#there's just something about campbell soup that never completely sat all that right...

[kboo1999]

911 LS 5x08 The Quiet Ones Episode Recap

that omelette looks nasty as hell

not wyatt encouraging this man to harm people 😂

the poor cute way that TK said look at him

yes miss nancy with the organization of the meal train!!

not or nancy is going to kill me

not the next round of torture Tommy

how tf…how has tommy not thrown up since the twins were born

awww, carlos reaching out for tk immediately

carlos does not seem like it bothers him

wow. carlos. wow.

right tk. right.

oh no. not tk saying he’s done living his life on pause

it’s like carlos doesn’t even see that he is legitimately about to lose HIS WHOLE ASS HUSBAND that he fought tooth and nail for

a lost cause???

oh fucking lord. i always knew they knew more than they ever told Carlos…

soup. oh soup. you knew all a fucking longggggg!!!

you can tell Sam is so awkward

right carlos, rightt

intriguing theory? fuck you sir.

right — foolish enough

i wouldn't trust campbell as far as i could throw him

is it carlos’ homegirl??

oh maybe not. he said he...ugh.

the crazy thing about this is, carlos is about to use his connections that HIS HUSBAND has, so by proxy he has himself gained, YET!, he truly is probably killing tk slowly little by little on the inside

the crazy thing to me is that, if anyone, i would think carlos would get it — between hearing about tk’s childhood and KNOWING (because tk has said it more than one time) that Jonah is the LAST connection he has to his mom, yet you think he would be okay with letting him just go off to boarding school in a whole other country? no family? no connection to his late mother’s family? no connection or easy accss to his ONE SINGLE brother? — his brother who has a whole fucking gigantic, loving, and caring support system and family behind him

carlos doesn't even seem like he’s alarmed, caught off guard, or maybe all that caring that he could lose tk at this point right now

not it’s funny…i don’t see you

yeah, wyatt, wyatt who you ONLY KNOW & ONLY RECOGNIZES BECAUSE OF YOUR HUSBAND, YOUR HUSBAND WHO YOU ARE HURTING, TK

oh and looky fucking here

yes nancy, with the tude and hip pop out — yes ma’am, yes ma’am

okay marjan, okayyyy, i see the hand handed toss & flip

yes…they do believe as such

side thought: he said the chief was the one who kept him from making the biggest mistake, but NO. it was actually tk getting his dad, with all owen’s connections he was able to get the chief, so NO. NO. NO. not the chief. tk.

oh nah — don’t tell owen strand it's a lost cause, that's like challenging him

ooop. ooop.

seriously, carlos, yummm…his voice is soooo delicious

captain nancy gillian!!

okayyyy now then — carlos does the hand signals now

well that’s ✨awkward✨

👀...😅

that brother & sister love. nancy was NOT going to throw tk under the bus, letting carlos know it was HIS HUSBAND’s choice if he choose to talk to him or not

sassy tk 🤏🏾

awww.

yeah, tk is def right. carlos was the one who left

not the attic is bleeding!! 😂

not good looking paramedic

oooooo carlos’ smile and getting all cheesy when thinking about tk

sam? what??? 4 kids?!?!?!

yes. the 126 coming in, in full fucking force.

sir. who tf is lauhging?!?! — not one single damn person

yes juddy, yes!!

oh damn. tree killer.

your word means nothing.

tanks. lol. tanks. not one.

is that a threat?!?!

ahhhh!! not marjan coming with her followers again

yes. the kiss my ass. i love love love!!!

yes!!! the standing in solidarity! i was def not ready for that one!!

oh mateo. oh.

tommy ma’am what???

oh hot fucking damn. yes tommy. yassss!!

the mayor actually went against the board 👏🏾

aw. this is sad for them.

the way that carlos is looking at the pictures of tk when he was with jonah 🥺 👉🏾 👈🏾

5 rangers?

holy hell…

fuckkkk. not Campbell

oh my fucking gosh. carlossssss!!!!

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [1.9]

Masterlist

A/N: Yo! Midterms can kiss my a$$!!

Trigger: pregnancy mention

Soft sun rays broke through the curtains and washed over the ceilings. The light turned the dark shelter of eyelids into a bright red and caused a stir in the stagnant bed sheets.

Breaking the harmony of morning gold, Eva awoke to a violent stir in her guts, and she jumped out of bed as if it was red hot and singeing her skin. The sudden commotion woke Remington, ripped from his sleep and thrusted into a panic.

Her footsteps mellowed as she darted into her bathroom and crouched over the toilet. And awful sound erupted as she threw up into the bowl. Remington was quick to come after her and held back her hair as she chucked up what little was in her stomach.

"Shit," she gasped in exhaustion, her violent stomach turns now settled down. She flushed the toilet and sat back on the floor, wiping her mouth with a sheet of toilet paper. Remington crouched beside her, concern and fear flooding his face.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Fuck if I know," she replied breathlessly, her mind trying to push down the anxiety of possibly being exposed to the virus, "Do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine," he nodded, "You think you should go see a doctor?"

"I don't know," she shook her head.

Remington pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, "You're not warm, so you don't have a fever,"

She nodded, "My stomach kind of hurts. You don't think that maybe we were... exposed?"

Remington glanced at the floor, dread filling his chest as he thought it over. They still had their bubble that they were sticking to, and he couldn't see a way that he or Eva had been exposed to covid. Then again, it could've been the smallest, most random thing they touched...

"I don't think so," he shook his head, "We'd both be hurling up if we were,"

Eva sniffled, trying to relax. She was letting her mind race just because she was throwing up and had mild cramps. For all she knew, she it was side effects from her period.

"You want me to run you a bath?" Remington asked softly.

Eva chewed on her lip, her eyes heavy and her skin pale. She felt like complete shit, but a bath didn't sound too bad, "Yes please," she replied quietly.

Remington kissed her forehead and went to prep the bath for her. As the warm water splashed into the tub, Eva lurched forward into the bowl again. Remington felt terrible, he felt terrible not being able to help her. He had never seen her look so bad, exhausted, pale, it broke his heart. Guilt riddled up his spine as he thought more and more about what she had said; had they been exposed to covid 19? He would never forgive himself if she had gotten sick because of him.

When the bath was ready, Remington helped Eva in and sat down on the rim beside her. Eva closed her eyes and relaxed in the warm water, the heat almost as good as a hug from him. She let out a soft exhale as she sunk up to her neck in the bath.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern laced in his eyes.

Eva pouted as she looked up at him. Her deep blue eyes were now desaturated and dull, "I've had better mornings," she quipped cheekily, "But I hope you're enjoying yourself,"

"Why's that?"

Eva managed a smile, "You get to sit and look at your naked girlfriend in the bathtub,"

Remington chuckled, "Darling, your nudity is the last thing I'm thinking of. I'm just concerned whether or not you need to see a doctor... or if there's anything I can give you to make you feel better,"

Eva rested her head against the tiled wall behind her, "You sure you're feeling fine?"

Remington nodded, "I feel fine. So most likely we weren't exposed,"

She smiled, pulling her hand from the water to grasp his hand in hers, "I hate being sick," she huffed, "I can't kiss you properly,"

Remington smiled softly and kissed the top of her head, "Can I bring you something to eat? Drink?" he asked gently.

Eva nodded, "Maybe some tea?"

"Of course. One earl grey coming right up," he stood and went for the kitchen, "No sugar?"

