#this is bottom of the barrel content sorry im running out of things that are contextless enough to not be like

[somniumfae]

maid dress + comparing arm size lololololol

[thelanguishing]

found family (mouthpiece x velma)

a/n: more mouthpiece content! velma makes her appearance in the second half. when i first started writing this i didn’t really know where i was going to go with it. as more of it flowed though, i realised that i was addressing the history behind mouthpiece’s street name, which i thought it was a rather interesting thing to cover. the past few days have been pretty productive but also kind of depressing, so its not really been too great. kinda want to take a break from going out with people and working but im also not really working that hard so i dont know what im taking a break from. anyway, im sorry about the digression. i hope you enjoy this! 

word count: 2896 (longest one to date! was supposed to be two parts but i thought combining it would flow better) 

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

Thomas Miller often wished he came from a better family. The kind of family that went to the movies with popcorn and watched a stupid musical. One with a smiling mother and gentle father and lots of siblings. You know, a normal family. 

Instead, what he got was an alcoholic tyrant of a father and a tearful mess of a mother. 

For so long, Thomas could only helplessly run away from the horrific blows every time it occurred. He'd leave the house under his father’s threats, escape to the roof of their dilapidated apartment building, and silently shed a few tears there. His ma would often be bedridden for the next few days or so, crying in her sleep. That tyrant of a father would then return to his seat at the local Irish pub, clutching his bottle of whiskey, inebriated as usual. Within a day or so he’d come back, pretending like nothing had happened, and Thomas and his ma would have to skate on thin ice to delay his next outburst as much as possible. 

On unlucky days, he wound up being his father’s personal punching bag. It was always over the stupidest reasons too — slamming the plate on the table too loudly, mouthing off, looking too resentful. Those dreadful nights were the worst, when he went to bed with belt lashes on his arms and slap marks so hard they turned an angry red the next day. He cried those nights too, hateful of his father for hurting him, resentful of his mother for not defending him, and worst of all, disgusted with himself for not fighting back. It didn't help when he had to fish around for believable excuses when his teachers asked him about the recent wounds he sported. 

I walked into a pole.

I fell into a drain.

I hit my shoulder on the fence. 

As with everything, experience and time gave his lies their essential touch of credibility. The questions eventually stopped.

As far as Thomas could remember, everything that encompassed the word ‘family’ felt wrong. If family meant fighting and hitting and screaming and crying all the time, he didn’t want anything to do with it. But that didn’t stop the jealousy he felt when his classmates’ mothers scraped together everything they had just to buy their sons a new pencil for the upcoming semester. It didn’t help to quell the bitterness blooming in his chest when he saw fathers lift their daughters up into the air, spinning them round and round before holding them close again. And it most definitely didn’t ease the emotional torment of getting kicked and slapped by the person who was supposed to love you most in the entire world. 

By the time Thomas turned fourteen, he’d mastered the art of apathy. It was easier, he decided, to just care about nothing. His schoolwork had already been abysmal at best, and with his less than stellar attitude, his grades slipped ever further. In his opinion, the adults in his life ranged from ‘useless’ to ‘downright liability’. He was destined to a life of being looked down upon by the rich folk on the Upper East Side, and pitied and gossiped about by the loving families on the West Side. No matter where he found himself, it always seemed to be at the bottom of the barrel. 

It wasn’t his fault he was born into such a shitty family. Why did other kids in his grade get loving mothers who bought them Batman comics every week, whereas he had to steal them regularly from Doc’s to get the newest issue? Why did he have to talk to counselors who pretended to care and social workers who didn’t understand a thing about his life? Hell, they wouldn’t survive a day in his shoes. But there they were, on their high horses, trying to offer some shoddy, one-off attempt at ‘emotional support’. 

The last counselor had been particularly ridiculous. She was a young lady, with a naivety and hopefulness only a sheltered girl fresh out of college could have. Within the two seconds they’d been acquainted, Thomas already envisioned the trajectory of the rest of their session. He could basically read her sad, predictable mind.

‘Could you tell me what’s bothering you?’ Yeah, right, like he was gonna be recounting fourteen years worth of childhood trauma to a total stranger within the hour. 

‘So, Thomas, have you tried deep breathing to calm yourself down?’ Sure, because deep breathing could magically heal his bruised rib cage and twisted arm.

‘It’s such a shame what you’ve been through.’ The last thing he wanted was patronizing pity from some privileged trust fund chick. 

