn’t think. His body moved automatically, years of training kicking in without so much as a conscious thought from him.

He still hit the water wrong.

It surged up around him, frigid, violent waves swallowing him hungrily as he fought down the urge to scream and worked instead on finding his way to the surface. He didn’t think about anything but moving through the current, gritting his teeth against the sharp, mind-numbing pain in his lower body, and did his best not to drown. Not to die. Not now that he had a goal to strive for in the neat little checklist he arranged in his head as he sank: a shore to find, a cliff-face to climb, and an idiot of a father to punch in the face.

And Jason was nothing if not a goal-oriented bastard with a stubborn streak to rival the Bat’s.

[mamabearcatfanfics]

It was already written, so I didn’t have to keep you in suspense for long. Here’s Part Two of Song and Dance Man. You can read the first part here, or go read the whole thing on AO3. Enjoy!

🎵

When Kagome had lifted her heavy head from her pillow the next morning and looked at her phone, there were ten messages. One from Shiori, one from Sango, and eight from Inuyasha.

She let her head flop back on the pillow, deciding not to open any of them yet. She wasn’t hiding, not exactly. This morning, she just wanted to pretend for a little while that everything was okay, have a quiet breakfast with her family, who she hadn’t seen for nearly a month, and then deal with the fall out.

The message from Shiori would no doubt be calm and caring. Sango’s message would also be caring, but she was pretty sure it would not be calm. And Inuyasha. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what to think. She’d put that in ‘after breakfast Kagome’s’ problem pile. Right now, she felt like crap, her period had finally arrived, and she needed to stand under a hot shower for at least, forever.

So she dragged herself to the bathroom and took some pain relief, had a shower, rummaged in her childhood bedroom for any clean clothes that still fit and found a pair of cut off jean shorts and a t-shirt from drama club that proclaimed Theatre is my Sport, then walked downstairs to the kitchen to sit listlessly at the table.

Grandpa read the paper, flicking the pages noisily every time he turned a page, making comments on various stories that no one replied to. Mama bustled around in the background, insisting on making her a cooked breakfast even though she’d said she wasn’t hungry. Souta clomped around noisily, calling out to Mama as he tried to find all the missing parts of his soccer uniform and put them in his bag for his game that morning.

Mama slid a plate in front of her and Kagome stared down at the single fried egg on toast as it glared at her accusingly. She deserved to be glared at. She had fought with Inuyasha. She had yelled at him, even after he’d been nothing but kind all morning at her bad mood, hurling her words at him like arrows, aiming to wound. Do you even care at all? Or are you just in it for the sex?! She felt the small amount of appetite she’d had leave her.

The back of Kagome’s eyes prickled with unshed tears, and she stabbed at the egg viciously with her fork, watching the yolk ooze out onto the toast. She should have known things were going too well.

Every few months, her period threw her a curve ball where her emotions got entirely out of whack and she became a paranoid anxious overthinking mess. If it happened when she was working at the theatre and they weren’t too busy, Jakotsu usually sent her home, recognising she wouldn’t be at her best. He jokingly called her mood swings her ‘little demon’ which made some of the youkai members of the crew roll their eyes, but it was true. She felt like an entirely different person when it happened, almost like she was watching someone else use her voice and say things she wouldn’t usually ever say out loud.

It had been so much worse this month, a slowly building feeling of anxiety and paranoia ever since she’d had the Depo Provera shot, wanting to try a birth control that was impossible to forget now she was in a relationship. Her doctor had been asking her to keep a diary of her symptoms, but she kept forgetting, and now look what had happened.

Sometimes Inuyasha said things without thinking. She knew that. He’d just been teasing her. And usually she’d just roll her eyes at him and tease him back, and they’d have a playful argument that led to a tickle fight or something a lot more hands on. But yesterday, she’d taken his words and twisted them. She could see that now. Yesterday, it had felt like her anxiety was looking for reasons to tear the world down around her. That look on his face – she’d hurt him. She had ruined everything.

She loved Inuyasha, even though sometimes he wasn’t the easiest man to love. He was a logical, practical person with a body to die for, who felt safest when he had order and control in his life. It was easy to see he was used to living alone, and sharing his personal space with her still threw him for a loop sometimes. He could be a little grumpy. A little obnoxious. A genuine diamond in the rough who carefully guarded his emotions. He was more a man of action than words, and she could appreciate that. But his sweet nature had been gradually revealed by the caring things he did for her, no matter how gruff his exterior could be sometimes.

She adored him. She’d never dated a hanyou before, and that came with a few extra complexities compared to being with a human, but she had grown to love his youkai traits. The way his ears told her how he was feeling. The way his pupils dilated when he was aroused. The way he took it upon himself to see to her physical needs, wanting to feed her, touch her, care for her. The way he relished how she smelled, how she tasted. He was a much more physical partner than she’d ever had before, and she loved it. How a simple touch from him, a spoken word in that low rumble could fill her with desire. In his hands, she felt cherished, desirable, wanted. She’d always thought she’d had a fairly average libido before, but with Inuyasha… she felt insatiable.

She’d had a couple of girl talks with Inuyasha’s friend Sango about him, and she'd hinted at a troubled childhood without giving any details. After that, Kagome had decided she wouldn’t push him out of his comfort zone before he was ready. He’d probably had to deal with so much growing up, and it was easy to deduce that he found talking about emotions difficult. That was okay, not everyone was good at that, he more than made up for his lack of words with his physical attentiveness and the way he looked at her. She could read the way he felt in those golden eyes.

To her delight, just recently he’d started to share things with her all on his own, just little details here and there, about his Mama or his Pop, family traditions they’d had when he was small, and she’d treated those tiny pieces of information like the gifts they were. And now look what she’d done. He’d probably never share his thoughts like that with her again.

It felt like there was a tight band around chest, making it hard to breathe properly. Her back was stiff from a night of tossing and turning, her lower belly twisted with cramps now that her period had finally arrived, along with a thumping headache that made her head heavy. She hoped the painkillers she’d taken in the bathroom would kick in soon.

The doorbell rang, adding to the family noise in the kitchen, and Souta ran to answer it, a piece of toast clutched in his hand. He was expecting a teammate who was getting a lift to the soccer game with him and Mama, and they heard him call out excitedly from the front room as he opened the door. Her mother sat down at the other end of the table.

“What are your plans for today, Kagome?” she asked absently, stirring her tea.

All Kagome wanted to do was go back to Inuyasha. Touch Inuyasha. Be with Inuyasha. But first they would have to have a Talk. Would he be like her previous boyfriends, and dump her for being ‘difficult’? Kagome sighed and slumped back in her chair. She shouldn’t have run yesterday, but she’d felt like a passenger in her own body, and had been frightened she would say something even more unforgivable than she already had.

Instead of going back to her apartment, she had caught a bus to the other side of the city to her childhood home, rushing in the door to fall into her mother's arms to sob hysterically, and had then taken some painkillers to dull what felt like an oncoming cluster headache and gone straight to bed before dinner.

“My plans? Oh nothing much. Mostly eating humble pie”, said Kagome dejectedly, pouring herself another cup of tea and pushing the impaled egg off to one side with a grimace.

Her mother lifted her head at that and inspected her daughter over the top of her teacup. “It’s going to be alright you know”, she said with a gentle smile, but before Kagome could ask her what she meant, Souta wandered back in, still eating his toast.

‘It wasn’t Kenji, it’s some guy for you, Kagome,’ he said vaguely.

‘Me? But nobody knows I’m here.” Puzzled, Kagome pushed back her chair and went to the door.

And there was Inuyasha. Her heart leapt with joy and the world, which had been dully monochrome and all askew, abruptly righted itself and sprang back into colour, just like the moment Dorothy had opened the door and found herself in Oz.

“Inuyasha?!”

She drank in the sight of him on the doorstep. He was looking more dressed up than she’d ever seen him, wearing an open-necked button shirt and jacket, his hair braided neatly. Even his jeans seemed to have no holes, and his black motorcycle boots looked polished. But otherwise he was indisputably, wonderfully Inuyasha. Her eyes roved over the austere angles of his face, his amber eyes and pointed silver ears, the stern mouth that made her knees go weak, the quiet solidity of him.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms and apologise profusely, but the strained look in his eyes, the tautness around his mouth, made her pause.

“Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Fine.” Inuyasha cleared his throat. “Yeah it’s…uh, fine. I just came by because…um, I wondered if you had a balcony”, he finished in a rush.

Kagome’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“A balcony?”

“Yeah. A balcony. Do you?”

Was this a peculiarly vivid dream? He seemed solid enough, standing there in a shirt and jacket she didn’t even know he possessed, his neatly braided hair revealing every nervous twitch of his ears.  

“There’s a back verandah”, she said cautiously, blinking up at him.

“That’ll do. Can we go there now?” he asked tensely. “If you’re not too busy that is?”

Kagome stared at him. “Inuyasha, are you sure you’re all right? You’re behaving very strangely.”

He huffed. “I know”, he said, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. “It’s just there’s somethin’ I need to do before I lose my nerve.”

“And this something needs to be done on our back verandah?” said Kagome slowly. He nodded.

She stood aside and Inuyasha stepped past her into the house. Maybe she was still asleep, and this was some sort of lucid dream brought on by those painkillers she’d taken last night. It definitely felt surreal. She blinked slowly and pinched herself, but he was definitely still there. Kagome led him down the hall and through the kitchen to the back door, ignoring Mama and Grandpa’s intense discussion about the need to clean out the storage shed, interspersed with polite requests to pass the tea.

“Well, here we are on the back verandah”, she said cautiously, wondering what might happen next. This day wasn’t turning out at all like she thought it would.

Inuyasha looked around anxiously and then gestured towards the old-fashioned swing seat that her father had made for her mother when she was a little girl. The paint was faded and peeling and it listed slightly to one side because the chains hanging from the beams were a little off centre.

“Sit down”, he said as he steered Kagome towards it.

“Inuyasha, what’s going on?” She watched as he walked down the two steps to the lawn and moved to stand in front of her, almost treading on her mother’s petunias, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“Just… don’t interrupt.” He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. And then closed it again.

“What is it? Can I help?” she asked, twisting he fingers together. Kagome was getting really worried. Had he come all the way across town in his best clothes to dump her and now felt unable to go through with it?

Inuyasha cleared his throat savagely. “Sorry”, he said. “I’ll get it this time.” Another breath and then, to Kagome’s astonishment, he began to sing.

 You were meant for me I was meant for you!

Kagome’s eyes blurred with sudden tears. It was unmistakably You Were Meant for Me from Singing in the Rain. His voice was actually quite pleasant, a deep baritone that went off key a little here and there as he hit the higher notes, but mostly rang true. And then, when she thought she couldn’t be any happier, he began dancing! True, Inuyasha was no Gene Kelly, but he was definitely shuffling from side to side and every now and then he even tried a twirl.

 Nature patterned you, an' when she was done You were all the sweet things rolled into one!

His expression wasn’t really that of a lover delivering a heartfelt sentiment. It was intent, frowning as he tried to remember the words and coordinate his dance steps. Once he found himself facing the wrong way, and had to turn round hastily and pick up his routine again.

 You're like a plaintive melody That never lets me free

And then he was holding out his hand, inviting her to dance with him, drawing her up from the seat and leading her down the steps to the garden.

 I'm content, the angels must have sent you And they meant you just for me!

Smiling through her tears, she let him swing her round until he came to a halt with a flourish, looking into Kagome’s eyes at last with a mixture of relief, trepidation and excruciating embarrassment. Even the tips of his white pointed ears were red.

“Inuyasha,” she said, starry-eyed. “You were singing. And dancing.”

He coughed, then smiled at her hesitantly. “I’m not very good, I know. But I-“ She pushed her fingers over his lips to stop him talking.

“That was the best version of You Were Meant For Me I’ve ever heard.” Her voice cracked a little as she stood on tiptoe to put her arms around his neck. “The very best”, she whispered, “and I should know because I’ve heard it a lot.”