"Atta' boy," she grinned weakly and watched him go.

As Remington left the bathroom, Pluto trotted past him to go sit with his master dutifully. Remington got to work on brewing her tea, though the entire time he couldn't help but feel an uneasy sensation fester in his guts. Instinctively, he phoned Sebastian and waited impatiently for him to answer. He was never good with these sort of things, he wasn't familiar with how to take care of someone when they were sick, let alone himself. He tried to push the thought out of his head that Eva had caught the virus, and perhaps it was a 24-hour bug she had instead.

"Hello?" Sebastian's voice came through.

"Hey Seb, you got a minute?" Remington said.

"Yeah, what's up?" Sebastian asked, "How's Eva?"

"That's why I'm calling you," he said, speaking quietly so Eva wouldn't hear him, "She started throwing up this morning and she had stomach pains. I don't know if I should get someone to see her or how I can help her,"

Sebastian was silent for a brief moment, "... She was throwing up this morning?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah. I ran her a bath and I'm making her some tea --"

"Any other symptoms besides vomiting? Fever? Lack of taste?"

"I'm pretty confident she doesn't have the virus. We'd both be sick otherwise," Remington assured him, "I just don't know what else to do for her,"

"... Well... is it possible she's sick not just from a cold or flu?" he asked warily.

"What do you mean?" Remington asked, not following Sebastian's trail.

"You guys have obviously..." Sebastian said, indirectly sewing his seeds.

Realization hit Remington like a truck. There was no way... could there be? "I mean, yeah -- but not without... a-and she's on the pill,"

"But you've been frequenting the last five days?"

"Sure -- I... c'mon, I seriously doubt that that's it," Remington said, "She's got stomach cramps, that can't be a symptom,"

"What do you know about pregnancy symptoms?" Sebastian asked. He didn't think she was pregnant, but he just wanted to make sure that they were prepared for the unlikely scenario.

"Nothing," Remington admitted, "But I don't... I mean... she can't... she's probably just caught some little bug,"

"And if it's not just a 'little bug'?" Sebastian asked.

Remington took a deep breath, "... Then I'll make sure to take good care of her," he spoke without a second thought. A baby. Could she really be having a baby? He felt his stomach churn again. The first thing that came to his mind after he ended his call was that he was nowhere near ready to be a father. He definitely wasn't ready for something like that, but he knew that if she was pregnant, the honourable thing to do would be to stick by Eva and support their child. They'd figure it all out together. His love and certainty for staying by her side didn't lessen the sense of panic that washed over him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way back to the bathroom, kneeling by the bathtub and handing her the tea.

"Thanks," she smiled softly at him and took a small sip. Her hair was damp and her skin flushed, likely from the steam, but in the rays of the sun peaking through she looked more angelic than ever.

His eyes travelled to her stomach and he felt his own lurch again. He just imagined something living in there, moving around under his skin. Something they both had a hand in creating.

"Eva," he spoke up, looking her in the eye, "Do you think you might be something more than sick?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to sound rude of confrontational because he didn't want to give her the impression that if she was pregnant, that he would be upset about it.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Y-You're throwing up this morning and the cramps... I know we've been safe but... what I mean is that if it's something more than sick, I'm going to stick with. you. I'll be right by your side through the whole thing and we can figure it out later," Remington's words fell faster from his lips than he'd planned.

Eva looked at him quizzically, then up at Pluto who sat curled on the counter, then she burst into giggles, "Rem, I'm not pregnant," she said, "It's probably just burn out,"

"Are you sure? Because it's okay if you are --" Remington said as he chewed on his bottom lip.

Her stormy eyes lit up a little at his nerves, "Remington. I'm not pregnant. My God, you think we'd actually be ready to be parents?" she laughed, placing one of her hands on his. The water from her palm seeped down between his fingers, "I'm just sick. Not covid-sick, but some sort of sick," she smiled, "I'm certain of it. So don't scare yourself,"

Remington let out a relief-filled exhaled, "I'm still here for you, sweetheart," he promised.

"What made you think I was pregnant?" she asked.

"Sebastian," he replied sheepishly.

Eva smiled, "Oh brother. Probably brought it up from his own scares with Larissa,"

Remington chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, "I just wanted to make sure,"

Remington stirred a pot of Campbell's chicken soup as at the sun began to dip into the late afternoon. He had his playlist at a very low volume as to not wake Eva who was sleeping soundly in her bedroom. He dipped a finger into the pot and had a taste, relieved everytime he was able to taste and smell something. Not bad Remington, not bad at all. He took the soup off the stove and poured it into a bowl; mushroom soup was Eva's favorite but Remington figured some blander, less dense foods would be better for her.

He took the two bowls of soup into the bedroom where Eva slept soundly. He turned on and dimmed her lamp so it wouldn't be too hard on the eyes. Placing the bowls on the bedside table he gently shook her awake.

"Hey... honey," Remington said softly, smiling warmly at her, "I made some soup if you're hungry,"

Eva slowly opened her heavy eyes, rubbing the sleep away and become aware of where she was again. She was relieved to see his dark eyes staring back at her. A savoury smell wafted through her nose and she looked over at the bowls, sitting up against the headboard and he brushed the loose hair from her face.

"Thanks," she smiled, her voice hoarse as Remington carefully handed her one of the bowls and a spoon. He sat beside her, stirring bits of chicken around in the creamy liquid.

"I know it's not 5 Michelin Stars or nothing..." he simpered.

Eva smiled and kissed his cheek, "This is perfect,"

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"A bit," her stomach having settled after taking some medicine earlier. The smooth, salty goodness of the soup was a nice comfort as it soothed down her throat.

"I did a little bit of reading on your symptoms," Remington said, "Vomiting, nausea, cramps... sounds like you just got a case of food poisoning,"

Eva quirked an eyebrow, "Food poisoning?"

He nodded, "There was a salmonella outbreak at a chicken farm a few weeks back and they just did a recall,"

She smiled weakly, "And I had a chicken burrito yesterday, hence why you're not sick,"

Remington laughed, "Veganism's looking more and more enticing, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I appreciate your expert diagnosis, Dr. Leith. Which means I can kiss you with no recourse, now?"

He smiled and placed a warm hand on her pale cheek, "Absolutely," and he pressed a kiss to her lips, "Even if it was something else, I'd take the risk, anyway,"

Eva smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder, relieved that she could be somewhat affectionate with him again, "You're too lovely,"

"I love you," he smiled at her.

She nudged at his foot with hers, "I love you more,"

"Bullshit," he giggled, kissing the top of her head, "That would be impossible,"

They heard the clicking of claws tapping across the floor, and the bed jolted momentarily as Pluto came crawling towards them. The tabby sat at their feet, staring at the bowls with great expectation. Eva rolled her eyes.

"Relax kitty, I'm still gonna' feed you,"

Remington stood before the bathroom mirror, runnings his fingers through the sides of his hair. His eyebrows were drawn tight to crease at the centre of his forehead and his mouth was pulled into a straight line.

"Should I cut my hair?" he asked, a sensation of uneasiness washing over him. This wasn't even the longest he had had it before, but there was something off putting about the bangs hanging over his eyes, now dyed blue from yesterday's sheer boredom.

"I think it's cute," Eva commented, redressing after her shower. She was practically back to normal after two days of sticking her head in the toilet bowl and feeling like a techno rave was running at full force in her stomach. Remington had taken exceptional care of her, especially considering his lack of knowledge on how exactly to take care of sick people.

