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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

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More Days, Fewer Words

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader

Category: angst

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: based on my failed talking stage so this was self indulgent :) also thank you to @hotchsdarling for her help :) <3

-----

Cold.

The word that describes the current state of your relationship with Eddie. He sat across from you in your bedroom, his shoulders hung as he slouched in the chair. Your foot tapping against the floor was the only continuous noise echoing through the room, ever so often Eddie glanced at you before directing his attention back to your tapping foot.

Today was supposed to be a nice day, sunny and hot in El Paso, as were most days but not today. Today was gloomy, grey and raining. The wind that blew through the cracked window was cold -cold enough to cause goosebumps. The words that were spoken lingered in the room although nothing was being said.

“I think I should go” he pipes up, his voice quiet and soft, as if he spoke louder he would break you more than he already had.

“Okay” a whisper left your throat, barely.

Eddie pushed himself up out of the chair and headed towards your door. He stepped out, looking back at you now laying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I-”

Silence.

He sighed, shutting the door. His steps quieter as each went. His voice back to normal as he said goodnight to your parents. The tear rolled down your face, the back of your hand wiping it away when you stand. Eddie stood out in the rain in front of your house, you watched as he looked at your bedroom window. He stood there for a moment and you opened the window. He waited - waited for you to shout for him to come back into the house, for you to do something, anything.

You didn’t.

Shoulder slumped and now rain soaked, he turned and walked the other way.

How did you end up here? Never did you expect him to leave. He was always the constant in your life, there through the good and the bad, as you were for him but something changed. People change and people drift apart. Some things things were just meant to happen the way they happened.

----

Last you heard, Eddie had moved after his wife left. You had seen him at the store and he saw you too. An awkward moment of eye contact was had and you both went your separate ways. His mother was the one that had told you about his move, she kept up with you even after the falling out. She always stopped and spoke to you if she saw you, still sent you flowers for your birthday until this day. She had really started telling you that Shannon had left to take care of her mother, but of course, Eddie was an angel in their eyes so Shannon was left to take all the blame.

Not that you knew Shannon personally nor did you know the ins and outs of her relationship with Eddie but you had heard enough from friends to know that things weren't good. She had commitments, one to take care of her mother and of course, she had one to take care of sweet Christoper but you could understand why she left. It’s hard raising a child when your partner is gone and when he returns, he’s just there with no sense of what’s happening. You would never blame Eddie but you couldn’t exactly blame Shannon either.

So as anyone would, you went to see Eddie’s mom before you left for LA. there was nothing left for you in El Paso, most of your family had moved. You didn’t want to stay there by yourself with all the memories of your past.

It was time for a fresh start.

Imagine your surprise when Mrs. Diaz goes “that’s where Eddie is too!” She had known the two of you stopped talking but she didn’t know why. Neither of you spoke about your feelings and that was part of the reason why the friendship ended to begin with. She told you he had become a firefighter when he moved, he had just gotten a job at station 118.

Something you loved about her, she always told you what you wanted to hear without asking.

She wished you good luck and promised to visit you when she and Ramon came out to see Eddie and with that, you were off.

The entire time, your mind wandered back to Eddie. Surely, he had moved on. He did with Shannon, you couldn’t have given him what he wanted. Stability, a marriage sometime in the near future, a child after that, all things you weren't ready for at that point in your life. Truthfully, you still weren't sure if you were ready now, but maybe and only maybe, would you consider it for the right person.

LA was new and fresh, a clean stale for you to try things and meet people. Right now you were just focused on getting settled in with the new place and the new job. Lauren, the woman whose desk was next to yours asked you to join her and some of the others for drinks after work to celebrate the account the team had gotten earlier. Being new to town and all, you had no other plans so you agreed.

9:30 on a Tuesday night and you were at a bar not far from your workplace.

Lauren and Matt, who you now realized was her boyfriend, were telling everyone about this new fancy restaurant they went to for their anniversary. You smiled and nodded, but truly you were zoned out. Eyes wandered through the bar, from groups much like yours, to couples, some men and women sat at the counter and then a group of people by the pool table. You watched as a shorter man with black hair hit the ball into the pocket, another man, this one blonde and tall, patted his back and then took his turn. Your focus was on them until Lauren called your name.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think about that ?”