He gave her a relieved grin and pulled her close, leaning down for a kiss. But before their lips met, there was a burst of applause from the back door. Kagome’s family, evidently distracted from breakfast by Inuyasha’s singing, were beaming broadly and clapping. Souta whistled.

“Excellent! Very well done!” said Grandpa.

“Kagome’s always needed someone who will dance with her”, said her mother when Kagome introduced Inuyasha to them.

“I’m not really much of a dancer”, he confessed sheepishly, glancing down at Kagome with a blush.

“You looked like you were doing fine to me”, said Grandpa, which just went to show how much he knew about dancing.

Her mother, it appeared, knew more about what had happened yesterday than Kagome had thought.

“I have to admit young man, I had my doubts when you called me yesterday evening. When my daughter arrived here she was very unhappy”, she said, regarding Inuyasha with the severity she reserved for shoppers at the fruit market that squeezed the avocados hard and then put them back. And then she smiled. “But, you seem to have redeemed yourself. Welcome to the family.” Kagome giggled at Inuyasha’s wide eyed expression.

“We don’t like Kagome being unhappy”, her grandfather added. “She was born for laughter.” He broke off as the doorbell rang and her mother clicked her tongue as she checked the time on the kitchen clock.

“That’ll be your friend, Souta. You’d better let him in and then finish getting your soccer kit organised, we need to leave in fifteen minutes.” She turned back to Kagome and Inuyasha with a twinkle in her eye. “If there are to be any more song and dance routines, you’ll have to keep the noise down, I’m afraid, unless you want a larger audience.”

“I think once was enough”, said Inuyasha ruefully. He took Kagome’s hands as her family disappeared. “Was… once enough, Kagome?”

“Yes”, she said, her fingers tightening around his. She knew just how much that dance must have cost him. “Oh, Inuyasha, I can’t believe you did that for me! Especially after yesterday.”

“It was the only way I could think of to tell you how much I love you”, he said softly, stroking back her fringe. “I remembered what you said once about your job. That even though everyone in the company works hard to put a show together, being part of the backstage crew is always faceless because the audience is only there to see the actors shine. I wanted to show you that you’ll always shine like a star to me.”

Kagome’s throat was so tight, she could hardly talk. “Inuyasha…” was all she managed to choke out.

“I love you, Kagome”, he said, his eyes locked on hers. “If you want me to sing and dance for you every day, I will.” He grinned a little, one fang poking over his bottom lip. “You never know, I might even get better at it.”

“You don’t need to do that”, said Kagome, finding her voice at last. Drawing her hands free, she reached up and put them on his shoulders, feeling his strength and his solidity. “You don’t need to dance for me, or sing for me, Inuyasha. You just need to be you. You just need to be there. You just need to love me.”

“Now that, I can do”, said Inuyasha, so obviously relieved that a daily song and dance routine would not be required that she laughed, giddy with happiness. He laughed too and kissed her soundly, lifting her up and swinging her wildly around in a circle. Wild joy surged along her veins, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. The kisses didn’t get too heated, both of them very conscious that they were standing in her mother’s garden and could have an audience at any moment. But the promise of heat was there, and Kagome shivered in anticipation.

“I missed you”, she mumbled at last between kisses.

“I missed you too. You were gone for less than a day and it felt like a year.” He held her tightly, and she leant against him with a great sigh of contentment. “My apartment sounded so empty without you singing in it. I had to leave that damn musical running to fill up the silence.”

“Really?” giggled Kagome, delighted. “So that’s where you learnt the words! And how did you work out the dance routine?”

“Ah.” Inuyasha breathed out a deep sigh. “That was Jakotsu. When you wouldn’t answer your phone, I kinda panicked. Shiori said you didn’t go home, and Sango didn’t know where you were either. I called the theatre to see if you were there, and Jakotsu answered. When he worked out who I was, he made me tell him everything. And when he asked what I was going to do to win you back and I said I was going to sing for you, he said I couldn’t do it without a dance routine too. Made me come to the theatre to learn one. Longest fucking night of my life.”

Kagome giggled even harder. “He probably enjoyed himself.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “He said that if you were prepared to talk to me after seeing the way I danced, you must really love me.”

“He’s right”, said Kagome, standing on tiptoe to kiss him again.

“Now you know why I was so nervous when I arrived. I was terrified I would lose my nerve.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. That’s a song and dance routine I’ll never forget.” Her smile faded. “Seriously, I know how hard that was for you, Inuyasha.”

“I felt pretty stupid. But sometimes, taking a risk and letting go means you can win everything you’ve ever wanted. And I want you Kagome. I want this relationship to work. If you feel I’m taking you for granted, please tell me. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before. I’ve just lived alone for so long, sometimes I forget. I'll make an effort to ask you more about your day, and the very next show at the theatre, I’ll buy a front row ticket. I know I’m not very romantic, but if you like, we could start going out for dinner. I could bring you flowers…”

Kagome shook her head, smiling. “It’s okay. I don’t need flowers. And I don’t need by the book romance. Your dance routine… now that was romantic. All I need someone who’s prepared to take a risk for me, someone who’ll grit his teeth and make a fool of himself to show me that he loves me.”

“And I need someone who’ll make me laugh and push me out of my comfort zone and make me feel”, said Inuyasha, gathering her into him for a long, sweet kiss, then sighing in contentment as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

“So, about yesterday”, he asked carefully. “Are you feeling better today?” Kagome sighed.

“I am so, so sorry about yesterday”, she said. “I started on a new type of birth control, an injection instead of the pills I usually take, and I think it’s not a good fit for me. I’ve never felt that out of control before. I think I need to go back to my doctor and discuss it.”

“Would you mind if I came too when you have your appointment? So I know what’s going on? You really worried me yesterday Kagome", he said seriously, stroking her cheek. "I didn’t know what to do.”

“You would do that?”

Inuyasha scoffed. “Well, it’s not like you’re taking the birth control just for you”, he said, a light dusting of red on his cheeks. “And if it’s makin’ you feel bad, I want to know the right things to do.”

In the garden, a blackbird started to sing, a pure trill of joy. Kagome felt the sunshine on her shoulders and Inuyasha’s warm arm around her, and when she pressed her face into his throat and breathed in the scent of his skin, she thought she would shatter with happiness.

“I think I feel a song coming on”, she whispered, snuggling her head under his chin.

“Yeah?” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, feel it as he kissed the top of her head. “I don't mind that. Just as long as it’s a duet.”

[youngerdrgrey]

a choice for the choiceless // a Batwoman, post-2x15 fic

about: Post 2x15, the ladies of the Bat Team try to help their friend, who seems almost resentful to be alive. How do you help someone when they’re in a place like this? + read on ao3

Notes: there was a lot in 2x15 (“Armed and Dangerous”), and this is partially me processing my own feelings, as well as everyone else’s. Spoilers below for that episode, as it picks up close after. Features the whole of our Bat Team; some Hamilfox and hints of Wildmoore feels here as well

Content Warnings: brief talk of suicidal ideology, hopelessness, and systemic violence against Black people

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Luke stares out the window at The Hold Up. His shoulders cave inwards, and his neck strains to make up for the fact that he hasn’t totally turned towards the light. He watches it though. Tracks the people on the street while Sophie crosses back over to him with their coffees.

It’s been three days since Luke woke up from his coma. Sophie hasn’t spent a lot of time with him since then. Mostly, she talks with Jacob about what a new version of the Crows would require. She texts with Mary and Ryan, who swear that Luke will be back to his old self any day now. But Sophie wants to see for herself how he’s doing.

She sets his hot cup in front of him. The steam slips from the top of it. He glances over and nods his thanks in her direction.

Sophie starts light. “I’ve been meaning to congratulate you. You and Ryan really had me going when I ‘introduced’ you that day.” They’d pretended not to know each other, which gave Ryan a chance to poke fun at Luke. “I should’ve known you were joking. You don’t seem like a sweet drinks kind of guy.”

Luke picks up his cup. “I’m not.”

“Not the talkative kind of guy either?” she asks. Luke sighs into the top of his cup. Sophie offers a smile. “Hey, totally fine. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Probably about as good as you,” he says. His nostrils flare before he swipes under his nose. “Kate’s gone. Your mom won’t talk to you. The Crows are completely dismantled. In a few short months, you’ve essentially lost everything that you’ve spent your whole life working towards. How are you, Soph?”

On edge, with that list.

Sophie shifts back in her seat to get away from the cold facade that’s taken over Luke. She sips her own drink to buy a moment to process. He doesn’t mean to be blunt. He’s deflecting rather than talking about himself, but if Sophie can say the right thing, then maybe her words can help him out too.

“I’m… managing. I would much rather see all of this as a chance to start over.” At least that’s how she’s trying to see things. “Jacob’s getting clean. Ryan and I aren’t constantly fighting. She actually sat next to me on the couch yesterday without comment, so…. There's good stuff happening too. It’s not just a loss.”

Luke meets her eyes for a moment, but the warmth and curiosity that’s normally there is gone. Snuffed out. He takes another swig of his coffee, then sets the empty cup back onto the table.

“Glad to hear it,” he deadpans. “I’ll see you at the office.”

He pushes his chair back, and Sophie can’t find the words to tell him to stop. He walks off without another look at her. Sophie grabs her phone from her bag and calls Ryan.

Ryan speaks immediately. “Hey, how is he?”

Sophie sighs. “He’s still off.”

A walk sign beeps on Ryan’s end of the call. She says, “He came back from the dead. It can take a lot out of someone.”

“You bounced back pretty quick.” If Sophie remembers correctly, Ryan was back on the streets immediately. Sophie mourned Kate, and Ryan as Batwoman tore through the streets to try and take down the False Face Society. She didn’t shut down like this.

“I don’t think we can compare these. I said my goodbyes on that island, but Luke experienced one of the worst fears that we could have. Not to mention the constant think pieces and hashtags and infographics with him at the center. Give him some time. He’ll be fine.”

Luke has been a trending topic since the day of his shooting. Maybe he does only need time. Maybe he’ll snap out of it. But when Alice kidnapped Sophie nearly a year ago, Sophie would wake up from nightmares of being on that beam again. Nightmares where Batwoman didn’t swoop in, or the bomb went off, or Alice simply killed her. Sophie doesn’t have those nightmares much anymore. But sometimes, when she’s really stressed, or feeling extra alone, she can feel the winds whipping around her still.

Sophie clears her throat and clutches her phone a little tighter to her face. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“I’m walking into the Tower right now. We’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

“Says the girl who cried in my arms last week.”

Ryan inhales sharply. “We’re not talking about that.”

Sure thing. They can just gloss over the fact that Ryan sank into Sophie’s arms like it was natural, or that they’d spent nearly ten minutes like that, just holding on and hoping that he would be okay. They’re still holding, even if they won’t admit it.

“Talk to him, Ryan. See if he talks back.”

“I will.”

 .

.

 Ryan puts off having a heart to heart with Luke for a few days. He’s clearly not in the mood. Every time she even tries to talk to him, he shuts her down like it’s her first week in the Bat Team all over again. So, she waits until he’s busy and tries to meet him where he’s at — beating the shit out of the punching bag in the Batcave.

The lights are barely on, so the Cave’s half in shadow. From the moment the elevator descends, all Ryan hears is the thick thud of the punching bag. The quick, hard hits of his bare fists. Luke hops from foot to foot in his fighting stance.

Ryan keeps her voice playful. “Try picking on someone your own size.” She sets him up with that. He’s got quite a few inches on her. He’d called her pocket size a few months back when she tried to show how threatening she could be outside of the suit.

But this version of Luke doesn’t even look at her. His whole body’s glistening with sweat at this point, and he grunts out, “I’m good,” before launching into a quick combo on the bag.

Ryan breezes down the catwalk to get to the training area. Closer now, he looks smaller than he used to. Like he’s not eating and instead spends all his time putting on tank tops and joggers and hiding out from the people who care about him. 

She pops into her own fighting stance a few steps out of the danger zone. 

“Well, I’m really good. I don’t mean to brag, but I am teaching multiple martial arts classes.”

He does a spin kick that sends the bag moving a lot further than it used to. How much time has he been spending down here? What’s he preparing for?

Luke steadies the bag. “I don’t want to fight you, Ryan.”