She wrapped her arms around Remington's waist and peered over his shoulder, and her eyes lit up at his reflection, "Oh, God! Rem you look so good! I say let it grow!"

Remington chuckled, "Love the flattery, but I'm not sure. Maybe it's the blue?"

"Remington, you look fucking hot," Eva stated, her eyes glued to his reflection.  She kissed his neck softly and let go to sit back against the sink counter, admiring the silvery blue coming to life under the lights. She watched as he grabbed his usual jar of hair spray and put his liberty spikes into place.

"One day you're gonna go bald from all that product," she teased.

"Shoot me if I ever go bald," Remington joked.

Eva shook her head, "Nah, I think you could pull off the egg look. I might shave your head in your sleep just to see what you look like," she winked, "I'd still find you sexy, regardless,"

Remington smiled and pulled her lips to his, dipping down and kissing her hard. He grinned against her lips and placed a hand on her jaw, "Please don't get sick again -- I missed kissing you like this too much,"

Eva laughed and kissed his nose, "You're so corny, I might go purposefully contract something just to get away from you,"

Remington's jaw dropped in faux shock as Eva laughed cheekily, pecking him on the cheek and dashing past him. Remington chuckled to himself, quickly fixing his hair once more before following her out. He descended down the stairs of his house with his laptop in hand, having been scheduled for a zoom call with the band's management team to run through the plan and protocol for shooting their next music video. Since all tours and events were called off, and with the release of their graphic novel coming up, the brothers figured they had a perfect opportunity to put their creativity to work.

"How long's your meeting?" Eva asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet for water.

"Probably no more than thirty minutes -- maybe an hour should we get a little sidetracked," he replied, grinning coyly.

Eva simperede, "Only you guys could find new ways to goof off on Zoom meetings," she had her own things that she unpacked from her bag for work, "I can go upstairs if you want,"

"No, no, you stay on the couch. Me and Emerson are going to be in the studio," he said.

"Emerson and I," Eva corrected as she plopped onto the couch, smiling smugly.

Remington rolled his eyes, "My bad," he leaned over the couch and pressed a kiss to her head, "I won't be long,"

"I'll be here," she grinned.

Remington then went to the bottom of the stairs, "EMERSON! C'MON!"

"I'm coming!" the younger brother fumbled around before he came trotting down the stairs, his dishevelled hair and dark eyes making him look as though he had just rolled out of bed, "You know you're loud enough that Canada can hear you?"

Remington’s only response was a petty raspberry. 

“Get along, boys!” Eva called as they meandered their way into the studio space.

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Emerson grumbled.

“Oh, quit being such a stick in the mud,” Remington huffed.

The rolling chair Remington sat on made gentle squeals as he turned on his spot, listening to his manager and the rest of the band drone on and one about plans to further promote The Bastards, as well as try to salvage what entertainment plans they could given the circumstances. 

“I definitely think we should do another music video,” Sebastian pitched.

“Tonight is the Night I Die?” Remington grinned hopefully.

“Another animation?” their manger, Jeremy asked, “I can get back in touch with the animators for Little Bastards --”

“Do you think it would be possible to do a live action video, instead?” Emerson asked, drumming his fingers on the table anxiously, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved the animation, but you can’t really portray the same emotion we would in real life. I mean -- the most Rem’s avatar did was looked shocked over and over,”

Jeremy rubbed at his chin with unease as he thought it over, “... Well... I can definitely look into it but it won’t be the same kind of shoot that you boys are used to. We’re going to have a lot of safety protocols, and there’s gonna’ have to be rigorous testing --”

“Well, if Lady Gaga could do it, then we could do it,” Remington said. 

"Michael could direct for us,” Emerson said. 

Jeremy nodded, “Okay. You guys got a story?”

Emerson was quick to respond, “The murder of Aldous Blackwell like in the novel. I want to do full on victorian gothic vampires with stakes and thunder storms and --”

“We can use people in our bubble too,” Sebastian said, “Instead of paid extras as the vampires,”

“Shy would totally be into it,” Emerson nodded. 

“So would Larissa,” Sebastian added. 

Jeremy was jotting notes on a piece of paper out of frame, nodding quickly, “Alright. I’ll look into protocols for filming and I’ll get Brad on location scouting,” 

Sebastian glanced at Remington through his own screen, “Hey Rem, you could ask Eva if she’d want to be part of the video, too,”

Emerson nodded, “Yeah. She just needs to pale out a bit but she would make a cute renaissance vampire,” 

The corners of Remington’s lips couldn’t help but turn upwards at the thought, though he remembered how camera shy Eva could be. Nonetheless, he figured she would no doubt appreciate the era and aesthetic that would be incorporated into the story, and perhaps with a little convincing Eva would happily hop on board? 

“I can see what she says,”

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 66

Chapter Summary - Tom and Ben catch up after Christmas as Danielle and Emma try to repair their friendship.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked as he made room for Benedict to walk past him into his house.

“I love my wife, I cannot put into words how much I love her and my son and the baby she is carrying, I truly can’t, but I need two hours without a teething toddler and I need her to get some fucking sleep because she is like a grizzly bear with a headache from a sore back and Kit waking us, then finally, my parents take Kit and she is saying I kept her up last night snoring, I have no idea what she is thinking, but she was too tired to talk and told me to leave to let her have some rest before I collect him so I just ran,” Ben explained almost frantically. “I had no idea where to go.”

“Why in the hell did you think you could not say that in front of Danielle?”

“Because if she told Sophie, I would be castrated with a rusty knife, slowly.”

“Except she acted as an ear to Sophie yesterday, so she actually has some insight into how your wife is feeling.”

“Shit.” Ben growled, “What time did you say she was back?”

“She said three, but knowing her and Emma, they will get sidetracked on the way back and do something together,” Tom stated as he put some soup in front of Ben. “She baked bread as well, want some?”

“I assume you’re not staying as trim as usual.” Ben grinned as he looked at the fresh bread in front of him.

“I have had to add nearly a mile a day onto my runs, and that is with her feeding me a salad instead of the bread.”

“Lucky prick.” Ben bit into the bread. “Fuck me, I would need to be shoved through the door if I was eating this every day, this is incredible.”

“Yes.” Tom smiled proudly.

“So, how are things, I see she is still around, I thought she had work after Christmas?”

“There was a small incident on Christmas Eve, she fractured her wrist in a biking accident and is currently unable to work, nothing serious, she even seems to have stopped taking anything stronger than a Nurofen for it, but it means she is at a loose end, so she is studying for some enhancement at work, or she does, when she is here, her calendar is like a promo tour for us these days, she has people asking to meet her as often as she is here. Not that that is a complaint, I am delighted, it means she is settling in surely.”

“So she hanging around a while?” Ben pressed slightly.

“I asked her to move in with me, she said yes, so she’s living here now.” Tom smiled.

Ben stared at him for a moment. “Danielle lives here, with you?”

“Yes.”

“That was fast.” Tom gave him a look. “I am not saying it is a bad thing, Hiddleston, calm it, it is just that you were mister ‘as good as celibate’ for so long and now you are effectively setting up the whole devoted home man setting, I mean, Mac seems to own a corner of the living room.” Ben pointed to the area Tom had removed a chair from to allow Mac to have his bed in a sunny spot. “And Danielle is as sensible as an umbrella in autumn, so how did you manage to convince her?”