“About what ? Sorry, I missed what you said” smiling apologetically at her.

“The restaurant, isn't that crazy ?”

“Yeah it totally is” Lauren hums at your response and carries on with her conversation. Gaze drifting back to the pool table at the other end of the bar, you excuse yourself from the group for a moment. You watch the blonde man miss yet another shot as you walk towards the bathroom. Not that you needed to go, you just wanted to have a better view of the game. Your back was up against the wall, the man with the black hair hit another ball into the pocket and surprise surprise, the blonde man missed again.

“He's totally kicking your ass” stepping forward, your hands resting on the edge of the table. The blonde man looked offended while his friend laughed.

“I am, aren't I ?” he asked you, smiling in amusement.

You nodded, he introduced himself. “I’m Howard, but you can call me Chimney. My friend here is Buck.”

“Chimney ?” your brows raise, he shakes his head, “long story.”

“You are ?” Buck asks, “y/n” you smile.

“Okay, y/n. Think you can do better than me?” he asks, holding the stick out for you. Smiling, you take it, “definitely can do better than that” as you lean over the table, Buck steps to the side and watches as you line the shot up. One hit and the ball rolls into the pocket.

“Yeah, she’s got you beat Buckaroo” Chimney laughs, “Buckaroo ? How cute” you smile, Buck rolls his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him” he says, nodding to Chimney. “Your go man”

Buck lets you take his turn for him, Chimney missed the first one but gets the second one in. Just as you lean to line the stick with the ball, you hear him. His voice still brings chills to your spine. He hadn’t noticed you yet, you can hear him talking to Buck, you glance up ever so slightly to make sure you heard right.

What are the odds that the two of you lived in the same place your entire lives and never run into each other but not even 2 weeks into your move to LA and you see him?

Pushing the feeling and thoughts of Eddie from your mind, which wasn't the easiest considering he's right in front of you, you hit the ball and it rolls into the pocket.

“Good shot y/n!” Buck calls from his chair. You wince, hoping Eddie wouldn't look back but he did. The two of you looking at each other like you were the only people in the room. All the feelings from that day returned, the heavy tension weighing you down. Eddie’s reaction made you want to run, far and to never return, to somewhere you’d never see him. Yet, you were stuck, froze and fixated on him.

“I think I should go.” you hand the stick to Chimney who’s now exchanging confused glances with Buck. “It was nice to meet you guys. Enjoy your game.” you smile at the two men, one last glance at Eddie before walking away. You say goodnight to your friends from work and apologize for just disappearing on them. Lauren and Matt offer to give you a ride as you came with them but you decided you’d walk.

----

Eddie follows his morning routine per usual. Up at 7, wake Chris up, breakfast, shower and get ready, out the door by 8:15 the latest, drop Chris off at school for 8:30 and at work by 9.

As soon as his bag hits the floor, Buck comes running in, Chim hot on his tail. “Good morning” Buck smiles at his best friend, taking a seat on the bench across from Eddie’s locker. “Morning Eddie, how’d you sleep ?” Chim asks, Eddie turns and looks at Chimney, “how did I what ?” Eddie’s face twisted into his typical scowl.

“Sleep, how did you sleep ? Friends ask that don't they Buck ?” Chim faces Buck, his back against the wall across from the lockers. Buck nods but Eddie ignores them, he goes back to changing for work. The room is quiet except for Eddie’s tumbling through his bag and locker and Chimney throwing a tennis ball at the wall across from him and catching it. Buck being Buck, decided to ask the question they had actually gone in there to ask.

“So why did our new friend just up and leave after you showed up?”

Eddie didn't answer, Chimney kept bouncing the ball and Buck asked the same question over and over again in different variations, hoping to get an answer. Finally Eddie turns to face them, the locker door slamming shut. Buck and Chimney’s heads perking up at the sound.

“What do you want to know ?” Eddie asks, Buck opens his mouth but Eddie cuts him off. “You can only ask one question each. That's it” the two men nod, Chim joining Buck on the bench. “Do you guys know each other from your past life or something ?” Buck asks the first question.

“She was an old friend.” Eddie’s simple answer didn’t satisfy the curiosity that Buck and Chimney had.

“What happened between you two ?” Chimney used his question, earning him a sigh from Eddie.