She takes the pause in his practice to grab the other side of the bag. 

“Don’t worry, I can go easy on you. Since you’re still healing and all.” She offers him a teasing smile. His cue to joke back. It might’ve taken them a while to get there, but Ryan and Luke normally play like siblings. She’s never had a brother before him. She doesn’t want to fight either.

He sighs. “Desert rose healed me all up. It’s like it—” He readjusts the wraps on his hands. Finally, he meets her eyes, and the rage in them contradicts how forcibly still his voice sounds. “It’s like it never happened.”

Ryan says, “That’s a good thing, right? You don’t have to worry about scars come summertime.”

Luke jerks his head to the side to tell her to move. Ryan reluctantly lets the bag go, and he gets back to punching. His breath comes out short, but the way he’s hitting feels emotional. Sporadic and pained.

She takes a shaky breath. “Okay, not a good thing. You seem angry. I get anger. You said yourself that I charge into fights that I know I can’t win, and maybe that’s what I’m doing with you.” She has to talk louder over his increased punching speed. “If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. If you want to scream, then we can scream. But this silent brooding thing isn’t you, Luke.”

His head whips around to face her. The bag nearly hits him back as he scoffs at her. “You’ve known me less than a year. You have no idea who I am. Or what I want.”

She reaches her hands out to him. “Then tell me,” she pleads. “Because I want my friend back.”

The fire in his eyes gives way to something hollow. Something aching. He gulps. “Well, you got him.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it,” she says. His jaw twitches, and his nostrils flare. “Wait…. Are you sad about being back?”

Luke starts unwrapping his hands. “I’m fine, Ryan.”

She crosses over to get directly in his face. “But are you happy? Are you upset? Are you—”

“I’m fine!” he yells. His voice echoes through the Batcave, and Ryan flinches. He takes a second to drop his eyes before storming straight for the elevator. He calls over his shoulder. “You can tell Sophie that too.”

Ryan waits until he’s inside the elevator to reply. “What about Mary? You want me to lie to her too?”

Luke’s face crumbles. Then he steadies it back to stone. “Tell her whatever you want. I can’t stop you.” He flips the switch to leave.

Ryan screams because she knows he’ll hear it. Throws her weight behind a punch that sends the bag rattling on its chain.

 .

.

 “See,” Sophie holds her glass up for Ryan to refill, “I told you.” She frowns as she says it, which does make her normal righteousness less pronounced. The fact that she’s curled into herself on Ryan and Mary’s couch also helps lessen the blow.

Ryan dumps the last of their shared wine bottle into Sophie’s glass before plopping the bottle onto the coffee table. She settles back into her half of the couch.

Mary speaks up from her seat in the comfy chair. “What else can we do? If he’s not talking to any of us, or a therapist, then how are we supposed to get Luke back?”

Sophie shrugs. 

Ryan suggests, “We could reach out to Stephanie. Maybe a nerd date will help Luke feel better.”

Mary says, “Just because you started dating Imani immediately after—”

Ryan cuts in, “I didn’t date her immediately after—”

Mary gets louder. “Yeah, you kind of did. Angelique left on the 3:15 train out of Gotham, and Imani came in at 3:30.” She rubs the tense spot between her eyebrows. “No judgment, but maybe that’s not the answer.”

Ryan glances to Sophie for a little support, but the ex-Crow finds her wine real interesting around then. Ryan should defend herself. She dated Imani to get out of her head. Angelique was her first love, but she and Ang weren’t meant to be each other’s only relationship. Waiting around wouldn’t have changed the fact that Ang was starting a new life. Ryan had to start one too.

She shifts on the couch, so her knees can tuck under her body better. Her leg bumps into Sophie’s, and neither of them make a move to shift away. Sophie stares down at their point of contact.

“Maybe he just needs to know we’re here for him. We keep showing up, and eventually, he’ll have to talk to us.”

Ryan nods. “In that case, you’re up, Mary.”

Mary sighs into her wine. “No pressure, right?”

 .

.

Mary and Luke don’t hang out a ton in the real world. Usually, they’re in the Batcave when they spend time together. Or he helps her at the clinic. So, she figures that she shouldn’t exactly rock the boat too far.

Luke sits down on one of the exam chairs in the clinic. The whole space is empty, with the closed sign on the front door. He shrugs out of his jacket. She tries not to look as nervous as she feels.

“Thanks for coming down.” She wrings her hands before stopping herself and planting them firmly against her sides. “I wanted to see how the desert rose in your blood compares to mine, or Ryan’s. So, uh, it shouldn’t take too long to do the draw.”

Luke nods. “Sure thing.” He rolls the sleeve of his left arm up. “I’m all yours.”

“Right.” She chuckles, but it’s a breathless kind. The kind that she needs to clear her throat to cover.

The tray’s already prepped beside him with the needle and test tubes. She rolls her own chair to stop beside him. It’s honestly the closest they’ve been since he’s gotten out of the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember her being there. Or what she said about needing him just before he came back. That’s probably too intense of a topic to start with.

She ties a band on his arm to make his veins pop. She wouldn’t need it normally. Luke’s got great veins. Great skin in general. Softer than she’d expect for a guy who spends all his time in the same suit. She actually hasn’t seem him in casual clothes that often, come to think of it. Does he own casual clothes?

Luke chuckles. “You’re thinking pretty hard there. First time?”

Mary springs for the needle. “Ha ha. I just… started thinking about… my dad. Because of veins! And Snakebite. He’s, um… doing better?”

He smiles at her, like actually gives a short glimpse of connection. “That’s really good to hear.”

Mary runs with it. “Yeah, and he’s talking about his feelings. And Alice even warned me that somebody might try to hurt me. It’s weird, and I don’t want Alice as my family, but it’s also nice to not feel super alone….” She pricks him then. His face scrunches for a second, and she watches the vial fill up rather than watching his face. “It’s why I’m so grateful to you and Ryan and Sophie. You’ve been my family through all of this. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Luke’s left arm twitches, but it doesn’t feel like a blood thing. More like he wants to reach out with it. She keeps her eyes low and unlatches the first vial. Grabs the second and lets that one fill too.

Luke says, “I guess it’s different for me. I have my mom, but…. Did you know she calls me every single day for check-ins?” He sounds tired but amused. “She sent me an Amazon link for a bulletproof vest yesterday. Never mind the fact that I run Wayne Tech and have literally made a better one in my sleep.” His jaw trembles. “But I get it. She almost lost me in the same exact way that we lost my dad. I-I almost did that to her.”

Mary scrambles to say, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I would have. If… if the choice were up to me, I would not have come back.” He turns to face Mary again. “A-and I love my mom. And I love our team. But I am so tired of being a part of a world like this.”

Her heart crumbles in her chest. The vial nearly overflows, and she has to grab the third one. Her hands shake as she goes for it. Her voice shakes too. “You sound kind of… schmuicidal when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” he says. He sounds sure of that.

“But you want to die?” she asks.

“I don’t want….” He sighs and rephrases. “I just want to be somewhere else sometimes. And this whole thing has made anywhere else seem better. I mean, I was in a coma, Mary, and they were photoshopping a gun into my hand. Why would I want to be here?”

She stops the blood drawing to hold his hand. “I’m here. And Batwoman is here.”

He balls his fist beneath her grip. “And no one’s checking to see if me or Ryan are a part of the team. I’ve spent my whole life doing things the right way, and I am exhausted.”

Mary lifts her other hand to open his fist. She turns his hand so they can be palm to palm, so she can thread her fingers through his and let him feel where she’s at too. Because she might be exhausted for different reasons, but she’s tired too.

“I think it’s okay to be exhausted. And to want a break. But you can’t let all of this break you. And if it feels like it is, then I’d really like to help hold you together.” She smiles at him, and he glances away to blink some of the tears out of his eyes. She lifts her voice to add on, “Preferably with the help of a licensed psychological professional.”

“You’re not licensed, and you save lives.” He squeezes the hand in hers. “You saved me.”

Mary nods. “True, but an actual therapist could help you talk through this stuff without you feeling like you’re going to be judged, or a burden — which you’re not.” She practically scoots out of her seat to be closer to him. Her knees knock into the side of his chair, and she would totally feel ridiculous if not for the fact that he angles his body towards her too. “God, Luke, I am so glad that you’re talking to me. I want to know how you feel and what you’re going through. But I also know that a therapist can put this in a perspective that I can’t. So please consider talking to one?”

He holds her stare for a moment. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Next time you want to talk, you just take me to dinner instead of taking my blood.”

Mary laughs, and Luke laughs too. “Deal.”

 .

.

 Luke’s in the bathroom when Mary texts the girl group chat. 

Mary to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 He sounds better. We’re getting dinner and hopefully he’s getting a therapist.

 Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Great job, Mary.

 Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 That’s my girl! Or Luke’s girl? 👀

 Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Ryan, they’re just getting dinner

 Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 For now ;)

 Mary leaves them on read and stuffs her phone back into her purse. Luke comes back out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Ready to go?”

Mary nods. “Yeah, we’ll find our way back.” It’s the only choice they have.

.

.

.

.

a/n: The hopelessness that Luke feels in this episode and the near constant mix of emotions feel so true to my experiences over the last few years. one thing that they have gotten very right are different aspects of these Black experiences. There’s a lot to work through, and I’ve found that therapy and leaning on friends has been real helpful. Hope that Luke gets that too. Hope that you all have that as well.

Let me know how you’re feeling, re: this, or this season. Talk to me, Gotham. I’ll talk back.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬2

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: Still working a lot but here’s another chapter. I work gaming and the console launches are just killing me for real. Why do (some) gamers have to be idiots?

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You awoke stiff and cold. Your legs were tucked up under your nightgown as the early spring turned frigid in the night and your muscles ached as you fell onto your back. You were still young but you didn’t feel it. The deep snores still rose from the bed as you sat up and the soft light of dawn broke through the curtains.

You suspected that Roy would be just as unpleasant once it came time to rouse him. You got to your feet with a grumble and rubbed your tender stomach. You could feel the bruise and winced as you went to the closet to gather your clothes for the day. The usual; a plain blouse and dull skirt. Then you took a pair of old nylons, some underwear and your brassiere from the chest of drawers.

You wrapped yourself in a robe and crossed to the washroom to quickly clean yourself up before you dressed. You stared in the mirror, your eyes puffy with fatigue. You sighed and dumped your robe and nightgown in the bedroom before you continued on downstairs.

If there was anything that would placate your husband, it was food. Since your wedding day, he had put on quite a few pounds, not that he had ever been particularly slim. He had also aged more than three years of your union, though he was ten years your senior already. Well, your father and mother had about the same difference between them; it was far from unusual.

You took out your iron pan and placed it on the stove, a relic of the Depression era but still able to catch a flame. Your father was always proud of his old appliances. Before you were born and in the early years of your life, he’d worked hard to build not only the farmhouse but a home for his young family. Those years before the war had remained his most precious until the end.

You took out the tray of eggs and the small sausages bartered at a discount from the butcher. You hated to think of replacing the puttering fridge but you doubted it would hold up another couple decades. That in itself would be a battle with Roy. He worked hard for his money. It was difficult enough to negotiate a pair of nylons without holes from the terse man you called your husband.

You were startled as you heard a footboard whine. You turned and accidentally cracked an egg onto the floor as you did. Arvin was dressed in jeans and a plain tee. His overalls were slung over his arm as he entered.

“You’re up already?” You asked as you bent to clean up your mess. “Hope it’s not ‘cause of me.”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” he assured you, “Need any help with that?”

“No, no,” you stood with the egg and shell in your hand, “I think I can manage.” You went to the bin and dumped your handful. “You drink coffee? Orange juice?”

“I wouldn’t mind some milk, if it isn’t too much a bother,” he smiled. “But I can fetch it myself.”

“You don’t have to--”

“You keep saying that. I respect that this is your house, ma’am, and you’re used to doing all the upkeep but I don’t mind at all.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. You wiped your hand on a dish cloth and went back to adding eggs to the mixing bowl. You listened to his footsteps as they continued onto the dining room and he returned to search for a glass among the cupboards.