“I just asked and said no pressure. She is giving it a bit of a trial to see if she likes living in the city.”

“And?”

“It’s been less than a week Ben.”

“Some people don’t give it that.”

“She is gone to lunch with my sister, yesterday she was with your wife for lunch, which I have no idea why you don’t know all of this already and on the way back from said lunch with your wife, she bumped into another friend and made plans for next week.”

“A friend independent of you?”

“Yes, a woman named Nacelle she got to know when working.”

“As a safety officer or as a paramedic.”

“Safety Officer, Nacelle is a makeup artist.”

“Wait, is her name Nacelle Campbell?”

“I have no idea.”

“Her father is Jamaican, mother English, living around Camden somewhere?”

“She looks like she could be that and yes, she lives there.”

“You are fucking kidding me.” Ben smiled in disbelief, “Elle knows Nacelle Campbell?”

“Why are you saying this as though it is something of great note?” Tom asked worriedly.

“She is the most coveted makeup artist there is in these parts, you don’t want to know what her prices are, there are productions on the West End that cannot afford her, I heard Soph say something once, well her colleague did, about getting in Campbell before they both laughed at the idea, saying they would never be able to afford her.”

“She did Elle’s make up for last night, she made her look completely natural yet more radiant.” Tom smiled. “Her fiance helped too.”

“She’s getting married?”

“On the 22nd of June I believe, I have been told to check my availability, we are having them for dinner next week.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Woman actually, Becky Matthews.” He waited a moment to see Benedict’s reaction. “Yes, The Rebecca Matthews.”

“Danielle has some friends in high places.”

“It appears so.”

“So, you actually know her a little?”

“I did not recall her yesterday when I saw her, considering she was in a tracksuit and whatnot, but I remembered her later. They are forcing Elle out to go get some clothes suitable for different events next week”

“So Elle is settling in if she is making all these friends, all is good then, right?” Ben smiled, Toms momentary delay in responding did not go unnoticed. “What happened?”

“She saw a fan interaction with me online this morning when I was out jogging,” Tom began.

“Right?”

“She got upset.”

“Anything untoward?” Ben knew to ask, with some ‘fans’ anything could happen.

“No.”

“So, why the upset?”

“She read comments on it and felt inadequate, but then apologised, saying it was an issue with her and that I did not deserve her reaction.”

“Fucking comments,” Ben cursed.

“None were too bad, I checked after, but a few made mention about the girl being a likeness to Taylor and that I would do well with her.”

“What was her name?”

“Whose?”

“The girl, obviously.”

“I cannot remember, honestly.”

“Well then, you were not interested.”

“It’s not something in Elle, last night I had some socialite nip my ear and leave lipstick on it and she knew there was nothing to worry about, but the comments got her slightly.”

“They get us all from time to time.”

“I just get worried, when people find out, there are going to be some who will do nothing but tear her to shreds.”

“Who are you talking to, I have a PR wife and two PR kids created solely to better me in Hollywood as a family man, the first of which is supposedly not even mine.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, apparently some director we met once that she was photographed with got her pregnant and I know this or don’t know this, pending the source, and I use that term lightly.”

“How do you not let that get to you, how does Sophie not?”

Ben shrugged, “These things have no basis in truth, I think more than once Sophie got upset about it, but getting upset won’t help, we have Kit and another little one coming and we don’t give a fuck what the naysayers say. Danielle is as tough as old boots, she’ll develop a skin against these things, the way you are doing it is best, though, fair dues for thinking if it.”

“It was Danielle’s idea.”

“No shock there, she is a pillar of sense.”

*

Danielle sat waiting in the restaurant for Emma, it was fifteen minutes after they were supposed to turn up and there was no sign of her, no text or call to say she was late. Terrified that she had decided not to show, Danielle’s breathing increased slightly, as she was about to text Tom to ask him what to do, she noticed the blonde hair of her friend enter the restaurant. “I am so sorry, there was something delaying the Underground, I was going to go topside and text, but since a train could come at any moment, I thought it best to wait and well, there’s no reception in the tunnels.”

“You’re fine.” Danielle smiled politely. “How are you?”

“Not going to lie, hungover.” Emma’s confession made her laugh. “Did you go to that party with Tom last night?”

“Yeah, didn’t get too tipsy, but I played it smart.”

“Fuck you, I am dying.” Emma groaned.

“What’s good hangover food here?”

“All day breakfast,” Emma stated. “So long as you are not on a diet now.”

“I ate lasagna yesterday, what do you think?”

“They will eat you alive for not being skinny enough,” Emma warned.

“If they think I am fat, well then, I’ll threaten to eat them.” Danielle shrugged in return causing Emma to laugh for a moment. “So what is new with you?”

The meal passed swiftly enough, both women catching the other one up on what they had missed in the time they had not really been speaking with one another.

“So, you like London?”

“It’s been four days.” Danielle laughed.

“You were here before Christmas too apparently.”

“Working my ass off, I could have been in outer Uzbekistan and not have noticed anything.” Emma nodded in agreement. “So now I have been here with actual time to look around and of the four days, I have had lunch out for two, I will apparently never get my study done.”

“How is your hand.” Emma seemed almost awkward asking about it.

“It’s fine, the brace is a pain, though, I keep forgetting to take it off going for a shower.” she looked down at it. “I mean, it could have been worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Danielle silenced. “I was such a bitch, I made you feel like you couldn’t come to us.”

“I was being a tad dramatic too, I should have just called Tom regardless, that was my own foolishness, but as I said before Em, it’s done.” She smiled.

“I got you something.”

“Emma.” Danielle scolded.

“I love the jacket you got me.” She smiled meekly, touching the jacket that was on the back of her chair before grabbing her bag. “I was being petty and bratty, I didn’t even get you a present, I feel really crappy for that.”

“How were things after we left?”

“Are you kidding, I could have dealt with being yelled at, mum just looked at me and said how disappointed she was that I would do that to two of the people that love me the most in the world, I felt as though I was three inches tall, not because of her saying that, although it hurt, because it is true, Tom is my brother, and he does so much for me, and you, you have always been there for me, no judgement, more so than girls I went to school with, you actually give a fuck.”

“Damn right.” Danielle smiled with a wink.

Extending her hand, Emma held out her gift. “It’s nothing mad, I promise.”

Danielle took the present. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but when you see it.”

Emma seemed almost excited for her to see it, so opening it swiftly, Danielle took a moment to study it before smiling. “Thank you, it’s perfect.” She took it out of the small long jewellery box and studied the one lone trinket on it; a small little Celtic knot. “Em.”

“You know what it is?”

“A friendship knot.” She smiled knowingly.

“You know a lot about Celtic stuff.”

“I always loved it, let me guess, Jack?”

“Yeah, he told me about it. There are links for other ones to be added.” She explained.

“Thank you.” She pulled Emma in and hugged her. “It’s perfect.” When she pulled back again, Danielle went to put it on, wincing slightly as her wrist seemed to fight her actions to open the clasp. For a second, Emma watched her before her guilt became too much and she extended her hand and took the bracelet, silently placing it around her wrist before Danielle looked at it. “Thank you.”

“I really am sorry Elle.”

“It’s done, what time are you heading to Belfast?”