As he answered her questions monosyllabically, he could see her lips purse over his uncooperative nature.

And now she probably thinks it’s a result of my ‘juvenile delinquency’, Thomas bitterly mused. 

At the end of the day, these people were all the same. They believed that people like him weren’t destined for anything other than failure. So what was the point in trying to change their minds? 

Fuck that. Fuck the counsellor, thinking she could go round changing the world with this broken system. To get to go to college, her family probably had more money than Thomas could ever dream to have in his next three lifetimes. They were from completely different worlds. She wouldn’t understand a goddamn thing. 

Apathy turned into anger pretty quickly. The defiant streak in him grew each day, resentful at the world for dealing him such a bad hand. When a boy from the grade above Thomas witnessed him pummel another kid to the ground for ‘looking at him the wrong way’, a deal was extended. 

‘Join the Jets,’ the older boy offered.

‘We’ll take carea ya. If ya get jumped we’ll watch out for ya. And we’ll get yous booze and cigarettes and whateva ya want, too. The Jets are brothers, and we’s look out for each other because no one else will.’ The older boy seemed to relish in his monologue, clearly proud of the gang he called family. 

Thomas wasn’t naive. He’d grown up on the Upper West Side, for goodness sake. He’d seen his fair share of rival gangs stake their claim on territory and beat each other up for a couple of blocks of residential housing. The Jets, in particular, had made quite a name for themselves, wreaking havoc in an already chaotic neighborhood. The idea of fighting for something as trivial as territory was all a bit stupid to him. But what did he have to lose, really? The older boy said something about brotherhood. Wasn’t that kind of like a family, but a good one? No one was superior to the other. They were all equal, and brothers at that. They’d band together in times of need instead of turning on each other. He nodded and extended his hand. 

‘I’m Thomas.’ He declared. 

‘Thomas ain’t no name for a gang member. What’re you good at, other than throwing a punch?’ 

‘I… I don’t know. I guess I can make people laugh.’ Thomas admitted, albeit slightly abashed. 

‘How about… Mouthpiece? Yous be our messenger too. We need one of those since the Jets ain’t getting any smaller.’ The older boy mulled over Thomas’s response before offering his suggestion. 

‘Yea, that’s alright.’ 

‘Well then, welcome ta the Jets, buddy boy. Yous one of us now. I’m Action.’ The older boy finally disclosed his name. 

For the first time in fourteen years, Thomas finally felt like he belonged.

--------- 

Several weeks after the recruitment of Mouthpiece, his lone figure roamed the streets in the dead of night. It was basically witching hour, yet he didn’t have the slightest intention of returning home. 

Then again, he didn’t really think that place counted as much of a home. If he were to be completely honest, whatever pathetic home life he had depressed him. But as he so acutely realized, being sad and hopeless offered no protection against the cruel realities of the world. On the contrary, if he was angry, people would fear him. They would know he wasn’t someone who was easily bullied. And having gone through life being thrown around like a punching bag, intimidating others gave him a sickening sense of relief. 

As Mouthpiece let himself aimlessly wander around, he found himself skirting further and further away from familiar Jet territory, until he finally stopped at a fancy apartment building. The freshly painted brick red exterior and polished windows greeted him, a stark reminder of the life he could never even dream of experiencing. 

He hadn’t really wanted to come to see Velma when he was in such a sour mood. But it had been three whole days since he last caught sight of her, what with having to nurse his injuries inflicted by his pa and then having to take care of his depressed ma at home. Pangs of longing would shoot through his gut at random times of the day, and his thoughts would drift to her lilting voice, or her excited laughter. Big Deal had already teased him about it the other day, calling him a lovesick idiot. On any other occasion, Mouthpiece would probably have at least gotten in a light punch as revenge. But Mouthpiece could hardly rebuke Big Deal’s remarks. They were true, after all. And the worst, or best, part was that he found he didn’t really mind. Not if it was for Velma. His Vel. 

His feet glued to the ground, he could already feel a tiny grin creeping up his face as he thought about his girl. When the world around him felt like it was crumbling before his very eyes, she was the only person who could make him feel like none of that mattered. Gazing at that perfect girl distinctly reminded him that she was his world. 

As his mood slightly lifted, he began scaling the fire escapes of her apartment building. It was his first time scaling Velma’s apartment building, but he was a pretty good climber. Careful not to make any loud noises, he quickly found himself standing right outside her window, gently rapping on the glass. 