A loss for words wasn't a common thing for Eddie, sure he didn’t confront every problem verbally, that was usually the last option he chose but he looked for the simplest terms to put what happened.

“We drifted apart”

“Oh c’mon! There has to be more!” Buck looks up at his friend who was in no mood for questions, the look on his face was enough to get Buck to stop but did he ? Of course not.

“Eddie, come on. It's us. You can tell us what happened”

“What I say here, ends here. Understand ?” his friends nod. Eddie sits on the bench beside them.

“We were friends back in El Paso. Grew up together our whole lives, everyone thought that we'd get married,” he chuckled at the thought, “but obviously, didn’t happen. It was right after we had graduated, we had feelings for each other but neither of us said anythi- well that’s not true. We admitted that we had feelings once but nothing ever happened. She went off to college and I was still figuring out my life. After I told her I enlisted, we drifted. Hung out less, the calls became shorter and eventually they stopped. The only time we saw each other was if one of us showed up at the other’s place. I told her that I couldn’t have a relationship like this, with nothing happening. I wanted a life together, to get married, to have a kid and she said she didn’t want that, she ‘couldn't give that to me.’ We stopped talking after that. I left and when I came back, I met Shannon, we got married and had Chris.”

“So that’s that. Anyone want a smoothie ?” He stands and waits for an answer, both men shake their heads and he walks out like he hadn’t just told them all of that. Buck and Chim sat there, staring at Eddie walking away. He had this great romance and it ended because they had shitty communication skills ? There was no way Buck and Chim would let this slide, they’d hatch a plan but one that Eddie would know nothing about. Only to figure out how they can get the two of them together in one place.

---

A routine fire drill for an office building was a normal day for the 118. Bobby coordinated with the team from outside. Hen, Chim and Buck all inside the building, they went through various floors checking to make sure they were clear while Eddie was in the lobby.

This was their first shift back after their 24 hour shift as was it the first shift back since the Eddie “I had a friend that I loved but did nothing” bomb was dropped. The team took their sweet time clearing the building, they were supposed to be in and out as fast as they can be because they were supposed to be acting like it was a real fire.

You on the other hand, were now arriving to work. You had a check in with your doctor and called in to say you’d be late. You find your way through the crowd outside of the building and spot Lauren by a corner.

“Hey!” she smiles, you smile back at her. “What’s going on?” you ask her, turning to look at the crowd forming by the door. “Fire drill” she informs you, nodding towards the 2 big red firetrucks parked in front of the building. You hum, the side of the truck had big white numbers that said 118. Why did that feel so familiar to you ?

“He works at station 118 now” Eddie’s mother’s words ringing in your head.

No no no no no, not again. God I hope he isn't working today.

Everyone reenters the building and there he was again. You couldn’t help but look at him. He had grown since you saw him that day at the store, you didn’t know what you were expecting. He stood there, his coat undone and his helmet in his hand, his typically well kept hair was wavy and messy from the helmet. He looked cute, but you wouldn't dare to tell him that. Not then, not now. You look away before he sees you. Making your way up the stairs, you were searching through your bag for your phone when you bumped into someone. Their hands on your arms, “sorry about that” you mumble before looking up.

Buck smiled at you, “it’s okay. I didn’t know you worked here”

“Yeah, started a few weeks ago”

“Hey, why don't you come out with us tonight ? Chimney will be there and my sister Maddie, plus Hen and her wife are coming. She works with us, you’ll really like her” Buck gave you a smile, his eyes pleading for you to join them. He didn’t mention Eddie but you’re sure he would be there. Oh what the hell, you co-existed in El Paso for years, you had the same friends there too, what difference did it make here?

“You know what, sure. Where and when ?”

Buck reached into his pocket for his phone, giving it to you. “I’ll text you the details” you type your number into Buck’s phone. HIs radio went off, someone was looking for Buckley which you assumed was him and it was, he shouted that he’d text you as he ran off down the hallway. Chuckling at the man, you wondered how someone as joyful and sweet as him stayed so joyful and sweet doing a job like his. Surely, he had seen some messed up stuff, there was no way he didn’t. Nothing thinking much into it, you head into work for the day.