*

Tom left the room while Ben rang his mother regarding him collecting Kit and headed to the kitchen with the cups he and Ben had used for their tea, checking his watch as he went, he smiled, seeing it was almost four and since he had not received a text from Danielle, he concluded she was having a good time with Emma. Putting the cups in the sink, he took out his phone to text her to ask how she was getting on, a moment after he pressed send, a phone beeped next to him, it was then he saw her phone charging in the socket next to the kettle. It had not been there when he went to make the tea and he saw her put it in her pocket as she left. Looking around, he realised that her bag and coat were also in the kitchen, going to the hallway, he called up the stairs before walking back towards the kitchen just as Ben came out of the living room.

“Everything alright?”

“I think Danielle is back.”

“And?”

“She only left at twelve, she and Emma always take forever to have lunch.”

“Well, they are still patching things up, maybe they didn’t want to overdo it,” Ben suggested. “She’s outside if you want to ask her.”

Tom looked to the kitchen window, sure enough, Danielle was in the garden wearing the clothes Tom noticed she seemed to do the vast majority of the housework in, as she stood on a stepladder. “What is she doing?” He asked fearfully, worried that with her injured arm, she could end up even more injured.

“She appears to be putting up a little birdhouse,” Ben noted.

Tom walked outside, opening the door slowly and letting Mac give Danielle notice to his presence. “Darling?”

“Oh hey, is Ben gone home?” She asked as she looked around, but the other actor came into her view, answering her question. “Hey, Ben.”

“Elle.” He nodded. “Nice job you’re doing here.”

“Elle, what are you doing?” Tom half demanded. Danielle’s smile fell immediately. “How long have you been home?”

“Since three, like I said I would be,” she stated, her voice small.

Benedict looked at Tom who seemed somewhat angered. “Tom?”

“Why are you doing that, you should have asked me, what if you fell, you shouldn’t be using your hand like that, you are supposed to be resting it? Why didn’t you tell us you were back?”

“The living room door was closed over, I heard your voices but I didn’t want to interrupt, you could have been talking about anything, work, personal things, Avenger stuff.” She rambled.

Tom finally seemed to realise she was somewhat meek as a result of his manner, “Elle,” he walked over to her, helping her off the stepladder. “I’m sorry, I just was worried.”

“I put up the birdhouses in my house too.” She stated. “I have a tiny fracture, seriously, I have a copy of the x-ray, it’s called a hairline fracture, because it is the width of a single hair, it is tiny, I am not going to lose my balance, fall to the floor and shatter.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, I…How many bird things have you put up?” He asked, looking around.

“There are three nesting boxes and a few feeders.”

“They’ve different foods in them.”

“Because different birds like different food.” she laughed before realising something. “You didn’t know that?” Tom’s cheeks reddened slightly. “You sweet summer child.” She shook her head as she spoke, causing Benedict to chuckle. “I suppose you are going to tell me you did?”

“I said nothing.”

“That’s a no then.” She shook her head smiling before turning back to Tom who was studying the bird boxes. “Are they okay? You said I could…”

Tom gave her a warm smile that made her anxiety at his early sharp tone dissipate. “Yes, they are lovely, I just overreacted to seeing you on the ladder, I was worried, yes, they are nice, you did a great job. How was lunch?”

“Good,” She smiled happily.

“You’re never back this early.”

“Emma and Jack are off to Ireland to his family for a few days, she said this over Christmas, their flight leaves this afternoon, but we wanted to catch up for a bit before she left.” She explained.

“So when you said three…”

“We finished up at two, but I wanted to get these so I was delayed coming back.” She stated as she tidied up the few last bits from her work. “Now, in a few days, this place should have birds.”

“Why a few days?”

“Because they don’t know it’s here yet, they’re not telepathic.” She laughed at the men’s confused faces, “I hope your parents didn’t pay too much for those educations of yours, you haven’t got a clue between ye.” She commented walking back into the house. “By the way, Ben,” He looked at her. “You really need to get Sophie a mammy spa day, she is stressed as fuck, she needs a day to get to relax.”

For a moment, Ben just stared at the spot Danielle had been standing in before shaking his head, “How the fuck did I not think of that?” Taking out his phone, he began googling.

Danielle smiled as she put on the kettle for her tea before washing her hands. “What’s this?” Tom extended his hand to the bracelet now dangling from her left wrist. “Did Emma…?”

“Yeah, it’s a friendship knot.” She explained, holding it up for him, a hopeful smile on her face.

“That’s wonderful, so it went well?”

“Yeah,” Danielle curled in against his chest.

“Are you alright?”

“Tired.”

“I was thinking, how about a takeaway tonight?”

“That nice Indian place?” Tom made a noise of confirmation. “You are speaking my language.”

[scourgewins]

Mafia AU (Part 2.1)

(Chapter 2 has been a ride, folks! A ride that hasn’t yet ended! The second part of part two has yet to be completed, but I figured the first part was ready for public display, so here we are. I’m kind of nervous about the end result, but oh well; we’ll see how this goes.)

(Warnings: Guns, gunfire, hangover, mention of being drunk)

(Note: The song mentioned, “I’ll Be Seeing you,” was written by Sammy Fain (That name!) with lyrics by Irving Kahal. It’s been performed by many famous singers, such as Billie Holiday and Frank Sinatra. It’s a great song; I recommend it.)

It wasn’t that Sammy hated Henry’s side. Sure, Wally could be a pain sometimes, and Jack could be insufferable, but everyone else didn’t bother him. Henry was a good boss, if a little too lenient. The mob was efficiently run, and its men were highly capable. No, Sammy wasn’t a traitor because he didn’t like them, he just didn’t like them enough to stop spying on them for Joey.

Sammy sat up in bed, groaning slightly. His hangover was much better than it had been yesterday, but he still felt a dull ache just between his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sammy glanced about the sparsely furnished room. He’d spent the past two nights in Henry’s headquarters, being too hungover to walk home or report to Joey. Hopefully he won’t be too mad. Joey was a much stricter boss than Henry.

Maybe I’ll just lie and say they tightened security. Sammy reasoned, Joey might believe that.

Even in his hungover state, Sammy sensed the tension in the air. Everyone was waiting to see if Joey would attack. Sammy knew he probably would give some sort of demonstration of his power, but wasn’t sure how large scale it would be. As long as the bullets don’t hit me, I don’t care.

Pulling on his shoes, Sammy ran his fingers a few times through his long hair, before stepping into the hallway.

After showering and eating breakfast (which consisted of one can of bacon soup), Sammy felt almost normal. He descended down the stairs to the parlor. As he neared the bottom, piano music reached his ears, and he quickened his step.

Matt was sitting at the bench for the grand piano that nobody used except him and Sammy. The morning sun streaming through the window cast a pale light over him and the instrument. Matt was playing a wild tune, in an obvious attempt to relieve his stress. Sammy glanced toward the door. He wouldn’t be able to slip out to report to Joey till nightfall, so he might as well relax now.

He slid in beside Matt, who jumped, missing a note. The anxious musician turned to Sammy, before relaxing when he saw it was just his friend.

“Everyone’s so jumpy around here.” Sammy remarked.

“Yeah, well, it’s for good reason.” Matt replied, turning back to the piano, his fingers dancing along the keys, “None of us know when or if Joey will retaliate.”