“Here,” you reached up and opened the cabinet, “Milk’s on the middle shelf in the fridge.”

He neared and grabbed a tall glass from the rows. He was awfully close as he did. He set the glass down on the counter and went to the fridge. You listened as he struggled with the handle.

“You gotta wiggle it. Don’t be afraid to put some muscle into it.” You chuckled.

The door popped open and you heard him grunt. You whisked up the eggs as he approached with the milk jug and filled his glass. He paused as he watched you work. A long silence rose between you, interrupted only by the clink of the whisk on the bowl.

“You got any laundry?” You asked suddenly. “I can manage another load today.”

“If it’s not too much,” he lifted the jug and slowly backed away, “The laundromat isn’t much for efficiency. Sometimes I think my shirts come out more stained than before.”

You listened as he put the jug away and took his glass from beside you. You felt his lingering gaze before he left you but ignored it as your tendency to overthink. He was a kind, young man and you had grown unused to that. 

You loved Roy, tried to at least, and you reminded yourself that he hadn’t always been bad. You hoped that he could be good again. Perhaps Arvin could help with that.

You moved stiffly around the stove. Your muscles strained more with each stretch of your arm or bend of your leg. The floor never left you in very good shape and your apron reminded you of the bruise that deepened along your torso.

When the eggs were fluffy and the sausage browned, you climbed the stairs to wake your husband. You stayed in the doorway as you called to him. It was best not to get close when he was hungover. 

He grumbled and threw a pillow. When you reminded him he would be late to work, he lobbed the lamp. It landed a good foot from you but still caused a thunderous thump on the floor before the bulb shattered.

You left him. He would rouse himself and be too late to bother much with you. He would also have an audience to keep him in line.

You went back downstairs and plated the food; you covered Roy’s before you laid it out on the table along with your own and Arvin’s. You sat across from your houseguest as he greedily eyed his breakfast.

“What was that?” He asked as his brown eyes flicked up to the ceiling.

“Silly me,” you twirled your fork nervously, “I tripped over the cord of the lamp and brought the whole thing down.”

Arvin nodded and his cheek twitched. He said nothing as he cut into a sausage and you pushed around your eggs without eating. Your appetite was soured by memories of the previous night. If fate and alcohol favoured you, Roy would not recall it so well.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked suddenly as you tried to distract yourself. “I know the attic gets a bit gusty, walls aren’t very thick and that couch is old…”

“I slept finer than I have in months,” he replied, “Thank you.”

“You’ve been down at the motel, Roy said. You new in town?”

“Was meaning to just pass through,” he swallowed, “But a few odd jobs turned into a full gig down at the garage. I used to fiddle around with my aunt’s truck when I was a kid and… guess I figured a few things out.”

“Oh? And where’s home? Is that where you were headed?”

“Leavin’, actually. Sometimes you just outgrow where you’re from.” He said wistfully, “Life shakes you awake and says ‘go or die’ and you’re too restless to wait around for the inevitable.”

Your mouth fell open. His face had fallen, a lifetime worth of worries and tragedies set in his thin lips and squared his jaw. He looked through you at the past that had chased him all the way to your doorstep. The naive boy fractured before you to the frightened young man. And then, he was gone.

He smiled and was once more firmly sat in the present.

“I know what you mean.” You said quietly.

“So…” He set his fork down, “You from here then?”

“Daddy’s house. Never left it.” You confessed, “Never had the courage to stop waiting, I suppose.”

“You got lots of time for that,” Arvin said, “You know, when life’s seemed to slow down, it starts back up all at once.”

You rubbed your fingertips along the tablecloth. You looked at your plate, your food barely touched.

“You okay? You’re not eating.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, “I didn’t sleep too much…. there’s this shutter that just knocks against the house when it’s windy, you know?”

He leaned back and considered you. He grabbed his glass of milk and drained it.

“So, how long have you and Roy… been married?” Arvin asked.

You heard the stairs creak and stiffened in your seat. You tapped your fork on the lip of the plate and cleared your throat.

“Three years,” you said as Roy’s grumbles grew louder. 

“Oh,” Arvin glanced over as Roy stumbled in and caught himself on a chair. You stood and uncovered his plate as he sat. He waved you away groggily and swiped up his fork. “A long time and not very long at all, then.”

“Mhmm,” you sat and watched Roy nervously. He said nothing as he shoved a whole sausage in his mouth and groaned. 

“Coffee,” he choked out.

You diligently went to the task of pouring him a mug and returned as Arvin watched him with a placid awareness. You set down the cup and Roy emptied it just as fast as it appeared.

“Too much beer, huh?” Arvin chuckled.

Roy tilted his head and gulped down his mouthful. “Maybe you’ll join me tonight,” your husband challenged. “Boy your size, one bottle’ll have you on your ass.”

“Probably,” Arvin said coolly. “Maybe I’m better stickin’ to water.”

You sat gingerly and looked between the two men. You realised how easily Arvin had distracted Roy. How he kept the temperamental man from his usual morning rage with a few words. You wondered if he had dealt with men like Roy before. Or maybe he had no idea what he was doing at all.

“You want me to drive today?” Arvin ventured, “You can close your eyes on the way.”

“Probably best you do,” Roy smacked his lips, “Don’t know I’ll be very useful at the garage.”

“Ah, just keep your head under that old Chevrolet and no one can tell you’re napping,” Arvin laughed at his own joke. “I won’t tell.”

🚬

You filled your day as any. Your chores kept you busy; laundry, sweeping, dusting, prepping dinner for the return of your husband and the houseguest you kept having to remind yourself of.

You made certain to fold Arvin’s clothes and stack them neatly in a basket for him. He didn’t have much; a few pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, two sweaters, and a denim jacket. You would search through your father’s stuff and see if there was anything worth salvaging.

When the old truck rumbled in front of the house, you were shoving a glazed ham into the oven. You wiped your hands on your apron and strode through to peek through the window. Arvin was quicker than Roy, smaller, younger. Your husband stomped across the gravel as the other man kept a deliberately slow pace behind him.

You opened the door to greet them as they neared the porch.

“How was your day?” You asked as you held open the door.

“A day that calls for a beer,” Roy snarled as he brushed past you. You couldn’t remember when he’d stopped kissing you; sometimes, you were certain you’d imagined he ever had. 

“It was good,” Arvin said softly as he smiled at you. Roy ambled into the front room and fell onto the sofa. “How was yours, ma’am?”

“Well enough,” you replied pensively as you watched your husband, “You want a beer too?”

“No, it’s still a bit early… Actually, I’ll get his beer.” Arvin said, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“She can do it herself,” Roy growled. “What else she gonna do around here?”

“I’m goin’ that way anyhow.” Arvin said. “Think I’ll get myself some water.”

“She’s my wife. She can serve me. Well, you would think she could.”

“Please,” you looked to Arvin pleadingly, “Just sit down.”

He stared at you and nodded slowly. His arm jerked as if he was going to touch your elbow but he backed away and turned to drag his feet into the front room.

“I have some Coke?” You offered, “If you prefer that.”

“Water,” Arvin said dully, “Thank you.” 

You slowly retreated but didn’t miss the way Arvin glared at Roy. He sat in the armchair and bit his thumb as he watched the other man. You spun before you could overthink it and scurried into the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and poured a glass of water. You hurried back to offer the refreshments and rung your hands as you hovered in the doorway.

“Your laundry’s on the landing,” you said meekly, “And Roy, I fixed the lamp.”

Roy merely belched as Arvin lifted his chin and sighed.

“Thank you,” Arvin uttered and set aside his glass, “Show me where that bed is and I’ll move it after dinner.”

“I--” You hesitated and looked at Roy fearfully. He was entirely unconcerned with anything but his beer. “Sure.”

Arvin stood and you led him to the stairway. He followed you up and bent to lift the basket from the landing. You turned to him and he was quick to take the clothes from you.

“I didn’t want to go up there without you knowin’,” you said, “Since it’s your space now.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.” He hugged the basket. He pressed his lips together and peered back down the stairs. “Are you alright?”

You frowned as he looked at you again. You turned your hands out and shrugged. 

“I’m just fine.” You lied.

He squinted then his eyes fell to the clothes. “Well, you let me know if you need help. With anything.” He slowly edged away from you, “I might be payin’ Roy but I won’t be living on your hard work, ma’am.”

“I-- It’s my job to--”

“It’s his job to love you, with all due respect,” Arvin set down the basket and grabbed the cord of the attic hatch, “Ain’t no work hard enough at the garage that he can’t do that.” The stairs slid down and he picked up the basket again. He placed a foot on the bottom of the latter as he cradled the laundry in one arm. “I’ll be down for dinner.”

🚬

Several days passed with little change. Arvin barely seemed to affect things around the old farmhouse; he kept to himself mostly but helped where he could. Roy didn’t change either. His moods, his brutality, his demands. As you always had, you distracted yourself with your chores.

On Saturday, Roy announced that he was going fishing. Arvin refused an invitation and it didn’t seem to bother your husband. It did, however, make you wonder. Most men in the area were eager to be away from the homestead with a rod or rifle in hand. Well, it didn’t seem like your houseguest was most men.

You bid Roy goodbye. He was in a happier mood and let you kiss his cheek as he packed up his bait box. When he was gone, you went about your usual. You would sweep and dust the entire house before you started lunch; a small one as Roy took his with him.

When you got to the dining room, Arvin was at the table. He had a small, leather-bound notebook before him as he scribbled in it with a stubby pencil. He smiled as you hit the doorframe with the broom and apologized under your breath. He went back to his work and you went about your own, quietly, carefully.

As you bent to sweep up the dirt into the pan, you looked at him. His reddish-brown hair hung forward, the strands dangled along his nose. You stood and neared the table.

“I don’t know how you see anything,” you remarked.

He lifted his head and his hair tickled his cheeks. He chuckled and closed the notebook around the pencil.

“Guess I’m just used to it,” he said, “Do you ever sit down? Don’t think I could run around like you in those heels?”

You glanced down at your kitten heels. Not very high or fancy. You gripped the broom and leaned on it.

“I just think my feet are naturally curved now,” you kidded. “Sorry, if I interrupted you.”

“No, no, you’re right. I need a haircut,” he pushed his hair back and stretched as he bent his arms behind his head. “Been a while.”

There was silence between you. You weren’t sure why you’d broken it in the first place. Usually, you wouldn’t dare bother Roy. He always had the first word. And the last.

“I cut Roy’s hair. I could do yours.” You were shocked at your own words and snapped your mouth shut bashfully. “Or you could go down to Hannon’s and get him to give you proper trim. I’m just… offerin’.”

“Really?” He sat up, “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m tryna save my money for a car of my own right now. I’ll pay in labour? Got this old batter recipe I learned as a kid. Roy brings back some good fish and we’ll have some filets.”

“You don’t--” You voice died as he gave you that look. How many times had you said those words? ‘You don’t have to do that.’ You took a breath. “Bring a chair in the kitchen and I’ll get the scissors.”

You went to the kitchen and dumped the dustpan. You leaned the broom against the wall and searched for the scissors in the second drawer. You heard Arvin behind you as you took a dish cloth and turned to him. He placed the chair in the middle of the floor and sat.

You tucked the scissors into your apron along with the comb you kept with the old silver shears. You neared him and held up the cloth. “I’m just gonna tuck this into your shirt to catch the hair.”

“That’s fine,” he smiled at you as you bent to wrap the dish cloth around his neck and tucked it into his collar carefully. Your fingers grazed his neck and you saw him tense.

You backed up and took out the comb. 

“Where do you usually part it?”

“I usually just comb it back but then it just kinda… falls,” he snorted bashfully. “So, just wherever.”

You rounded him and combed his hair back before parting it along the left side. It split naturally from his crown and you did your best to be precise. You pulled his hair up with the teeth of the comb and began to cut away the length. The chopped ends fell over the towel and the shoulders of his tee. 

As you came around the front, he watched you with his deep brown eyes. You tried not to fidget against his intent gaze.

“Close your eyes,” you said and he seemed reluctant to do so. You began to snip as you let the hair hang to see the length and lifted it again to cut away more. 