----

Buck didn’t take long to text you a name of a restaurant and a time, he also told you to ask for Buckley when you arrived. Work kind of flies by when you have something to do, soon enough you were at home getting ready. The place was 20 minutes from your place, you arrived on time surprisingly. The man at the front smiled at you and led you into the restaurant when you gave him the name. Just as you were walking in, your phone chimed.

From Buck: Okay don't be mad but Hen and Karen can’t make it. Chimney and Maddie are having a date night in and I’m sitting on my couch but have fun

From Buck: But drinks tomorrow I promise, if you’re not mad at me :)

Did he send you here to have dinner by yourself ?

When you looked up, the man had just stopped in front of a table, had you not looked up you would have walked into him. Eddie sat at a table for 2, you look at him and he looks at you. The man excused himself as the two of you are looking at each other like you’re the only people in the place once again.

“Buck ?” you ask him

“Buck.” he answers, you hum.

You pause for a moment. “Well, I can leave. We don't have to st-” “no please, sit” Eddie says, your brows furrow before you sit across from him.

“I didn’t-” “When did-” the sentences cut off each other. Gesturing to him, “you first” your attention on the man in front of you. He takes a sip of water before speaking. “I didn’t know you moved to LA” he says, you hum. “I didn’t know you moved either.”

“Yeah after Shannon-”

“Left. Yeah, your mom told me.”

“How did Buck get you here?” Eddie looks over at you. “Bumped into me during the fire drill. He asked me to come out with the team tonight, to meet them.”

“He told me that he wanted to get dinner and help me plan Christopher’s birthday party”

“Chris has probably gotten so big”

“Yeah, he did” Eddie pulls his phone out to show you a picture. Eddie and Christopher sat on the couch next to Eddie’s grandmother.

“Awe, he’s grown so much. How’s your Abuela ?”

“She's good, she's been helping me out with Christoper since I moved here.”

Your eyes drifting back to the phone that sat on the table, it seemed like a recent photo. The cake on the table read “happy birthday” and Christoper’s arms are wrapped around Eddie’s waist. Chris is laughing with frosting on his cheek while Abuela feeds Eddie a piece of cake. The picture was from Eddie’s birthday, it was from last weekend.

“oh my god, it slipped my mind.” you look at him, Eddie’s brows furrowed and his head tilts slightly. “What’s wrong ?” he sounded concerned.

“Happy birthday Eddie” smiling at your friend- if you could even call him that. Eddie returns the smile. “Thank you”

The waiter returns to the table, asking if you were ready to order. Eddie looks at you, unsure what to say to the waiter. You speak up, “No thank you, I think we’re going to get going.”

“Is there any way we could get you to stay ?” the waiter asks, you smile politely and shake your head. “Thank you but the babysitter called, our son isn't feeling too well so we’re going to head home” now smiling sweetly at the waiter, he nods and leaves. Eddie’s eyes are on you, you could feel them on your from the moment you say “our son”

Getting up, picking up your purse. “It was nice seeing you Eddie”

“Wait! Let me walk you out” he gets up from his seat, he follows you as you make your way through the tables and out of the restaurant.

“No thanks, I’m more than capable of walking myself out” you say with a hint of annoyance in your voice. You’re out on the street walking towards the direction of your car when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist tugging you back slightly.

“I know you’re capable, but please. It’s the least I can do” he gives you a pathetic look, a small pout on his face.

“God, stop it. You know I hate that stupid face” pulling your hand away, you continue towards your car. “What face?” he shouts, jogging behind you as he follows you to your car.

“That stupid pout of yours. It always got me to give in” turning around, you hadn't realized how close behind you Eddie was. His chest against yours, his hand on your waist instinctively when you bump into him. Eddie had no clue what you were talking about, a pout ? He had never pouted a day in his life. Clearing his throat, he relaxed his face as best as he could.

“Can we talk, please ?” you shake your head, moving his hand from your hip. “Eddie, what more is there to say ?”

“I love you.”

The 3 words you had been dying to hear since freshman year of high school. The 3 words that would have been the glue to hold your relationship together all those years ago.

“Eddie, what-” you breathe. You were at a loss for words. Why now? Why not all those years ago?

“I know” he takes a step back.

“Why now? Is it because you already got married ? Because you have Chris ? Because you don’t need me to give you those things, you just- why ?”