Sammy looked down at the keyboard. Without even thinking about it, he began to play something in perfect harmony with what Matt was playing. Matt glanced at him, his solemn face lightening to give him a wan smile. The two musicians played their duet in perfect sync, years of practicing together taking hold. Sammy’s mind traveled back to the days when the two of them had performed at clubs together. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Without warning, Matt changed the key he was playing in, forcing Sammy to compensate. It was an old game they played, that had never grown old. Matt continued to randomly switch the key. Sammy missed a few notes, but for the most part was able to keep in harmony. At last, slightly breathless, Matt stopped.

“You’ve still got it.” He sounded more cheerful than before.

Sammy grinned, “I’ll never lose it.”

Matt smirked, resting his hands in his lap, “How’s your hangover?”

Shrugging, Sammy answered, “It’s not so bad anymore.” He knew what was coming next.

“I saw you when you came back the other night.” Matt’s smirk widened into a grin, “You were singing like a drunken sailor.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, pretending to be not at all embarrassed by the event, “I wasn’t that drunk.”

“I’ve seen you drunk before,” Matt continued, ignoring his friend, “but boy, were you drunk this time!”

Sammy pursed his lips, “Can we change the subject?”

“Nope!” Sammy nodded, understanding his plea would go unheeded. Knowing Matt, he’d probably find every possible way to bring this up for as long as he lived.

Or until I betray him. The thought snuck into Sammy’s mind and refused to leave. He knew Matt would one day discover Sammy had been betraying them, probably sooner than later. That was one of the snags in the plan. Sammy had no wish to betray Matt, but he was fine with betraying everyone else. Well, everyone else except Susie. She was the other snag.

Sammy tried to shake the guilt away; they didn’t know yet, so he might as well enjoy his time with them as long as he could. He quirked an eyebrow at Matt, “You’ve been plenty drunk before, too.”

“Yeah, except I could still walk and talk sensibly. Lacie had to drag you back while you babbled like a baby.”

Sammy opened his mouth to counter, but realized he had nothing to say, so instead crossed his arms and glared disgruntledly down at the keyboard. His friend seemed to sense he’d won this round of teasing, and began to play the piano again, humming contentedly. It was difficult for Sammy to remain angry when there was music to be played, so he soon joined in, and the two resumed their game, though this time Sammy changed the keys and Matt had to keep up. “I thought I heard you two making a racket down here.”

The lilting, slightly flirtatious voice Sammy knew well came from right beside his ear, and the musician felt his muscles tense as his face grew hot, his fingers stilling on the piano. Looking up, he saw Susie standing beside him, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

Matt glanced up, “You call it racket, we call it music.”

The singer glanced at Matt a moment as he spoke before her attention returned to Sammy, “Oh? Well, I think it could use some vocals, right Sammy?”

Sammy felt his heart rate speed up as he met her gaze. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Susie grinned, “Perfect. Play something I know.”

Sammy exchanged a glance with Matt, “How about ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’?”

Matt nodded, “I’ll lead.”

He shifted his seat on the piano to better reach the keys he needed. Sammy did the same, and Matt began to count. Susie cleared her throat.

“1,2,3,4-”

“Hey, Susie!”

The one note Sammy had managed to get in died out as the musician cast his gaze up to the ceiling, inhaling deeply. Jack sauntered up to them, a rifle slung over one shoulder.

Susie turned to look at the newcomer, something flashing in her eyes, “Hello, Jack.”

Jack surveyed the three of them, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like we’re doing, genius?” Sammy huffed. Jack glared at him and Sammy returned the glare with equal vehemence.

“Are you going on sentry duty?” Matt’s question did little to break the tension.

Jack glowered at Sammy a second more before turning to Matt, “Yes. Bertrum and I are to relieve Winona and Lacie. Security has had to be much more vigilant ever since that incident at the speakeasy.” Jack’s gaze switched back to Sammy.

Sammy ground his teeth at the accusatory tone, “Shawn and Wally started the fight. I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t help anything, either.”

“Jack,” Matt sighed, “Why don’t we just move on from the whole event, huh?”

Matt was being a real hypocrite right now, but Sammy knew he was just trying to diffuse the situation, which Sammy was not grateful for; he could fight his own battles.

“I would,” Jack said, “Except Joey is going to attack us if we ‘just move on’.”

“Well, shouldn’t you get outside, then?”

Jack crossed his arms at Sammy, “I’m waiting for Bertrum.”

“And I’m sure Joey will patiently wait for Bertrum, too.”

Susie cut Jack off before he could counter, “Why don’t you head out before Sammy starts something?”

Jack’s gaze softened as he turned to Susie, “I can handle myself, don’t worry.”

The singer’s lips pursed, and Sammy knew that was not the reason why she’d asked, “I know, but… I’d… feel better if you didn’t.”

Jack nodded, “Anything for you, Ms. Campbell.” Sammy could almost see Susie trying not to roll her eyes.

“I’ll be off, then.” Jack shot one last glare at Sammy before heading for the door-

Bullets crashed through the windows, the glass shattering in dazzling fragments. The wall sprouted tiny holes as the unseen pellets whizzed past. None of this had time to register in Sammy’s mind before Susie was tackling him and he was falling into Matt, the three crashing to the floor in a heap. Jack screamed, but Susie’s hair obstructed Sammy’s view so that he could not see if the poet had been shot or not. The roar of the gunfire blended with the sound of bullets whistling through the air to form a deadly, seemingly endless cacophony.

Then the firing ceased, as suddenly as it had started. All was quiet except for the sound of screeching tires rapidly receding. Sammy’s heart was hammering in his chest, pounding in his ears. He felt frozen where he lay.

The first to move was Susie, who pushed herself off the two musicians. Sammy’s muscles seemed to thaw, and he crawled off of Matt, rising warily to his feet. Matt inhaled deeply before following suit.

Jack lay curled up on the ground in front of the door, his arms thrown up around his head to protect himself. Matt was the first to move over to him, descending on one knee.

“Did they get you, Jack?”

Jack remained curled up, but said, “I don’t know. Did they?” His voice quavered.

Matt looked the poet up and down, “I think you’re good.”

A sigh sounded from somewhere within the curled up ball, “Good.”

Sammy and Susie moved over to them, and Sammy surveyed the bullet marks on the wall. They were in a messy bunch about four feet off the floor. As Sammy followed the trail, he saw them suddenly rise steeply, above the door, before dying off on the other side of it. Someone’s aim must have been thrown off, he reasoned, if it hadn’t been, Jack would be dead.

He glanced quickly over at the piano, to see that bullets had ripped through its delicate wood. The sight was truly awful, and he turned away, feeling the pain all musicians feel when they see an instrument damaged.

“Lacie! Winona!” Susie called. Sammy remembered they’d been on guard duty.

“We’re fine!” Lacie pushed open the front door, ushering Winona inside. The younger woman’s gaze was cast behind them on the road, as if searching for something. Lacie dragged her the remainder of the way and slammed the door shut behind them.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase and in the hallway, and soon everyone in Henry’s gang was sprinting into the room. Henry was the first down the stairs, Michael right behind him, with Boris loping after the two brothers. Bertrum and Thomas rushed in from the hallway, Bertrum with a rifle in hand. Thomas had shaving cream slathered across his face and wore only a T-shirt and hastily pulled on pants. He had a razor in his one hand, holding it out before him like a weapon. Murray was the last to arrive, practically leaping into the room with a firearm in hand. Everyone pressed into the small space.

“Winona!” Wally’s shrill voice echoed in the hallway, and Emily and Shawn pressed themselves against the wall to let him through. The young gangster sprinted to his sister, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

“Are you hurt?” Wally sounded positively frantic as he looked his sister over, checking for injuries.