“So, you got any records for the player?” He asked. The question surprised you but eased you.

“My daddy loved Sinatra and Crosby.” You said. “But I don’t suppose many listen to that anymore.”

“Well, some,” he said, “You ever listen to Ray Charles? I was down at the general store and they… they were selling his album at discount.”

“Oh?” You leaned closer as you softened the blunt ends of his hair, “I think… on the radio. Sometimes, I turn it on when Roy’s workin’ but I always make sure to turn it back to his station before he gets home or he--”

You stopped yourself and focused on your task. You didn’t want to mangle his hair. He had such nice hair. Soft and thick.

“Or he what?” Arvin opened his right eye.

“Or, you know… he just gets real upset. The dial on that old thing is so fussy,” you moved around him so the heat receded from your cheeks. “Just don’t want him breakin’ it.”

“You think he’d break it? Over that?” Arvin asked gently.

You chewed the inside of your lip. “No,” you said after a pause, “No, Roy can be grumpy but he wouldn’t…” You sniffed and combed his hair, “Maybe we can dig out some of my daddy’s records when I’m done.”

“Maybe,” he said evenly as he tapped his fingers along his thigh. “A little music might brighten this place up.”

[hazbincalifornia]

Prey

Chapter 26: Hunting is fun, right?

Warnings: Mpreg, canon-typical violence.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Why are you wearing a coat?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow as he lowered his binoculars, and Blitzo growled from low in his throat, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Because I’m cold? Seems pretty obvious to me, Moxx.” His teeth chattering together like wind-up monkeys agreed.

“It’s seventy-five degrees out. I checked the weather here before we left to be sure it wasn’t raining, and I can feel it. It’s warm out here.”

“I said that I’m cold. Can’t a man know his own body?” Blitzo tugged the coat tighter around his middle- or at least, as much as he could. The bump had, infuriatingly, nearly outgrown the coat, but that was fine, because it was the one spot on him that wasn’t frozen like a tongue on a metal pole. It was practically boiling, actually, suctioning all the heat out of Blitzo’s body like a leech in a black hole and leaving all extremities shivering in a way reminiscent of poor street orphans. Millie reached over to snap off a square of the chocolate bar that Blitzo was holding, and her eyes widened as she brushed his fingers in the process.

“Aw, Moxxie, he’s right, he is cold! He’s-” She paused, concern gathering like storm clouds. “Really cold, actually. Are you sure you should-”

His fingers tightened around the gun in his free hand. “I’m not going home. I’m not letting this shit bench me, nothing has to change until I can shove the little cretin out and figure out what to do with them, got it?” Blitzo swatted at her hand, and she pulled back with her mouth screwed to the side and lips pursed.

“Hmmph. I’m just saying, I don’t really remember Mama or Daddy going through anything like this. I don’t think it’s a normal imp thing, is all, so you don’t know-”

“I know that if I sit at home with nothing to do, I am going to fucking lose it, so chill, alright?”

“Chill is the last thing you need, apparently,” Moxxie grumbled, and Blitzo smacked him with his tail, getting a little yelp out of the smaller imp before Millie stuck a hand over both of their mouths.

“C’mon,” she muttered, “We need to focus, they’re looking our way.”

Blitzo licked her palm, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got four siblings, Blitz, that stopped working on me when I was eight.” Her fingers dug into his cheeks before letting go and he huffed, shuffling on his haunches and stuffing the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth. Already, his stomach was growling again- stupid kid was being even more high-maintenance than usual. For that matter, more everything.

That morning, he’d woken up half-frozen to the bed with blood practically freezing under his skin, his stomach nearly a full inch bigger than it had been the night before with his skin itching like fuck because of it and stretchmarks creeping around the edges to boot. The binge last night must have all gone to plumping the little bastard up or something, because of course it had. (He could still feel where the kid had torn up, but it was manageable now with a handful of painkillers, at least.)

Fortunately, he had a coat in the back of his closet at work from when they’d gone to the arctic to knock off a scientist who’d stolen their target’s research, and he’d gotten it a size too big just in case he’d needed to hide one of the bulky weapons inside.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after the client meeting.

____

“So he just left me there after I checked his gun and it went off.” The client, a deer-form sinner, had raised an eyebrow, camo jacket rustling as he folded his arms with a twitch of his ear. “Hey, how come your little lackey’s in a suit but you aren’t? It’s all unprofessional and shit. You look like a marshmallow.”

Blitzo growled, tugging his (not stretchy enough) shirt down. The light pink fabric bounced back up anyway. Traitor.

“And you ended up in Hell. We all make bad choices sometimes. Just tell me where the fucking gig is, alright?”

____

Blitzo shook his head as the leaves rustled- he needed to focus. He could not become a liability, even though leaving the warmth of Hell for the more temperate heat of Earth chilled his bones better than any iced coffee ever could.

“Gimme the rundown, Moxx. How’s it looking?”

“There’s four of them around the fire. One woman, three men, all in camouflage clothing. All wearing hunting caps for some reason too, even though this weather’s far too warm for it for most humans, I would think. Perhaps it’s some kind of pack-bonding thing.” Moxxie adjusted the binoculars a bit. “The target is the short one with the red hair.”

“G-got it,” Blitzo said, rubbing his arms. If he any hair on them, it'd be standing up. Fire sounded good. Fire sounded really good. “When reddie breaks off from the bunch, we nab them. The client said he doesn’t care if the others get hurt in the process as long as we weren't charging extra for it, he wanted the party all back together anyway.”

“Right,” Millie said with a nod. “As soon as-”

“They’re all moving out at once,” Moxxie hissed, cutting her off. “They were talking but I couldn’t hear what, the target’s being left to guard the fire.”

“It’s almost too easy,” Blitzo said, twirling the gun in his hand and before splitting off and creeping through the underbrush, each footstep sinking slightly into the damp, muddy ground with a squelch as Moxxie hissed something after him that he couldn’t quite hear. The foliage was thick enough here that he lost sight of the fire for a moment, but the cozy, flickering warmth drew him like a snake to a flute, yellow sparks creating dancing shadows off the trees- but with no long shadows to reflect except for his own. “Wait, the hell did he go?” The firepit was still crackling merrily away, but the target had vanished. He raised an eyebrow, turning back to their hiding spot. “C’mon, where is he? You go blind in the last two minutes, Moxxie?”

“He was just here- he must have stepped out to go to the bathroom,” Moxxie whisper-hissed. “Be careful, they’re-”

“C’mon, Moxxie, I’m not an invalid.” Blitzo stuck his hand in the already-opened bag of marshmallows and stuffed one in his mouth. The pops and snarls of the fire were filling the aches of his bones with soothing jelly, and his legs wobbled a little as he swallowed down the gooey snack. “I’ll go find ‘em, just… just a second…”

“Sir…”

“Relax, it takes more than ten seconds to piss.” Blitzo reached for the marshmallows again, fingers already in the bag when-

“Blitz!” Millie called out just as pain exploded through the back of his hand, and a screech bubbled up from deep in his chest as he automatically smacked his other hand at his wrist, brain taking precious milliseconds to process whatever the fuck had just happened.

There was a knife. Impaled. On his hand. Black blood spurted out in waves over his skin and sleeve, and he yanked the fingers close to his body as shrieking erupted from the bushes.

“Ha! Thought I heard somethin’! Those horns are gonna look real pretty mounted on my wall!” Red hair fell over a tanned and freckled face, and Blitzo’s fingers twitched, nerves going haywire as his other hand fumbled for something, anything, he’d dropped the fucking gun when he’d grabbed at his wrist, fuck, shit- there! His fingers clasped a small bottle and he chucked it full force at the human. It shattered, foul-smelling yellow liquid splattering his face as he sputtered and spat. “What the fuck?” The human fumbled for his weapon to retaliate, but-

BLAM!

-That was going to be rather difficult, considering his head was now in about twenty pieces, several of which splattered Blitzo's face and slid down before he brushed them off, licking at his cheeks.

“Blitz!” Millie called, hurrying down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-”

“Put your h-hands up!”

Blitzo whirled around, automatically dropping into a hunched crouch with his non-injured arm wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as the other humans from the hunting party of doom scrambled back to the firepit. God, his hand hurt.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled in a lower timbre than he’d ever heard himself drop to, and the one in the front froze, leading the woman to shove her way upwards.

“You killed Todd!”

A bang and she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest before another shot went straight through her skull. A cawing crow took off from a nearby tree, rustling the leaves.

Fingers clasped his elbow, and he could smell mint- Moxxie’s mouthwash. “The target’s down, we need to-”

“I wanna rip them to pieces, they got me,” Blitzo growled.

“Millie and I can take care of- eep!” Another shot cracked off above their heads, and Moxxie dragged Blitzo to the side as a huge branch slammed down where they’d been. “You’re in no shape-“

“I’m fine!” Sweat poured down over Blitzo’s eyes, and- were there two of Moxxie all of a sudden? When did he get a twin? He didn't have a twin. Blitzo would have found that out by now.

“No, you aren’t! You’re risking all of us, call Loona so we can clean- gah!” Moxxie kicked at the air furiously as one of the remaining hunters lifted him up like a ragdoll and dragged him away, screaming all the while as he twisted and writhed in their grip. Blitzo saw red. His tail snapped like a whip as he leaped forward and bit furiously at the mound of protesting, shaking meat, and a sharp shock grazed the side of his chest before blood gushed from the human's throat as he tore the jugular out with his teeth. Inside, the kid kicked out, doing their best to distract him, but nothing was going to keep him from-

“Moxx! Blitzo!” The head cracked mere inches from his face as Millie slammed a knife into the neck and snapped the spinal cord, and a gurgling scream cut off before two pairs of hands hauled him back from the fresh corpse. He snapped his teeth, heels digging into the damp ground as he strained forward. He needed to dismember it, he needed to tear it to pieces, he needed to fucking destroy it-

“And stay down, you fucking bastards, don’t fucking touch them-“

“It’s- it’s fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Moxxie said, dragging Blitzo back by the arm. “He maybe bruised my arms at best.”

“They’re dead, Blitzo, we can go home.” Millie agreed, and their combined strength forced Blitzo to take a breath, falling limp.

“…So sloppy, the ones with guns didn’t even get a shot in.”

Moxxie sucked in a breath. “About that…” He pressed his fingers to the side of Blitzo’s pecs, and Blitzo groaned out a ‘fuck’.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it should be fine with some painkillers and a tourniquet,” Millie commented. “The hand is much worse.”

Being reminded of that sent a white-hot flare of pain scurrying up his nerves, and Blitzo hissed. “Riiiiight.”

Millie fired off a text, and by the time Blitzo turned around, the portal had opened in front of them. He took one step before nearly eating dirt, and Millie and Moxxie grasped him under the armpits and hauled him through, the office the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

“What happened?” Loona asked, fingers tightening around the Grimoire.

“It went badly,” Moxxie grunted. “Get the first aid kit.”

Loona didn’t argue.

________________

Well, he was definitely on too many painkillers to be fully healthy for the kid at this point considering how much it took to be anywhere near effective on him, but he wasn’t bleeding out, his hand wasn’t screaming at him anymore, and his shirt had probably gotten ruined by all the stretching out even before his side started bleeding all over it, so…

Okay, yeah, fuck trying to spin it, this just plain sucked shit-flavored asshole. Millie finished tying off the bandage around his hand as he sat in his chair and Moxxie paced around his office.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Come-” Blitzo coughed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chills were creeping back up everywhere the blood wasn’t still rushing to, and he couldn’t help but lean closer to Millie and her precious body heat. “-Come on, getting hurt in the field is just part of the job.”

“Yes, but you’re not thinking clearly anymore, and you’re risking-”

“I am so thinking clearly!” Setting aside the fact that if he blinked too much Moxxie duplicated himself again, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

Moxxie continued as if he hadn’t spoken, rude little shit. “You’re risking yourself, both of us, and, yes, the baby!”

“Oh, and they’re the one that matters here.” Blitzo rolled his eyes, but Moxxie folded his arms, tail swaying like a pendulum and nails drumming on his bicep.