“Y/n, it was never about those things with you.” he reaches for your hand, you pull away.

“But it was. It always was about the future we would have built together. You wanted to get married, you wanted to have children and I didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I still don't know if I am. So please, if you’re just going to leave again, go now before I fall in love with you again.” admitting your feelings to him in the middle of the street.

“I got married, I have a kid - and you’re right. I don't feel the need to do those again because I already have. It doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. It doesn't mean a day hasn't passed by that I didn’t think about you or that I didn’t want to call you.” he sighs, his heart on his sleeve. Eddie wasn’t only one to talk about his feelings, ever. It meant a lot to both of you that you had your feelings out in the open.

Eddie’s hands grabbed your waist, your body pressed against his. “Eddie, please don’t. I can’t do this. We’ve both moved on-” his hand cradled your face, his lips on yours ended your sentence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, you could only focus on how Eddie’s lips felt against yours. You had been dreaming for another moment like this since he left you that day in your bedroom, it felt as if time stopped and it was only the two of you while the world melted away.

Eddie’s eyes had ever so slightly opened, taking the beautiful women in front of him. Taking in the moment just to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he had dreamt of and for the first time in all those years, he didn’t feel sad when he thought of you, he saw the one he had been waiting for.

“Ed-” “Y/n, I love you.”

“Eddie I-”

“No, it’s you. It's always been you.”

“Oh my god, Edmundo! Shut up, I'm trying to tell you something” you groan, Eddie bites back a smile.

“What is it?”

“I love you too.”

----

Yeah I got lazy, but happy ending :) Just assume they worked things out and are happy now :)

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @mikaelson-emma @beth-winchester21 @averyhotchner @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling

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milenadaniels · 4 years ago

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Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

#buddie #buddie fic #helena diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #my fics #my posts #y'all I struggled so hard to get this up before the premiere #please understand I woke up at 7am on a Sunday to get it done #my soul is weary #i hope you like them #omg I'm so sorry I forgot the readmore originally #it's up now

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midnightstar-90 · 4 years ago

Text

Hidden~ Eddie Diaz x Nash! Reader

A/N: I wanted to add some action, so I moved up when Shannon decided to divorce Eddie. Eddie is too good to make him into a cheater. I'm not really good at describing intimate-type stuff either.

Lose Some, Win Some

Y/N's POV

I am finally home. I'm home with my son, and the school gave me a couple of days to rest. I sat on my couch, watching the news. "Today, police suspect LAFD's 118 for robbing $300,000 worth of cash from a local bank. Police say that the LAFD was there to help the bank manager and a delivery man with a seizure or a possible nerve agent. Police also say that they found the cash inside one of their firetrucks. More information coming up, soon."

After hearing that, I remember the number on one of the firetrucks at the crash. The 118 saved me, and if they saved me, that means that Eddie and my dad are being questioned for a robbery. I haven't known Eddie long, but I know that Eddie, nor my father, would rob a bank.

Zachary walks into the room. "Mommy, I'm ready for bed," my little man says. I turn to him and say, "Ok, I'll be in there in a bit." He runs back to his room.

I hear a knock at the door. It is almost 9:30 pm. Who could be at my door? I go to the door and look through the peephole. Eddie and Christopher stand at the door with a to-go bag.

I open the door, and I say, "Eddie? Chris? what are you doing here?" "I bet you have heard about what is going on. The police have ransacked our house, and I was wondering if you could watch Chris until this blows over?" Eddie asked me desperately.

I smile at the two boys. "Sure. Chris, Zach is in his room getting ready for bed. You can go hang out with him until I get you a bed ready. His room is down the hall, the First door on the left," I tell the little boy, and then turn to Eddie.

He hands me Chris' night bag, and I joke and say, "There better not be any evidence in here." He chuckles, saying, "Nope, no evidence, just clothes, and a toothbrush."

I invite him into my apartment. He walks in and says, "Nice apartment. Is that a skylight?" He points up, at the skylight, in my living room.

(Y/N's Living room /w a skylight)

"Yeah, when Levi died, I would tell Zach that his father was watching him from the stars. So, I decided that anytime we missed Levi, we would watch the stars," I said, trying not to tear up.