Pulling up the window to let her boyfriend in, Velma sat back down on her bed, rubbing her eyes as she struggled to stifle a yawn. It was remarkable, really, how she basically had a surprise visit sprung on her at two in the morning, yet she remained unruffled as ever. 

Mouthpiece found a seat on her ottoman, half expecting her to at least question the reason behind his sudden appearance, but what only greeted him was tactful silence. 

That was one of Mouthpiece’s favorite things about Velma. She never really pried for information about anything, offering only silent support. She knew he’d tell her things only when he felt ready, and there would be no pushing on her end. Her gentle, quiet presence gave him time and space to collect his racing thoughts and rambling words, grounded in a security he’d never felt elsewhere. 

They sat like that for several minutes, Velma’s consciousness gradually returning as she patiently waited. She could hear his slightly out-of-breath panting, and the blossoming bruises on his arms under the moonlight. His fists were clean though. 

Okay, so it wasn’t a fight.

Despite not having lived the same broken West Side slum life that her boyfriend and his friends had, she could put two-and-two together quickly enough. Even in that silence, she knew. She always did. 

Finally, Mouthpiece opened his mouth to speak. 

‘Sorry I knocked so late, Vel. I guess I just missed ya.’ He sheepishly confessed, shrugging in a feeble attempt to maintain a facade of nonchalance. 

It took everything out of Velma not to hide her smile. Even though Mouthpiece had always been the more talkative one of the two, he rarely said anything very vulnerable, fearing that his weakness could easily be used against him. It softened Velma considerably, seeing that her boyfriend of only a few weeks already felt comfortable enough to be this honest with her. 

‘I missed ya too. I tried going to Doc’s to look for ya, but I couldn’t find ya around these couplea days.’ 

Ever the perceptive one, Velma realized very early on in their relationship that the only way to keep her boyfriend feeling relaxed in his vulnerability was to be equally upfront on her part. Sharing this seemingly insignificant thing would help, she was sure of it. 

As if by magic, a small smile graced his slightly swollen face. 

‘Ya did?’ 

‘Of course I did, hon. Three days is a long time to go without ya.’ 

As she returned his tentative grin, she situated herself beside him, legs close enough to touch. Her arms circled Mouthpiece and she rested her chin gently on his shoulder. Instinctively, he embraced her back, involuntarily relaxing in her comforting presence.

Only she could make me feel this way, Mouthpiece mused. 

As if she had read his mind, she whispered, ‘Ya know, love, Velma literally means ‘valiant protector’. So even though ya protect me mosta the time, I just wanted ya ta know youse always safe with me too.’ 

Every time Mouthpiece thought Velma couldn’t get any more perfect than she was, he was proven wrong. This beautiful, understanding, compassionate, patient person that was the only safe space for him to run to. 

It turns out that love is a bit of a drug. Life without it is bearable, because you don’t really know what it’s like to live any other way. But drugs are addictive. You can’t really turn back when you’re hooked. And once you’ve had a taste of sweet euphoria, what once was bland now becomes bitter. 

So Mouthpiece really didn’t want to, no, he couldn’t, imagine a life without Velma. 

Humming contentedly, they carefully lay down in bed together, still firmly entwined in each other’s embrace. Careful not to rest too heavily on the new red and purple patches on Mouthpiece’s arms, Velma felt her eyelids grow heavy. It was late, after all, and she had been asleep before those raps on her window. 

‘I just realized I don’t know your name, babe.’ Velma cracked an eye open, watching as that familiar troubled look clouded her boyfriend’s eyes yet again. 

‘I don’t like it much,’ Mouthpiece confessed. Had it been anyone else who asked for his birth name, he would have just feigned ignorance and cracked a joke to throw them off the scent. But this was Velma, and he didn’t feel the need to skirt personal topics around her. 

‘Well, will ya at least tell me what it means?’ 

Admittedly, she was curious about his birth name. They’d been going out for a few weeks now, and she’d never picked up as much as a hint of this. But she’d also vaguely guessed that it was a sore spot for him, and as always, he’d tell her when he was ready. 

‘Actually I don’t know what it really means, but I don’t like the reason it’s my name. It’s my old man’s.’ She could feel him stiffening, clearly trying to tamp down his discomfort in order to answer her questions. It alarmed her. The last thing she wanted to do was to make his clearly horrible day even worse. 