“I know that your feelings about this are mixed, but I would never forgive myself if you went out there and got both of you killed because you’re a stubborn jackass.”

“He’s right,” Millie added.

“Don’t you dare team up on me,” Blitzo snarled, lead settling in the pit of his stomach as Millie stood up, drying her hands off with the towel borrowed from the bathroom- they were going to have to replace that. It had been white with little galloping horses around the bottom, and they were all so covered in black now that you couldn’t even see them anymore. He knew from experience that imp blood never came out of white fabric no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“We will if we have to- I’d do the same for anybody,” Millie said, balling the towel up and dropping it on the desk. “You lasted a lot longer than most people would, but there’s no shame in taking some time off so you don’t end up killin’ the little one before they even get a chance to see the world.”

“What about me, huh? Don’t I get a say in this? This is my company!” He shoved himself off the chair, but Millie pushed him back down. Her hand burnt where it touched his chest.

“C’mon, Blitzo, you need to be resting- I care about you, alright? Both’a us do.”

“Oh, sure, that's why you're not letting me make my own decisions as a grown-ass man." He narrowed his eyes.

“If we didn’t, we’d just let you go out and get yourself killed by the next target who has a gun,” Moxxie retorted. “I’m not going to let you drag all of us down with you, and I’m not going to keep working out in the field with you if you’re going to be a liability!”

“Are you threatening to quit?” Blitzo tried to get up again, and again Millie pushed him back down- far easier than she should have been able to, but if it was the blood loss or the baby weight was anybody’s guess.

“Of course not- maybe? I don’t know!” Moxxie rubbed his forehead. “I just-”

Millie shifted over to him, squeezing his shoulders. “We get what you mean, honey.” She turned back to Blitzo. “I know you wanna always do your best and work hard for IMP, and I’ve got nothing but praise for that, but-”

“But nothing! I can do this, end of story!”

Millie raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back towards him and poking Blitzo right where she’d just wrapped the gunshot wound, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whine. “Suuuuure you can.”

“If you insist on still coming to work, just-” Moxxie sucked in a breath. “Just take over Loona’s job. Maybe she can help us, but Millie and I handled things fine when you were gone, we can keep things running.”

“Like hell you can!” Icy hands squeezed at his chest as Millie patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Blitzo.”

He smacked her hand away. “Don’t tell me I’m useless, I don’t need your fucking pity-”

“But you do need us,” Millie replied. “We want to help, isn’t that enough? There’s only another month and a half or so until they’ll be here, after all. You've got a lot to get sorted, and it's the least we can do.”

Blitzo just stared with wide eyes as his knifed hand screamed with every minute twitch of the nerves and tendons within. Moxxie raised an eyebrow with his arms crossed, and Millie considered the towel on the desk before dropping it in the trash. It left behind little splatters of his blood on the polished oak as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck both of you.”

(Which meant, unfortunately, ‘you win for now’, and it was only because he was about to pass out in his chair.)

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 7: 

There wasn’t much of a rush at first. Peter liked to think it was more shock than anything, but a part of him knew that this had happened far too often for him to really be in shock. It wasn’t until about ten to fifteen minutes after Commissioner Gordon had been taken into the manor did the flames of his rage finally burst.

Piper, ever the observant puppy, came up to him with her tail between her legs, noticing and responding to her master’s distress. Peter’s eyes softened as he ran a hand through her soft fur. Titus lumbered up to him not long after, resting his large snout onto Peter’s lap. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Thanks, Titus,” he said and received a lick on his hand from his large tongue. A presence approached from behind him.

“Parker,” a stiff voice said. Peter hummed, not really interested in turning around to face Damian. Peter could tell Damian was a little nervous, as his heart rate had elevated a bit. “Are-” a pause came, “are you alright?” There was a note of reluctance in Damian’s tone as if he wasn’t sure he should be there. Peter let his lips twitch up slightly.

“Fine.” Damian came to stand in front of Peter. “Well, as fine as I can be.” They were silent for a while, before Peter heard heavy footsteps lumbering towards the room they were in.

“Hey Bruce,” he called out noncommittally. The footsteps stopped before the door.

“How are you holding up, Peter?” The deep voice of the head of house asked. Peter shrugged, not really caring if Bruce could see or not. He probably noticed though.

“Like I told Damian, as good as I can be.” Bruce entered the room, coming to stand next to Damian, both men looming over Peter like it was their job to do so.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Can you tell me where Harley is?” A regretful look came upon the man’s handsome face, though his son’s expression was as ambiguous as ever.

“If I could, Pete, I would. But I don’t.” Peter scoffed, running a hand through chestnut curls with agitation.

“So there is something the great Batman doesn’t know,” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell that Bruce and Damian heard it. Both men froze, and while their faces remained unreadable, he could see the surprise coursing through their eyes.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, though Peter could hear the strain.

“How did you know?” Peter levelled them with a cool look, and despite not planning to reveal that he knew at that exact moment, he didn't think to feel bad about it.

“I know I’m not a detective, Bruce, but give me some credit. I can figure things out on my own, even if you didn’t make it so blatantly obvious.” Father and son straightened up, from shock, wariness, or pride, Peter doesn’t know. Peter just knew that they had many things to talk about so both stalked out of the room, footfalls heavy and rushed as the door banged closed on their way out. It was another five minutes before Peter retired to his own room, Piper and Titus following from behind.

-----

“Knock knock,” Dick’s voice called out, breaking Peter’s train of thought. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, giving the handsome man a forced grin.

“Hey Dick,” he greeted softly. “What’s up?” The light seemed to bend around him in the doorway, making him seem like some sort of angel. In reality, Peter knew he was far from that.

“I heard you knew.” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I figured it out pretty early on.” Dick leaned on the doorway.

“When?” Peter thought for a moment, calculating.

“I knew you weren’t normal when I met you. I didn’t really realize that Bruce, Batman I mean, was mafia until I came here.” Silence commenced and Dick seemed to hesitate before entering the room, dark and warm.

“You-” The eldest Wayne paused, “you won’t do anything will you?”

The unspoken ‘you won’t tell?’ was quite obvious.

“Not unless you do anything in front of me. Otherwise, I won’t have proof.” Dick’s shoulders slumped before he came forward to sit on the bed.

“You realize now, that we can’t let you go, right?” Peter didn’t react to that statement.

“Would you have let me go even when I didn’t know you guys were mafia?” A tense moment passed before Dick’s shoulder came out of their slumped position, shaking with silent laughter. Peter already knew the answer before he even asked the question.

“No,” Dick admitted, and while it wasn’t a surprise to Peter, he had no idea why he was so gutted upon hearing the admission. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “No, I suppose not. You know, gorgeous, it’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share of people,” Peter’s chest ached but he didn’t otherwise react, “but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do.” Peter leaned back onto his hands, his arms bearing the weight of his torso and his heavy heart.

“You realize that makes you like a psychopath, right Dick?” At that, the look on the other man’s face became pensive.

“More like a sociopath. That’s what I would characterize me as. I saw my parent’s murder, you know.” The sudden change in subject gave Peter a bit of whiplash and he did not know this. Peter knew that Bruce Wayne had acquired Dick Grayson when his parents died from a nasty fall. He also knew that Dick Grayson watched them fall off that platform.

He always thought it was hard on him, considering circumstances and all, but then he remembered that this was not the same Dick Grayson from the comics, but darker, a shadow version of the light that Dick was supposed to be. “I saw those men sabotage the ropes. I could’ve stopped it,” the look in Dick’s blue eyes was intense, as if testing Peter, “but I was so damn curious.” Peter licked his lips, suddenly dry. His hands started to sweat and his heart thudded with a ferocious force in his ribcage.

This is not where he saw this conversation going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Curious? About what would happen?” The blue eyes bore into him a little while longer before looking away and Peter felt like collapsing against the mattress, the weight gone from his body, no longer paralysing him.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was young and I didn’t always know how things worked so I was curious about what would happen if those men cut the ropes and my parents still used them. I felt bad afterwards. They were genuinely good people, Pete. That’s why I exacted my revenge on the people who did that to them.” Their gazes met as Peter stared incredulously at the other man. The intention of his stare didn’t need to be said.

“They were still my parents, Peter. It felt right.” Peter scoffed, turning away from Dick completely, though the feel of those blue eyes burning into him didn’t fade away.

“Felt right after you used them in some sort of sick experiment like they were lab rats.”

“Well-” Dick started to justify it, but Peter knew that even if it seemed like the most logical explanation, it would still be wrong.

“Well nothing, Dick. They were people.”

“So?” Peter’s head snapped over his shoulder to meet Dick’s glowing eyes. At least, they seemed to be glowing.

“So?! That’s all you have to say?!” The full gravity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. The person he was sitting with, while not completely dark and vicious, was morally grey and would not hesitate to do whatever would benefit him and all that he cared about.

“People are expendable,” the casualty with which Dick said that was like a knife to the gut, “they come and go and it’s natural. Our history precedes us and our kind, from the slums and the impoverished, are known to be those who either kill for survival or for fun, but killers nonetheless. Times may change, Peter, and so will civilizations,” Dick stood up from the bed, the springs beneath him creaking as they righted themselves, “but humans will always stay the same. Till the very end.”

Peter let go of the sheets, his grip starting to rip through the seams. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, back towards the door and Dick, his face shadowed in the darkness.

“This is the world that you’ll be living in from now on, Pete. Harley was already living in it before you came along. She got used to it. She survived. Now, it’s your turn. And I hate to do this, bambi, but behave,” Peter flinched at the warning note in his tone, similar to Tony’s when Peter did something in the lab but with a much more vicious intent, “before my family and I are forced to do anything drastic.”

“You’d kill me?” There was a pause before Dick answered. It made Peter sick to know that Dick had to hesitate. It meant that he could if he wanted to. At least, he could if Peter didn’t have his powers. Dick stood up and headed to the door as he responded.

“No, we don’t kill anyone unless we really have to. You’re close with a lot of our family and our associates so that gives you rapport, but don’t think for a second that we won’t do something if you force our hand.” The older man paused for a second, hand on the knob.

“On another note, it would probably be best if you didn’t leave the house for a few days. Just for, you know. Safety purposes.”

‘Mine or yours?’ The vigilante thought silently before asking,

“So you’re locking me in here?” The golden halo of light that bent around Dick made it seem as if his eyes were glowing as he looked back at his guest-turned-prisoner.

“If you want to call it that. You still have free reign of the manor, bambi, and all of its features, but for now, leaving is out of the question. At least until my family and I get this situation figured out.”

‘What’s there to figure out?’ It wasn’t as if he was someone important. They already have the police under their control, and it was a lengthy process getting other government factors into play, like the FBI. If he were to do that, he’d have to play the long game and Peter truthfully didn’t know how much time he had left.

In his thoughts, the younger man didn’t see the way Dick’s hand tightened on the knob of the door or how his shoulders tensed slightly; didn’t see the way the blues of Dick’s eyes glinted guiltily before he turned away. Peter was silent as Dick left, closing the door until only a slight crack revealed a sliver of light into the room.

Of all the Wayne family, he didn’t think Dick would be the one to deliver the threat. He thought Jason or Damian would be much better at it. However, he is aware of how he looks and they probably thought it would be best to have someone closer with him, and known to be softer than his brothers.

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought, ‘Dick was definitely the best person to send in.’

And now he was left with a dilemma. On one hand, Peter, who had entered this kind of life when he donned that red and blue suit, was on intimate terms with this lifestyle. He knew what it was like and was familiar with it.

On the other hand, he was on the opposite side of the Wayne family (at least, in this universe). He could not condone what they have done, are doing, and will do, even in the name of fighting against crime. So to sit idly by while they wreak this kind of havoc on streets like Gotham’s, which are already very heavily shrouded in crime and darkness, weighs heavily on his heart and on his mind.

“But I’m already so deep in,” he sighed to himself, his brows furrowing together before he perked up in realization.

‘Of course!’ Peter remembered the lesson that the Black Widow herself, Natasha Romanoff taught him a couple of years back.