Eddie reaches in his pocket and pulls out a picture. "I'm guessing this is Levi?" Eddie asks, handing me the picture. I look at the picture and lose my cool. Eddie sits me on the couch and just hugs me.

This is the closest I've ever been to a man since Levi. It felt good. I felt protected. I don't need protection because I was in the navy, but this man made me feel loved.

We sat on the couch, with me crying into his shirt. "Mommy, aren't you gonna put me to bed?" "Yeah." I get up, heading into my child's room.

Eddie follows me into the room, and what he sees shocks him.

(Zachary's bed)

Christopher is sitting on the bottom bunk of a firehouse bed. The whole room was dedicated to firefighters. When we got in that crash, and he met his grandfather, Zach decided that when he gets older, he would become a firefighter.

Christopher looks at his dad and says, "Dad, Zach said he wants to be like you and uncle Buck when he gets older."

Eddie continues to look around. He walks towards the cubby. Inside the cubby is some of Zach's favorite toys, some pictures of Levi and I, and some pictures of Zach and I. What really caught Eddie's eye, was the picture of Zach on my shoulders, at the El Paso Zoo.

I am tucking the boys in, when I hear, "You were in El Paso?" I look back and say, "Yeah, that was Zach's 2nd birthday. Levi was born in Austin, but he grew up in El Paso." Eddie just nods and goes back to looking around.

As I'm tucking Christopher in he says, "Dad and I are from El Paso. It would have been cool if we met before LA." I smile at the boy, before walking out and turning off the lights.

"We have a lot in common, you know?" Eddie tells me. I look at him and he looks back. "Oh, really?" I ask. Eddie and I move closer to each other. I continue to look at the man and I ask, "Like what?" "Well, for starters, we were both fought for our country." Imagining this man in a military uniform made the moment even hotter. I moved closer. "Ok, and?" "And, we both had a son at a young age."

At this point, he was towering over me. I quickly pulled the man into a kiss. He kisses back. I move my hands from my side to his chest, and he grabs my hips. He deepens the kiss as I move my hands from his chest to his neck. I feel strong hands go under my shirt.

We keep making out for a couple of minutes until I pull back. "I'm so sorry. I forgot you married," I say frantically. "She told me she wasn't ready. She filed for divorce. I also didn't feel like our relationship was working. She left us when Chris was little. I kinda like this hot teacher, who was in the Navy and has a son. Also, she knows about being a firefighter." Eddie tells me, holding my hands.

I kiss Eddie again. Eddie and I head to my room, without breaking the kiss. That night was the best night in forever. Everyone got a sleepover.

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

The robbery thing has been put behind us, but a new problem has arrived. My father didn't tell the LAFD everything about why he transferred, therefore leaving him suspended. He hasn't told me either, but I think it is best to let him come to me about it.

I started work again today, except I feel like I'm looking after 3 kids. My dad insisted that we hang out, you know since he wasn't there for most of my life.

I wake up at 5 am to a large banging noise. I look to see who it is, and surprise surprise, it is my father with tons of groceries. "Dad, what are you doing here. Zach is still asleep, and I don't have to be up till 7 am." I tell my dad, letting him in.

He heads to my kitchen and sits down the food. "I was thinking that I could make you and Zach breakfast, and then I could take you to work."

I gave my father a loving look. I feel bad that his past came back to haunt him, but maybe something good will come out of it. Besides, I missed the father/daughter bonding we had. Eddie told me his food is at grade A chef level, so why not let him cook for me.

"Well I love what you're doing, but I'm missing sleep. If it's fine with you, could I go back to sleep?" I ask, and receive a nod back. I walk to my room, but I turn back to check upon him. I know he's sad, but at this moment he looks happy.

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

I woke up at 7 am to a heavenly smell. I walk into the kitchen, after remembering my dad was making breakfast. As leave the hallway to see my son and father talking about firefighting. I smile, and my dad turns to face me.

"Ah, you're awake! I woke up Zach and got him dressed for you." my dad says taking a bite of the french toast. I go into the kitchen and make myself some food. I see french toast, fresh fruit, bacon, eggs, and freshly squeezed orange juice. I look amazed as I take some of everything.

My dad works up the courage to ask me a question, "I was wondering if you wanted to stop by the firehouse, like old times. I have some people I would like you to meet." With my mouth full, I say, "Yeah, I missed those days" "Oh man, mommy is breaking a rule. She is talking with her mouth full," Zach says to the man next to him.