“I’m fine, Wally.” Winona replied gently. Wally surveyed her one last time to make sure she was telling the truth, before enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“Great Scott!” Bertrum surveyed the broken glass before him, his wrinkled eyes narrowing, “So it would seem Drew has made his move.”

“Is everyone okay? What happened?” Sammy turned as Henry approached him and Susie. Michael went to check on Jack, and he and Matt hefted the poet to his feet. He looked dazed.

“Everyone’s fine,” Susie said.

“Miraculously.” Sammy added, nodding pointedly at the hole-ridden wall. Henry took in the sight, his brow furrowing.

“Somehow, their aim got thrown off.”

“I don’t know how it happened.” Lacie spoke up, “They must have hit a bump in the road or something.”

“Who did?”

“Norman and Bendy.”

At Bendy’s name, Henry stiffened, something clouding his eyes. Boris lowered his gaze. Everyone knew how much the gang leader and the cartoon wolf missed Bendy and Alice. Sammy figured it must feel like a huge blow to them to know Bendy had fired upon them. He didn’t feel any empathy, though; this wasn’t even his side.

Sammy glowered inwardly. His teammates had nearly shot him. True, they couldn’t have known he was in the room, but they could have figured he might be in the room. He was going to have words with Joey.

“We fired after them,” Winona spoke up, disengaging herself from her brother’s hug, “But I don’t think we hit either of them.”

Henry let out a small sigh and Sammy could see the relief in his eyes; he didn’t want anyone shooting Bendy.

“Alright,” the mob boss’ voice was authoritative, “Thomas, Wally, I want you two to get to work boarding up the windows. Bertrum, Murray, you’re on guard duty. I’ll try to protect you with my ink shields, but you know I can’t hold them for very long; I’ll have to take breaks. Michael, make sure everyone caught in this shooting is okay. Everyone else, assist where you can.” So saying, Henry made his way into the hallway, presumably making for the closet where they kept hardware supplies.

The gangsters all went about their separate tasks. Thomas placed a hand on Wally’s shoulder, gently steered him away from Winona and after Henry. Bertrum and Murray exchanged a glance before heading outside, their guns at the ready. Michael suddenly appeared in front of Sammy, his quick brown eyes assessing him.

“Am I going to live?” Sammy asked drily.

“It would appear so, Sammy.” Michael moved on to check on Lacie and Winona, having finished his examinations of Jack and Matt. Jack was sitting on the piano bench. He looked pale, but otherwise fine.

Sammy smirked, “I thought Susie told you to leave.”

Jack slowly looked up at Sammy, his glare returning, “Shut up!” He pushed past Sammy and stalked after Thomas and Wally. Not so poetic now, I see. Sammy mused.

“Well, that was sudden.” Sammy’s smirk dropped as Susie spoke, and he adopted what he hoped was a cordial expression.

“Yeah, it was.”

Susie’s blue eyes twinkled, “Maybe we can make time for that song later, huh? On a different piano, though.” she added with a nod to the now broken instrument.

Sammy nodded slowly, “Sure thing.” The singer smiled brightly and left the room. Sammy watched her leave. I wish Jack had seen that.

“You’re staring, buddy.” Matt gave his friend a weary smile.

“Yeah, well, I have a right to admire the woman who might have saved our lives.”

“You may be right.” The fact that Matt wasn’t teasing him told Sammy he was shook up over the morning’s events. He was, too, Sammy had to admit, but considering this wasn’t his team, he didn’t feel as rattled as he might have. Besides, they were a part of the mafia; getting shot at was a day-to-day routine.

“I suppose we should help clean this mess up.” Matt gestured over to the broken glass on the floor, which Wally was sweeping up.

“I guess so.” Sammy sighed, and the two friends got to work.

[cartooncrazed]

Night Time Blues

I haven’t written fanfiction in a few years, but Camp Camp has inspired me. This isn’t very good, but well, here ya go.

Also, I don’t swear, so all the swears here are “censored”, so to speak.

You can also read this fic here, if ya prefer

~*Max//vi//d shippers do not like or reblog!!*~

Max had never in his life, felt this utterly and completely  tired.

It probably had to do with the business of the day; he spent most of the morning and afternoon in and out of social service offices with David and his social worker, coordinating foster care paperwork. For the most part, Max just stood around, not really able to do anything. But the entire process of officially being handed over to David and away from his parents was, for some reason, really exhausting.

It had been two months since camp ended-an official two months since his parents dumped him at the God-forsaken, poor excuse of a summer camp and never came back to pick him up. Efforts to contact them had been fruitless; they have moved, somewhere, and no one could trace them ( They must have taken lessons from Cameron Campbell himself , Max had thought resentfully). Seeing as how Max had no relatives nearby who could take him in, Max was stuck with the only person who had ever seemed to give a s—t about him in his life; his camp counselor, David.

Max  walked through the door to David’s apartment, rubbing his eyes and yawning. David noticed, and looked towards Max, worried.

“You okay, Max?” David asked quietly. Max looked up at him, then turned away and scoffed. Why the f–k was David asking him if he was ok, when the camp man himself had bags under his eyes?

“Fine, David.” Max mumbled. He intended it to come out a lot shaper, but fatigue had dulled his boiling anger into a low simmer.

David smiled, then stretched his long limbs before letting out a sigh. “How about we get dinner started then? Spaghetti okay?”

Max shrugged, then plopped himself down on the small couch on the living room. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels idly, not really focusing on what was on the screen. He settled on some action movie, and watched with only mild interest. His eyelids seemed to weigh tons, and the random shooting, fighting and flashy explosions from the television could barely hold his attention.

The smell of dinner coming from the kitchen, however, did manage to pique his interest. His tiredness was quickly replaced with hunger, and he found his eyes flickering more towards the kitchen than towards the TV screen.

A few more minutes passed before Max heard the ding on a timer. “Almost ready!” David called cheerfully from the kitchen. Soon they were both seated at the small kitchen table, mouths watering over their plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

Max tried to pace himself at first-really, he did-but he could never quite control himself when it came to David’s cooking. For most of his life, Max’s parents hardly, if ever, made him anything. Most of the time Max had to survive of freezer burnt microwave dinners, cans of soup, or boxes of stale crackers. In comparison, the spaghetti was divine.

“You like it?” David asked, smiling.

Max looked up from his plate to glance at David, then quickly looked away. “It’s okay, I guess.” He mumbled, spooning more spaghetti in his mouth.

David chuckled, then went back to his own meal.

Within the next hour, Max was lying in his bed in the guest room of David’s apartment. The room was mostly bare, save for Max’s bags, but David had promised they could decorate it together later. Max  buried his face further in his pillow as he thought of David’s stupid smile, thinking about starting a stupid DIY project together to liven up his room. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to that, at all. Really.

For once in his short life, Max found himself able to fall asleep fairly easily. The normal insomnia that plagued him seemed to have disappeared, for this night at least. Before long, Max’s breathing became steadier, and he found himself drifting off into sleep.