Before she could steer the conversation away from said topic, though, he quelled her doubts. 

‘It’s Thomas. But I hate it.’ 

The venom that filled his voice as he spat that word out conveyed everything Velma needed to know. Despite sharing the same name, he didn’t want to be anything like his father, belittling and uncontrolled, unable to summon a kind word to even those closest to him.

Though it was never directed at her, Velma would have to be blind not to notice the familiar expressions of hatred clouding her boyfriend’s face at almost everyone around him. His family, the social workers, even the people in the neighborhood who had loving families. It was a face contorted by jealousy and bitterness and dejection. And it often was at its angriest whenever the topic of family was broached, just like now. 

‘Yer nothing like your old man, babe. I promise. I know you.’ 

She soothingly rubbed circles with her thumb on his back, wishing for him to one day see himself the way she did. Witty, loyal and with a huge capacity for love. She didn’t know what else she could do, other than offer him her shoulder and give him the solace that he so desperately needed. It hurt her too, just imagining the amount of physical abuse he had gone through all his life, not to mention the broken system he had been thrust into since childhood. 

Life was just unfair sometimes. 

As the mental exhaustion finally began to catch up with Mouthpiece, he found himself slipping into a deep sleep. But in his semi-conscious state, he could hear Velma mutter to no one in particular. 

‘You’ll always be Mouthpiece to me.’ 

It seemed like such a flippant name, one carelessly given to him from one broken boy to another. But to Thomas, Mouthpiece represented everything he could ever want in life. Unwavering brothers, undying love, and an undeniable fresh start. And if this was what family was like, maybe it wasn’t as terrible as it originally seemed.

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: The Future Brings The Past

Gif credit @timbradford

I hope you all enjoy.

Happy Reading Dollies.

Taglist: @jesseswartzwelder. @nocturnalherb16.

Warning: Suicide, attempted murder of a unborn child.

Hank came home after a tough shift, the case he was working on had something to do with Justin. Justin seemed to be up to his old ways again.

He walked into the house like he always did, put his keys in the bowl by the door, kicked his shoes off and locked his gun in the safe. But something was off tonight. There was no sound of you in the kitchen, no humming to music that softly played in the background. No smell of food cooking like always.

Hank felt uneasy, he got his gun out of the safe and pointed it towards the living room as he tip toed across the hardwood floors. He wanted to call out your name but he knew that wasn't a good idea, if there was someone in the house. As he got to the kitchen he saw your painted toenails, he followed your legs they were tied to a chair. He saw that you were tied up and tape across your mouth. Then he noticed the big man beside you with a gun pointed to your head. You were crying and trembling. Your chest was heaving up and down as you panicked.

Hank reached for his phone, he got it out but that was the last thing he remembered as he was struck on the back of his head. Another intruder came up behind him without him knowing and hit him over the head with the end of a gun. You struggled to get loose as you saw his body drop in front of you. A spot of read on his head.

Hank groaned as he moved. His body hurt, felt like he was run over by a mac truck. He brought his left hand to his head and hissed as he grazed the gash in his head. He tried lifting his right hand but he was handcuffed to the heating radiator.

Hank looked up seeing you still tied to a chair and the intruder from last night standing over you. He suspected the one that hit him over the head was standing beside you as well.

"Sergeant Hank Voight, its a pleasure to finally meet you. Justin has talked about you so much". Said the one that had the gun pointed to your head with a chuckle. Voights gun to be exact.  The other stood snickering.

"Whatever you want, take it. Just let her go". Hanks husky voice was dry as he spoke.

"I'll keep that in mind. But for right now I need you to give me the combination to the safe in the basement or your pretty little girlfriend gets it". He nudged your head with the gun.

"No, I can't". Hank struggled agains the cuffs.

"You better tell us or I swear I'll kill her. I'll make you watch as she slowly and very painfully dies". The other one stepped in front of Hank. Which Hank took the opportunity to kick the guys legs out from underneath him and put him in a visegrip with his own legs. Squeezing the life out of him.

"Let him go now". The bigger intruder put the gun on Hank. But Hank didn't blink a eye as he starred into the man's eyes with the barrel of the gun pointed to his head.

"Let him go now". He warned again and cocked the gun. Hank resisted at first but he looked behind the man in front of him and saw you crying and your eyes tightly shut. He let go and the second intruder started coughing and wheezing. Hank met the end of the gun again but it didn't knock him out.