“Make the best of your situation,” she said sternly just as they were about to be deployed on a mission, “and survive to the best of your ability. This life is messy, spiderling, and horrible. Roll with the punches. And remember,” her eyes were unreadable, Peter remembered, and very serious, “there is always opportunity in chaos.”

“There is always opportunity in chaos!” All Peter needed to do was to resolve this situation as best he could. That would mean going in himself and dismantling the Joker and his goons before the Wayne family ever have to get involved. Easier said but Peter’s done more difficult things. Then, he would need to speed the process of getting home. No more sitting on his ass and waiting for Dr. Strange to find him. He needed his own solution. Again, easier said than done but he would deal with his problems one at a time.

For now, he would deal with the one most prominent. Peter marched over to his bag, sitting by the desk and reached in, pulling out a small phone, frequently referred to as a burner. Typing in a number that he knew could be reached by, he sent a little text and waited for a reply.

It was time for preparations.

-----

Tony was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked with terror in his tone, horror displayed plainly on his face. The boy er- man he had come to think of as a son was stuck in what was supposed to be a fictional world and had multiple men, all of whom looked like they could crush Peter, are chasing him because they like him.

‘What has the world come to?’ Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around his husband, who leaned into the touch, still as horrified as ever. It was about five minutes before Tony had had enough.

“Alright.” He stepped away from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen looked confused.

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Tony repeated. “I am getting my son back, if it’s the last thing I do. How do we do that?” The doctor was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed (though it was a total overuse of the word ‘alright,’). “Let’s do this.”

-----

Peter scaled the wall, making sure that no one was looking. He had hacked into any street cameras nearby through a deployed gauntlet earlier and made sure that they were unable to spot him. Just in case someone had come looking. It was never a bad idea to make sure.

Not long after Dick had left his room, Peter locked it behind him and deployed his whole suit, putting it on stealth mode. After grabbing his backpack, he left through the lone window, making sure to be as quiet as he could be. It wasn’t hard considering his bone density lowered after the bite.

He crawled his way down to the ground and enabled cloaking, knowing that the Waynes were paranoid bastards. They probably had multiple contingency plans in place in case of an invader or many other things. From there, he ran towards the city at full speed, thankful for all the training he had gone through with the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s idea of having used the blueprints of Shuri’s Sneakers design and implementing them into the suit.

Everything was a blur as Peter ran at full speed (at his full speed, he can keep up with Bucky and Steve, and with time, probably pass them) and by the time he reached the edge of the city, he started swinging with his webs.

It was exhilarating to be doing this again. Peter found himself with a genuine grin on his face, a rarity since becoming stranded in Gotham. The familiarity of flying through the air at breakneck speeds, his backpack bouncing behind him as he grips onto the webs that he manufactured himself. The wind passed him by and it was like he was back in New York, saving people from the crimes of the night. Oh, how he missed it. He missed everything about it. New York was home, after all. Home.

‘I want to go home,’ he thinks morosely, severely lonely and depressed. The smile slid right off his face. His thoughts were silent the rest of the trip. It was about ten minutes before he landed on the roof of the Captain’s. No one was on the roof, as far as he could sense.

‘Good,’ he thought as he dropped down and retracted the suit around him. Walking towards the edge of the building, Peter crouched down and set his backpack onto the ground, bringing out a notebook and a pencil while waiting for his soon-to-be partner in crime. He dangled his feet over the side of the building as he wrote down what he was thinking.

About five minutes later, Peter could hear the strong heartbeat of Slade, and to the untrained (read: un-superpowered) ear, silent footsteps.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Slade said quietly. Peter turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. Slade looked at him with a curious and attentive eye.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Slade’s eye narrowed minutely, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms (they bulged out and holy shit, this is not the place, Peter!).

“What happened?” Peter let out a small laugh. He must’ve noticed my red rimmed eyes.

“Always straight to the point.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Slade’s tone was dangerous. The smile was off his face in an instant and he started to shake his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all!” The mercenary didn’t look convinced. Peter pursed his lips and in an effort to be sincere, he stood up and walked over to Slade, reaching and grasping his gloved hand in Peter’s own. The difference was rather stark. Slade was huge, afterall.

‘Not just in that one way,’ Peter’s inner thoughts seemed to smirk. Peter shook his head of that thought before a blush could spread over his cheeks.

“Slade,” he says, “I promise you that no one hurt me. However,” a blue eye sharpened at that, “someone did hurt one of my friends and kidnapped the other.”

“The clown girl?” Peter scowled and slapped Slade’s arm (as gently as he could).

“She is not a clown,” Slade raised an eyebrow (over the eye not in the patch). “But, yes, Harley. They kidnapped her and put Babs into the hospital.” The other eyebrow shot up, making a look of surprise.

“The Commissioner’s daughter? Betting the Waynes loved that.”

“Oh yeah, they’re over the moon,” Peter deadpanned. “The problem is I need help tracking Harley down.” Slade was silent for a moment.

“The Waynes wouldn’t help?” Peter shook his head, chestnut curls bouncing with the motions.

“It’s not that. They don’t need to be involved in this.”

“They’re going to be involved anyways. Aren’t you living at their house? Your friend was even there.” Peter let go of Slade’s hand, which seemed to twitch and hesitate, sighing.

“This will be faster. They’re in the limelight constantly. While I don’t doubt their investigative prowess, it’ll be harder for them versus, say, you. Also, they found out that I know. You know, about them?” The mercenary nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Peter paused, hoping it meant what he wanted.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Slade voiced his assent. “What do you need me to do?” Peter thought for a moment. He is pretty sure he can trust Slade. At the very least, if things truly go to shit, he has another home (world) to go to (though that really defeats the purpose of Uncle Ben’s words). Despite being a mercenary, Slade has yet to do anything that would make Peter deem him untrustworthy. It was also a gut feeling. Slade wouldn’t betray Peter.

“Slade,” Peter called, looking up at the taller man through long and dark eyelashes, “I can trust you, right?” Slade eyed the really innocent yet somehow sultry look.

‘Damn kid really knows how to work me,' he thinks.

“Yeah,” Slade nodded. “Yeah, you can, sweetheart.” The younger man was silent for a moment before he finally decided.

“Good. Because what I’m about to show you is on a need to know basis. I’m counting on literally no one believing you unless I let them know too.” At this, Slade cocked his head.

“Let me know what?” Peter didn’t answer the question. Instead, he started packing up his stuff, putting his laptop and notebook back into his backpack.

“First, let’s go see a certain someone.”

-----

While Slade drove to the hospital, Peter had checked the security cameras around the area before going in. Commissioner Gordon had gone home for the night as visiting hours were over. The father was obviously very distraught at being separated from his injured child but not even Bruce Wayne could tell sleep-deprived nurses and hospital staff what to do.

“Okay, pull off here,” Peter directed Slade onto a road that was a little ways away from the side of the hospital. This was where the least amount of security cameras were and the cameras that were there, he had made fabricated footage to insert into the tapes, made easy by Mr. Stark’s suit and Ned’s hard and software that they integrated.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that?” Slade asked as he side-eyed Peter hacking into the cameras. Peter shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips. He was finally able to show that he is more capable than he seems. Slade had snorted at his lack of an answer, apparently amused.

They exited the car, making sure to grab their things. Slade tried to grab all the equipment in the back but Peter managed to convince him to leave it; that it’d be heavier than they needed.

“Hey, I said I trusted you. You said I could, right?” Slade seemed to know what Peter was going to say but indulged him anyway (very much so exasperatedly, but still).

“Yes, I said you could, sweetheart.”

“Then I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Slade said without hesitation. Peter felt a rush of warmth through his chest before brushing it aside.

‘It’s not the time for this right now,’ he scolded himself.

“Then please trust me when I say that we do not need all that shit in the back.” The mercenary scowled.

“That’s my equipment, sweetheart. I regularly need and use that ‘shit in the back,’” he said with air quotes. Peter snickered at him.

“Well, don’t worry, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Slade had a dubious look on his face, though his expression barely changed since he met Peter on the rooftop. Finally, the taller man’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” there was a heavy and exasperated note in his tone, “but if we end up dying, I’m going to blame you.” Peter’s doe brown eyes scrunched up into crescents as he smiled. A slight dimple showed and Slade suddenly forgot what he was thinking about.

“Don’t worry, Slade. I’ll protect you.” Peter was pretty sure even the cameras could pick up the loud snort that came from Slade, even though they were audio silent.

-----

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Slade whisper-shouted as they approached the side wall of the hospital. Peter glanced behind him before looking back up at the wall of the hospital. Nearest the top floor is where Peter knows where Barbara’s room is. They’ll need to climb to the top. Peter smirked.

“I’m getting ready to climb.” Slade blinked.

“With what?! We left all the equipment in the car!” Peter shrugged with a look on his face that said ‘and?’ Suddenly, the younger man’s face got serious. “Alright Slade. What I’m about to show you is a secret. Harley doesn’t even know. For now, I want to keep it that way.” Peter waited until Slade nodded in agreement before rolling up his sleeve and rotating the wheel on his watch. The top screen popped upwards and he pressed down on it, activating his suit.

Peter felt the nanobots climb all over him, covering him from head to toe. It still retained the new car smell that Peter remembered telling Mr. Stark. He spread and clenched his hands, revelling in the feel of the suit back on his skin and the knowledge that he could now use his powers again without holding back. He looked towards Slade, ignoring the wide eye that was directed at him and held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

It was a few moments before Slade physically shook himself out of the little funk he was in and took Peter’s hand without a word, though his stance was wary. While holding Slade’s hand, Peter turned around and placed his large hand onto his shoulder.

“Alright,” he said with utter seriousness in his voice, “get on.” Slade was silent again.

“What?!” Peter rolled his eyes and faced the mercenary. He stepped forward and took both his hands, turned back around and let them fall onto his shoulders.

The spider themed superhero reached back and grabbed Deathstroke by the unders of his knees and surged upwards, lifting the mercenary onto his back. Slade’s torso fell over Peter’s head and for a moment, Peter was sure that the man on his back fell through the sheer shock of someone Peter’s height and weight (literally half of Slade’s) lift someone like him.

“Okey dokey. Hold on,” he sang and jumped about 20 feet into the air and onto the building, revelling in the catch in Slade’s breath as he clung onto Peter with a tight grip as Peter stuck to the wall with his feet alone.

“What the actual fuck.” The shock in his partner’s statement made Peter laugh.

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now, we have a job.”

“You’d better,” he’d heard Slade grumble. It only made him laugh more.

-----

“What happened?” Bruce asked his first son as he descended the stairs. Dick had that steely look in his eyes, the one he had when he was forced to do something drastic, and it made Bruce antsy. There wasn’t much that could faze his eldest but it would’ve been bad if he had that certain glint in the blues of his eyes.

“I told him.” While the Wayne head had an inkling about what Dick told the little object of all his son’s affections (and the platonic affections of his unofficial daughter), he preferred if Dick told him straight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I told him about my parents and that he should get used to this life because he’s in it now.” Dick looked directly at his adoptive father.

“Does he have to be though? I don’t want him to be.” Bruce sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Dick. He knows.” Bruce noticed something. “What else did you tell him?” His son was silent for a moment, realizing he was caught. Of course, Bruce and everyone else in his family know him better than anyone else in the world. No one else could get close enough anyway.

“I said that he shouldn’t leave the manor for a while. At least until we figure this out.” Bruce smirked at his son, eyes full of knowing.

“There isn’t anything to talk over, Dick. He can walk free if he doesn’t have any proof. You’re just trying to keep him here longer.” The eldest Wayne child stiffened before slumping.

“Before he inevitably leaves us.”

“Is that what’s going to happen?” Damian came from nowhere, signature scowl on his face. His other brothers followed him as they, too, showed similar expressions of displeasure.

“He has no proof of anything and he'll be staying for a few days. What more can we ask for?” Jason crossed his arms over his massive chest, though looking impossibly small next to his youngest brother.

“His forgiveness is too much. He won’t forgive us and we don’t expect him to, Dick.” Tim was right, however Dick couldn’t help but fight back.

“He knew the entire time, guys. He knew we were shady and the way we are.” Damian snorted.