Dad laughs. "Well I ate, but I have to get dressed." I head to my room to get dressed.

(Y/N's outfit to work)

I walk back into the living room and we get ready to head out. We make it to the school, and I say goodbye to my father. I take Zach to class. I get to the office and I see Eddie and Chris. "Hey, I was just hanging with your fire captain." "Well, can you tell him we want him back because his replacement is terrible?" I laugh.

"So, are you coming to the firehouse?" Eddie asked me like he knew my dad would ask me. I give the firefighter a suspicious look and then say, "Yeah, my dad asked me this morning. Would you like me to bring Chris?" He gives me a "yeah, sure", and then we say goodbye.

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

Christopher and I had so much fun. We were in math, and I helped teach him fractions with mini Kit-Kats. Then, in English, we acted out storytime with his class. The day ended in science, where we build and erupted our own volcanos.

It is the end of the day, some and of the boys waited outside for my father. When he arrived, we got in and started heading towards the fire station, which was only a 5-minute drive.

We walk into the 118's fire station, and Zach went off. A scream could be heard throughout the whole building. All the firefighters and paramedics stopped to see what was going on. My dad walked up to me and said, "Just like his mother."

Eddie and another man walked down the stairs to see what was happening. I smile at the majestic man walking towards me. We go into a hug before I hear a cough.

"Eddie, aren't you gonna introduce me to the pretty lady," the man asked Eddie. I smile at the man, but Eddie and my dad roll their eyes. My dad jumps into the conversation, "Buck, this is my daughter, Y/N, and her son, Zach. Y/N, this is Buck."

Buck and I shake hands. "My name is actually Evan Buckley, but everyone calls me Buck. You are somewhat of what Eddie has told me. Your pretty, but I expected a younger Bobby, with boobs." Eddie smacks Buck's chest.

I'm laughing and I head upstairs with the others. "Mommy! Mommy! Can I go down the fire pole," Zach asks, tugging on my pant leg? I nod my head yes.

Another man and woman walk over and sit with us in the lounge. "Why is there a little boy running around? Did someone drop him off, because I think your only supposed to do that with babies, not children," the man said, sitting right next to me. "That's my son. I'm Y/N." I hold out my hand waiting for the man to shake it. "I'm Howie, but everyone calls me Chimney. This is Hen," The man says, and the woman waves.

We continue to talk until the emergency bell rings. Everyone heads downstairs, but I pull Eddie back. I give him a long kiss, with my arms around his neck and his around my waist.

I pull back and say, "I had fun the other night. Maybe, I could see if my dad could watch the boys, and you and I could maybe have dinner at my house." Eddie groans and says, "Oh, how I would love that. We could also watch a movie."

This man will be the death of me. "Yeah, but you need to go." Eddie runs off to an emergency, I head to the store with my dad, Christopher, and Zachary.

"You know, you don't have to hide Eddie from me," He tells me. I look at him shocked. "I see the way you guys look at each other, and I saw you guys kiss today," he says calmly.

"Well, since you know could you help me make a meal for him and I tonight, and can you watch the boys?" I practically beg. He nods, and then he moves towards the isles, picking out ingredients.

"I don't want to intrude, so I will give you a recipe card. But yes, I will take the boys, just use protection. I don't want to see another grandchild for a while," he says, earning a smack on the chest from me. "There are children around," I whisper.

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

My dad gave me a recipe for Ravioli, served with garlic bread and bacon-wrapped asparagus. I am almost finished cooking when I hear a knock.

(Y/N's Date Outfit)

I open the door to see a devastated Eddie. I go in to hug him, and Eddie says, "She's dead. Shannon died in the emergency room. That call we left for, that was for her. What am I gonna tell Christopher."

I welcome the man in, and I sit him on the couch. "Do you want to eat?" I ask, hoping that I could get him to relax and eat. "No" is all I hear, before he shoves his face into my shoulder, and lets it all out. I rub his back and say, "Everything will be fine."

We sit there, on the couch, just cuddling. I smell something burning. My eyes widen and I yell, "My bread!"

Eddie's mind comes back to earth and he heads towards the kitchen. Not only is the bread burnt, but there was also a slight fire. Eddie quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the fire.