—

David’s eyes were also feeling particularly heavy. The day with social services had drained him as well. David had no idea how difficult it would be to take in a kid. Providing for him was one thing, but dealing with the  system was another. Due to David taking care of Max over the summer as a camp counselor, he convinced Max’s social worker to let him begin fostering Max, although he hadn’t quite completed all the training courses yet, and he barely scraped by on the income requirement. He still had a lot of paperwork to fill out too, not to mention the stipulation that he find an appropriate sitter for the times David wouldn’t be home. He also had to start preparing for Max’s first day of school next week…

David sighed, and sank deeper into the couch. “I really hope I don’t screw this up…” He mumbled to himself. He decided to stay up for a few more hours, doing some research on child care on his laptop, while another movie played in the background. After a while he couldn’t fight the sleepiness anymore, and headed off towards his room.

Before he reached his room, however, he stopped outside of Max’s door. For just a moment, he thought he heard something.

David pressed his ear against the door and listened for the mysterious sound he heard before. Sure enough,there it was again. It was faint, as the sound was muffled through the door, but he could hear it: it sounded as if someone was shuffling around in Max’s room, maybe even pacing. David listened closer, and though he heard sniffling as too. A scared whimper, sniffling, then more shuffling.

Panic burst in David’s chest; his first thought was that Max had somehow gotten hurt. Although he normally knocked to respect Max’s need for space, he couldn’t help but fling open the door in a rush.

“Max! Max, what’s wrong?” David shouted, glancing around the room frantically. His eyes landed on Max, who was currently throwing every last piece of clothing out of the drawers and onto the floor of his room. David stood into the entry of the doorway, stunned, before he found his voice again. “Max?”

He seemed to have heard him that time. When Max turned around, David stepped back in shock.

He had never seen Max like this before. The boy’s cheeks were stained with tears, his eyes red and puffy from obvious crying. His hair was a tousled mess, and his chest heaved up and down with long, shuddering breaths. His eyes shone with fear, but once he realized he was looking at David, the all too familiar anger and irritation returned.

“Leave me the f—k alone, David” He screamed, throwing what appeared to be an old t-shirt at David with all the anger he could muster. David caught the shirt easily.

Concern ever growing, David stepped into the room and looked about the mess strewn about. “Max? What is going on? Is everything okay?”

Max let out a low growl of frustration. “Would you stop asking me if I’m okay every 5 seconds! What the hell is wrong with you?” He replied, obviously trying to deflect the question.

“Well…it’s because I care about you Max. I’m concerned, and I just…” David hesitated. “I just want to do what’s best for you. Besides,” He said, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ve think you’ve given me reason to be a little concerned tonight.”

Max went quiet for a moment, glaring at David-though the normal heated anger in his eyes just wasn’t there. He let out a long sigh, then mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” David asked, stepping closer to Max; but not too close, still wanting to give Max some space.

“I can’t f—king find it.”

“Find what?”

Max grew quiet again. “M-my bear.” He stammered out quickly. “I can’t find Mr. Honeynuts” He felt his face grow hot, and he couldn’t bear to look David in the eyes.

David crouched down to be at eye level with Max. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure we’ll find him. You brought him with you when you came to stay with me, right?”

“Of course!” Max replied. “There’s no way I’d leave Mr. Honeynuts in that f—cking hellhole with my parents.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to look for him together! Two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?’ David offered with a smile. Max rolled his eyes, not willing to admit that he was grateful.

So, it was at 2am that the pair decided to search the apartment for the missing bear. While cleaning up Max’s room, they looked over his space with a flashlight. Next was David’s room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and finally the living room. As time wore on, Max grew  more worried. The determined look that had settled onto his face earlier had slowly worn away, until he was back in the anxious state David had found him in.

“Where do you last remember seeing him, Max?” David asked, as they both sat  down on the sitting room couch.

Max thought for a while, his brow knitting in frustration. “The last I saw him was in my room…” He trailed off, trying to remember exactly where in his room. It had been a hectic few days.

They sat  in silence for a few moments, before David spoke up. “Hey Max…why were you looking for Mr. Honeynuts so late, anyway?”

Max stiffened next to him. Rather than replying, the boy pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, his green eyes turned away from David.

David hesitated. He didn’t want to pry, yet he already had a feeling what had made Max so frantic. This wasn’t the first time Max had a nightmare since living with him, but it was definitely one of his worse ones. Should he bring it up? Comfort him some way, but how?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” David said, figuring it was best not to push so much. Max was still very much closed off and wary of sharing too much, even though he had warmed up since Parent’s Day.

Max nodded. To fill the silence, David turned on the television. They sat awash in the neon blue glow of the television, watching a nature documentary. Almost an hour passed, with David slowly nodding off, but Max on high alert. He knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight without Mr. Honeynuts by his side. So for the time being, he watched the nature documentary drone on. Ironically enough, it was about bears. The topic kept him thinking about his own bear. He hadn’t slept with him in a couple nights, not feeling the need to. He did, however like to have Honeynuts near by. He used to  hide the bear under his bed in the suitcase he used to carry his stuff from his parents house, until David had found him with it one night. Although it wasn’t worth it to hide him anyway, Max still felt the sting of embarrassment every time he remembered David knew.  Recently, though Max had noticed the bear had gotten kind of grimy, and then-

“Ah!” Max exclaimed aloud. David jolted from his sleep, turning to look at Max.

“What what is it? What’s going on?” David asked groggily.

“I remember! I left Mr. Honeynuts in my pile of laundry. Because he was dirty!” He said excitedly, springing up from the couch in an uncharacteristic show of enthusiasm. “David, when did you last do laundry?”

“Hm…About two days ago…I think I do remember seeing Mr. Honeynuts on top of your clothes. When I brought the laundry back he was there, before I started putting away clothes. But I didn’t see him in the end, so I thought you had taken him.”

“When did you last see him!?”

“Um…last time was when I brought the laundry basket from the laundry room and into the living room. But we didn’t see him in here…” David said sadly.

A thought suddenly occurred to Max. Duh! Why didn’t he think of this before!?  He grabbed David’s flashlight, then looked underneath the couch.

And there was Mr. Honeynuts, splayed underneath. Max couldn’t  reach him fast enough, but his short arms couldn’t quite make it. David reached under the couch, grabbing it for him and handing it to him.

“He must of rolled under there when I was doing the laundry.” David said, relieved. “Ah, I’m sorry I didn’t notice Max.”

The boy was too busy clutching his bear to his chest to reply, burying his face in Mr. Honeynets head. For a moment, David realized he looked like an actual ten-year-old; no cynicism, no bitterness or anger-just the pure relief and vulnerability of a kid who found his beloved teddy bear.

Max looked up at David, mumbling a quick thanks. David smiled; somehow Max being embarrassed made him even seem more child-like. “No problem, Max. Let’s get back to bed, huh?” David suggested, reaching for the remote to turn off the television.

Max nodded before heading towards his room. David walked with him there, and looked over the room one more time to make sure they had gotten everything put back in place.

“Goodnight, Max.” David said, before turning to leave.

“Um, David. Wait.” Max said. David turned back around to find Max sitting up in his bed, looking suddenly nervous.

“Can you…uh…can you leave the door open? Just a little?” He asked, his voice small. David’s heart felt heavy. He hated seeing Max this scared; it was a good thing they found Mr. Honeynuts when they did.

“Sure, thing Max,” David replied softly. “And just so you know, I’m just down the hall. If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to come get me, okay?”

“Yeah…Thanks David.” Max replied, a small smile crossing his lips.

“Goodnight kiddo”

“Night David.”

David walked to his room, and settled down onto his own bed. He knew fostering Max would bring challenges, but if he could help him feel a little bit safer…well, then that just made it all the more worthwhile.