"So you're playing hard. I like the challenge". The big man took out a trash bag and threw it over your head. He was suffocating you. You struggled to breath. The air was being sucked from your lungs as you gasped.

Hank started screaming, kicking his legs as the second man came closer.

"Let her go. She's pregnant". Hank yelled his face turning red, the little vein bulging out on his neck.

The big man laughed as he loosed the bag, letting fresh air in. You sucked it in as fast as it came.

"So you're telling me we have the Sergeant of Chicago's girlfriend and unborn child in my hands? Wow. That will be an amazing reward if they found them both dead. Killing two birds with one stone".

"Let them go and you can have me. I'm worth more to Chicago then they are".

"But they're worth more to you than your own life so I think im going to keep them". He tightened the grip on the bag, taking your oxygen away once more.

"Please, stop". Hank screams as he saw your body go limp.

"Tell me the code".

"Fine". He said with a whisper, his head hanged low.

The big man let go of the bag, still on your head and walked over to Hank, who had tears running down his face.

"I suggest you tell me or after I'm done with your girlfriend I'm going to cut your child out of her. Then I'm going to kill you and leave you on the steps of your sons".

"8-6-12-26". Hank said beat.

"See now was that so hard"? He tapped Hanks cheek with his hand. He got up and walked with the other guy to the basement.  Hank struggled again with the cuffs. Pulling and trying to get his hand free. He managed to get out but at the cost of his hand. It was broken and bleeding as he ran to you. He ripped the bag off your head and checked your pulse. It was there but hardly. He went to the house phone and called 911, they were sending his team and a ambulance to his address.

Hank went to his desk and got out the gun he keeps hidden, he carefully and silently went down the basement steps. The two intruders were going through the safe. Their backs turned as Hank hit the bottom step.

"Find what you were looking for"? Hank spoke spooking them. The big man drew his gun as Hank shot off a shot towards the little man wounding him in the abdomen. He fell to the ground, the bag he had all the contents scattered on the floor.

"I'm leaving and you're going to let me. Or I'll finish your whole family off". The big man demanded. Hank shook his head, the sound of boots hitting the floor above him scared the big man. He fired off shots. Not looking where they went as he lunged towards the window. Hank ran after him as the glass was broken and he was crawling threw.

Hank grabbed his feet, trying to pull him back in but the big man kick Hank in the face. Planting Hank on the floor.

"Hank"!! Antonio's voice rang threw out the basement. The big man got free...for now.

Hank didn't bother to let Antonio look him over or to see if the other guy was alive. He took off up stairs and saw you were being taken out of a stretcher. He followed you out and got in. He was going with you while the team searched.

Hank got his hand bandaged up and the doctor was checking you and the baby out. You were with out oxygen for a little while so they monitored the baby but you on oxygen and made sure you were stable.

Hank kicked himself as he saw the state of you and his unborn child. He could get what the big man said out of his mind.

"Sergeant"? Jay approached Hank with caution.

"Yeah"?

"The suspect didn't make it but we got a name from his ID". Jay handed Hank a piece of paper.

"Any leads on the second guy"?

"No. But we're working on it. We're going to find this guy". Jay reassured him.

"I know we are. I won't stop until he's dead. Now Jay you're going to stay here and make sure no one comes in this room without a ID. If they look suspicious or you get a weary feeling call me. Got it"?

"Yes, Sir".

"Good. I'm going to pay my son a little visit". Hank gritted his teeth as he walked out of the hospital and into Jay's SUV. He gunned it to his sons house to get answers.

"What kind of trouble are you into"? Hank growled as his son backed away from him.

"I don't know what you're talking about". Justin's voice trembled. Hank chuckled and gripped the chair that was in front of him but that chuckled turned into Hank picking the chair up and throwing it against the wall. Justin jumped back.

"You don't know? Two men broke into my house, tied Y/N up and knocked me out. They cuffed me to the radiator and made me watch them put a bag over Y/Ns head as he suffocated her. She's pregnant Justin. Do you know what lack of oxygen can do to a expecting mother and her child? You could have gotten them both killed". Hank sternly yelled.

"I didnt know they were going to come after you. I just wanted out".

"They didn't come after me, they came after my family. So what have you gotten yourself into, Justin? Tell me the truth". 

"I'm sorry dad. I'm in deep". Justin broke down in front of Hank. Hank sighed and walked over to his son bringing him into a hug.