“Anyone with eyes and half a brain can, Grayson. It’s not that impressive.” Damian gestured to each of them. “We don’t exactly hide it.”

‘Though people can be oh so dumb,’ the youngest thinks derisively. Bruce hummed, effectively silencing all other voices in the room.

“Though,” he said, tone thoughtful, “he could be useful. He’s helped Tim with countless things and Dick has a point. If he knew we were dangerous, why didn’t he stay away?” Everything was still silent. “I think it’s worth a shot to convince him to stay.” Damian scoffed.

“That may be, father, but his one reason to stay is now gone. How do you propose we convince him then? Save her, and then extort his good will into staying because we saved his best friend?” The head of the Wayne household smirked. His sons never failed him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tim mused, a pondering expression on his face. Jason grinned with a feral ferocity.

“I’m down.” The bass in his voice was rumbling. He really liked the idea. Dick smiled.

“It also involves tracking down the asshole who did this to Babs, so hell yes. You know, Buce, Commissioner Gordon is going to want to get in on this too right?” Bruce nodded, hair flopping as he does so.

“Of course he is welcome to join. He’s like family. So,” he made eye contact with each of his sons and Alfred, who had snuck himself in a while ago, “why don’t we get to work?”

It was phrased as a question but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t one. The ravenous and vengeful looks in their eyes were enough to make even Lex Luthor anxious.

-----

The beep of the EKG machine broke Peter’s heart as he and Slade silently entered the dark hospital room. Through his suit’s lenses, he could see the basic outlines of things with their heat signatures. People on the night shift were passing by their door but other than that, no one but him, Slade, and an unconscious Babs were in the hospital room. Peter carefully let Slade slide off his back, taking care not to make noise.

“Stay there,” Peter whispered and headed forward, evading the efforts of his partner to grab him and pull him back to his hulking figure. He had identified a lamp and crept up on it, pulling on the little metal string, illuminating the room.

Something sailed towards his head and his Spidey Sense went crazy. He caught it in mid-air, instincts quick and precise. He turned around and observed the object thrown. A knife lay in his hand, bright against the light of the lamp. Barbara Gordon lay in bed, eyes open with caution and determination, switching between looking at him and Slade, hand in the air.

“Who-” she wheezed, coughing heavily, “who the fuck are you?” Peter, in a sign of goodwill, placed the knife gently onto the ground and held up his hands in a surrender.

“It’s okay, Babs, it’s just me.” The helmet retracted to show his face, much to the red head’s surprise. “It’s Peter.” The shock in her blue eyes made him chuckle a bit. It almost made him want to see Slade’s face when he had found out earlier.

“What the fuck Peter. I could’ve killed you!” Peter smiled knowingly.

“No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have.” She looked on in shock while Slade stood by silently. Peter approached the bed, the suit retracting completely as the nanobots slid smoothly back into his watch. “How are you?”

Babs scoffed.

“I’ve been better,” she said sardonically, though her eyes were alight with pain. Peter’s face softened at her obvious hurt.

“Yeah. But hey,” a charming smile stretched across his face, “at the very least, you’re as beautiful as ever.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes (a few of them trailed down her face), and she let out a wet laugh.

“I’m never going to walk again,” came a whisper but the words were no less devastating. Peter felt like he was punched in the gut and reached out to grab her hand, which squeezed his back with a ferocity that belied her devastation.

“That’s what the doctors said?” She nodded, obviously choked up. Peter clenched his teeth and looked over at Slade, only to find him staring at the scene in front of him with an observing eye. “Well, don’t worry. Slade and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

“But, I thought Dick and Bruce were going to do that?” Was it okay to lie? He’s gotten better at it. Natasha is a really good teacher.

“We’re helping,” he lied straight through his teeth, aware of Slade stiffening on the other side of the room. Babs scoffed again.

“If that was the case, then why are you sneaking in when you can literally just walk in through the doors?” Damn Babs for being so smart. He quickly came up with an excuse.

“Because visiting hours are over and I’d rather not have my name on the visitor logs?” Barbara shrugged, wincing at the pain that the movement brought.

“Fair enough.”

“I just want to know what happened and anything that can help us figure out where Harley is.” A pained look took over Babs’ expression.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. If only we didn’t go out.”

“That’s not your fault Babs. You don’t have to feel guilty. However, I would appreciate it if you could tell us what you two were doing that night.” Barbara sighed, tucking stray strands of ginger hair behind an ear.

“She was contacted by her ex about a week ago and said he had wanted to apologize. He sent an address and told her to come and meet him. She didn’t want to go alone and she didn’t want you in danger so she asked me to come.” Tears sprang to Babs’ eyes. It was jarring to see someone usually so put together break down. “It was obviously a trap but we thought we could handle it between us two. We were wrong.”

Peter was quiet for a while. While he could be mad at Barbara and Harley for not telling him, he was also mad at himself.

‘Why didn’t I tell them about my powers right away? Maybe if I did, this all could’ve been avoided.’ Harley was yet another person on the growing list that Peter could not save. Guilt weighed heavily on his chest and it was likely that it weighed the same on his redheaded friend’s as well. He reached out and clasped her shoulder with a bare hand.

“It’s not your fault, Babs. Slade and I will get her back, so don’t worry,” he said softly. Blue eyes swiveled to meet his doe brown.

“How can you be so forgiving, Pete?” It came out as a whisper but her heartbreak was easily identified. Peter smiled sadly.

“Despite what you all think, I am familiar with situations like these. Now,” he came closer to the bed, “was there anything at all that could hint about where the Joker took Harley?” Her eyebrows pulled together and her expression became pinched. It was about a minute before she spoke again.

“I-I don’t remember much. A lot of pain, but,” she swallowed thickly, “as I was passing out, I heard someone say something about the sewers. It’s all pretty blurry after that but I definitely remember it.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked back at Slade who shrugged. The chestnut haired boy rolled his eyes.

‘So he’s no help.’ He sighed. ‘Looks like it’s come down to this.’ He pushed his sleeve back to reveal his watch. Peter tapped on the screen and let it go into unlock mode.

“Karen,” he said, and it was only a second before the AI that Mr. Stark had created for him, the AI that he hasn’t talked to in a month responded.

“Hello Peter,” her odd voice answered, and while it could be surprising to others, it only served to give him comfort. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you remotely hack into the Gotham City Hall’s record system?” Peter made eye contact with Babs’ wide eyes and he then looked over to his partner, and saw his narrowed eye. He had a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for the most updated, recent plans and blueprints for the Gotham sewer system.” Another minute before a hologram popped from his watch, the wide prints of the sewers showcased obviously.

“Here. Is there something you would like me to look for specifically?”

“Yeah. Any spaces that can be used as a base of operations, where about 50 people can work?” The hologram zoomed into a spot on the blueprints.

“After analyzing the data, I believe the place you’re looking for is right here. It is directly underneath the Gotham Harbor.” Peter looked towards Barbara.

“You think she can be there?” The woman sputtered before answering.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, that can definitely be it. Um, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?” Peter gave a small smile.

“This is my AI, Karen. Karen, this is Barbara Gordon and Slade Wilson. They’re friends of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” was her cordial answer.

“Awesome,” Barbara breathed.

-----

“I’ll come visit you after this is over okay?”

“Wait, you’re not going to do this yourselves, are you?” Peter paused, briefly looking down at Slade who had made it to the ground safely.

“We’re working with-”

“Peter.” Her interruption shut him up quickly. She knew.

“I know that you’re not working with them.” A pause.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?” Another pause of silence lapsed.

“I found out. About them. And their jobs. The one not known.” To Peter’s superhuman ears, he heard her breath being caught in her throat.

“And then what?”

“I told him that I have no proof. He told me that I should stay in the manor for now.”

“Dick did?” Peter nodded. “And you didn’t listen?” He smirked over his shoulder, getting ready to drop. There was only so much time. Who knew what the Joker would do to Harley if he didn’t stop him.

“Have I ever really been one to listen?” She gave a small chuckle.

“I guess not.” Peter’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more capable than you know.” The smile on her face matched his.

“Good luck.”

On the way back to the truck, Slade was quiet. Peter could tell he was also brooding. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the vehicle that he broke the silence.

“Slade, I know that was a shock, but you have to understand, I couldn’t tell any-” The mercenary held up a large hand. Peter quickly quieted.

“Look, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t get so caught up. Plus, we can talk about this later, when this is all over. For right now, focus on the mission.” Peter nodded, a contemplative look on his face as Slade started the engine and pulled out of the area. The superhero pulled up the camera feed and began rolling it again, wiping any evidence that they were ever there. Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Slade?” The mercenary hummed in reply.

“What if we don’t make it?” His answer was instantaneous.

“We’ll make it.”

“But-”

“We’ll make it!” His voice was rough and the statement came out in a growl. Peter clenched his teeth.

“You never know,” he said quietly. Slade shook his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned his head to look Peter in the eyes. His one eye was dead serious and assured. “I promise.”

It wasn’t for another few minutes that Peter responded.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I believe you. Now. Let’s go beat some clown ass.”

Slade’s laugh could be heard a mile away.

-----

Tim paged everyone in the family, who all rushed down to the Cave, save for Dick, who had gone to talk to Peter.

“I found where they are.” Damian crossed his arms, sneering.

“And how exactly did you do that, Drake?” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubted that the Joker would be above ground, since we have influence over a majority of Gotham. Joker lost his territory to Cobblepot earlier last year, after his encounter with Jason and they hate each other. So I was stumped as to where I could find him. Then, I remembered the underground of Gotham, consisting mostly of sewage systems. However, within those systems, I can only count a handful of places where he could hide. I’m betting he’s there.” Damian scoffed, green eyes hard.

“All conjecture.” His older brother shrugged, hair flopping.

“Maybe, but we don’t have much time. Besides, my instincts are almost never wrong. You know this, Demon Spawn.” Jason snorted.

“Alfred’s kitchen would seem to disagree.” Semblances of smiles appeared on everyone’s face, except for Tim’s, who sported a pout.

“How was I supposed to know that the spoon was in the bowl?!”

“Alfred told you, like, five times, Timmers.”

“It was 7 in the morning! I hadn’t had my coffee! It’s not my fault.” A huff.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“UGH!”

-----

“Peter?” Dick knocked on the door, voice and eyes soft. “Peter, are you there?” Silence met his questions. “We think we’ve made headway on where Harley is.” Still no reply. “Alright, well, I just wanted you to know.” Hurt was mirrored in his tone and Dick hesitated at the door, wanting to just burst in but he knew he couldn’t. He had already been cruel (any act of aggression against Peter was already labelled cruelty) to him earlier and didn’t want to fan the flames. “Call us if you need us.” The ‘call me if you need me specifically,’ was unsaid but understood.

Too bad he was talking to an empty room.

“Did Peter say anything?” Bruce asked as he watched his son descend the stairs once more. Dick shook his head and Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Head up, chum. Peter will forgive you. I know it. Besides, you could use Harley as leverage. Save her but for the price of staying with us. I’m not entirely sure I like the thought of him leaving either.” Dick raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Bruce to admit something so emotional (emotional for this family. We all know they literally have the emotional capacity of a fucking packing peanut. Like, collectively.).

“Maybe. We’ll see. Is everyone ready to go?” The head of the household smirked.

“Yup. We have several locations saved and we’ll need to split up when we get there.” Dick nodded, a similar grin on his face.

“Alright then. Let’s go put an end to this joke once and for all.”

-----

“Did we really need to contact him though?!” Tony whined at his husband, completely disregarding the man clad in black, green, and gold standing in front of them.

“I appreciate the love, Stark. And might I remind you that I am the one who volunteered to help you retrieve your son?” Tony scowled at the God of Mischief.

“You’re only helping because you like Peter.” Loki shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You’re lucky I like the little spider.” The genius rolled his eyes, aware of his husband rolling his own eyes at him.

“Whatever. What do we do?” Loki smirked.

“You tell me what you know and we get to work.”

Tony grumbled.

“Better be quick.”

He just wanted his son back.

Previous: Part 6

Next: Part 8