"It's going to be okay. We're going to get through this but you have to tell me the truth from now on. No more secrets".

"Okay". Justin sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"So who were they"?

"Some guys I met at a bar. They were asking around the bar, they wanted guys to help with a job. But it seems they knew who I was and singled me out".

"Names, Justin? Addresses"?

"I just know their names. Brad and Mark Willson. They're brothers".

"You did good, Justin. I'm going to send someone to get you and take you to the hospital. You can help Jay watch out for them".

"I'm sorry dad".

"It's all going to be okay". Hank rubbed his sons shoulder, comforting him. Justin went to pack a bag as Hank called the station putting out a ABP about the brother that escaped. He called Jay to warn him.

"Voight"? Mouse spoke over the phone.

"Yeah? What do you got"?

"The Willson brothers are the sons of Andrew Willson". "The brother you killed in the house was Brad, the other is Mark, the oldest".

"I've heard that name before".

"You should. You arrested him early last year for six counts of murder. He got killed in prison. His family sued the state and lost".

"So they sault out Justin to get to me. They want revenge. They blame me".

"I'm assuming that. Yes".

"Okay, just keep a track on his phone and find him".

"Yes, sir". The line went dead as Hank heard a crash upstairs. He grabbed his gun from his holster and tip toed up stairs. The noise got louder as he came to justins room. A familiar voice made Hank grip his gun tighter, his finger on the trigger.

"You're gonna die, boy". Mark hand his hands around Justin's throat as they wrestled on the floor.

"Let him go. Your problem is with me, not my family". Hank pointed the gun at Mark's head.

Mark let go of Justin and got off him standing with his hands in the air.

"You figured me out".

"It was easy. I just saw the resemblance of a murderer in your eyes".

"My father didnt kill those people".

"There was tons of evidence to put him away, its not my fault he got himself killed".

"It is, you put him there". Mark drew a gun and pointed it at Hank.

"I was doing my job".

"But you were wrong. My dad wasnt a killer. He loved his family".

"That was just a cover. Deep down he was a serial killer. If we didn't put him away, he would have killed you, your brother or your mom".

"You're lying". Mark screamed, his gun shaking in his hand.

"Did you happen to read those papers in your hands when you got them out of the safe"?

"No".

"Then you would have seen your father's confession. Telling me everything he did to those people. How he cut them up and fed them to the sharks. How he did it in your garage. He did it right under your nose and you knew nothing. That's how he fooled you. Always being there but he was never really there".

"Shut up, you're lying".

"I'm not". Hank shook his head.

"Now put the gun down".

"You think I'm stupid? If i walk out of this house I'll be put inside and killed just like he was".

Mark turned the gun on himself, je rested the gun under his chin.

"Don't do it, it's not worth it. Think about your mom, do you really want her burying two sons at once"?

"It's better this way, to save her from the embarrassment". Mark shut his eyes and pulled the trigger, Hank tried to grab the gun before it went off but it was to late. Mark's brains were all over Justin's celling and wall. His body hit the ground with a thud. Hank rushed over to Justin who was still out, he called for back up and a ambulance.

Justin was treated on the scene and Hank gave his statement. All he was thinking about was his family in the hospital.

After they let Hank go and sent Justin to the hospital for observation. Hank went to see you.

You were sitting up in bed, talking to Jay.

"Hey there". You say as Hank walks in.

Jay excused himself and Hank took his seat beside you.

"Everything okay"? You asked, taking Hank's hand in yours.

"Yeah, just a hard couple of days".

"How's Justin"?

"He'll be fine. Well at least until I send him off to training".

"Don't be to hard on him. We're fine. The baby is healthy and doesn't seem to be hurt".

"You sure? I was there". Hank rested his free hand on your stomach.

"Yeah, the doctor did tons of test and ultrasounds. Our son is happy, healthy and kicking up a storm".

"It's a boy"? Hank lite up as he heard.

"Can you handle another son"? You asked with a chuckle but was serious.

"Yeah, but I'm doing things differently this time".

"Don't change to much. Justin's a good kid, he just gets mixed up with the wrong people".

"Then our sons friends will have a back ground check and so will their parents. I'm not taking any chances".

"Oh, Hank". You rubbed his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm also going to be more careful with bringing my work home and into my life".

"I know. We'll take it one day at a time". You kissed his lips. Hank was worried about his unborn son and the life of a cop coming to haunt him. But he'll do anything to protect you and his sons.