I was so scared. Eddie saved me from a fire. At the moment, I forgot all about the food, Eddie's emotions, and everything else. I kissed Eddie out of thankfulness. We kissed for about a minute before he pulled away.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that, with everything going on. I was scared. I could've just stood there and let the fire grow, but no, you saved me. You are m-" Eddie cut me off with a kiss.

Eddie picked me up and took me to my room. He laid me on my bed, and next thing you know, our clothes are off.

Taglist: @notanordinaryprincess95 @jjpogueprincess @wiypt-writes

#eddie diaz #christopher diaz #bobby nash #athena grant #maddie buckley #howie han #henrietta wilson #evan buckley #eddie diaz x reader #x daughter!reader #x reader #fanfic #wattpad #911onfox #bobby nash x reader #chimney han #buck buckley #series

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aj-the-cat · 4 years ago

Text

Lawless

(Fuck it, a week early then when i had originally scheduled it to come out)

~ Chapter 1 ~ Masterlist

Word count: 2096

Scorpion’s Roost

Solidarity, Texas

"My god Shawn, do you ever sit still?"

Shawn Michaels squirmed on his horses saddle, itching to get up and move around but the man on the other horse was not having it. "It's uncomfortable, Hunter! You know I can't do long rides. And besides, the dude in El Paso was so rough in me, it felt like he was going to-"

Hunter made a retching sound. "I don't want to hear about your sex life!" Shawn let out an offended gasp.

"But I'm your best friend!"

"That doesn't matter!"

Shawn remained silent as the horses continued on their path. They trotted through Ginger's Plain, observing a fence around a certain area and the very little vegetation. Shawn broke the silence of the place. "Why'd they call this place Ginger's Plain? I see no red anything, and I certainly see no ginger's runnin' around." Hunter shook his head. "I don't have any clue. C'mon, lets hurry up. We can get to the next town a little past noon if we keep going."

The sun beamed brightly overhead as the two bandits finally made their way to the town sign. "Thank god! My ass is killing me!" Shawn hopped off his horse, staggering a little but still remained on his feet. Hunter shook his head and got off his horse as well, claiming his trusty sledgehammer off his horses rump and sheathing it on his back.

The two bandits walked their horses into town, earning stares from some townsfolk. Shawn looked around, examining every building until one caught his eye. "Sweet! This town has a horse stable, we can leave our horses there while we drink in the saloon." Hunter quickly shot that idea down. "And waste our money? We can just leave our horses outside the saloon for free, and if we need an escape, they're right there." Shawn groaned, but complied with Hunters words.

They walked to the saloon and tied their horses on the poles outside.

The saloon wasn't too flashy, but it did stand out. Everything was quiet inside. "Shouldn't there be a piano man or somethin' in there? Seems dead." Shawn whispered. Hunter slapped him on the back of the head. "Not all saloon's are the same, idiot. If it's quiet, it should stay quiet." Hunter put a finger in Shawn's face. "That means no flirting with the patrons." The shirtless bandit rolled his eyes.

They walked inside and noticed the place empty, except a single table with people playing poker, a shadowed man drinking in the corner and the bartender cleaning a glass. When she heard the bootsteps, she looked up from the glass at the two bandits in the doorway. "Y'all just gonna stand there or am I gonna pour you a glass?" She called out.

Shawn, ever the giddy drinker, quickly walked over to a seat at the bar. "A beer my fine lady." He tried to put on his best charm, winking at the bartender, but she wasn't fazed. She poured his beer and set it down in front of him, ignoring the immediate gulps from him. "What what about you, Nosey? What'll you have?" She called out to Hunter.

Hunter went to grab his nose but stopped midway. "Uh, I don't drink. I think a water is just fine for me, thank you." He sat down beside Shawn who had already finished his glass. The bartender set down the glass of water in front of Hunter and asked, "Never seen ya around here, Nosey. What your name?" Hunter politely set down his glass and replied, "Hunter Hearst Helmsley. But just Triple H or Hunter if fine. Thats Shawn Michaels-" Shawn let out a very unpleasent burp and waved -"My best friend. What about you?"

The bartender smiled. "Call me Chyna. You two seem very interesting, where do y'all come from?" Hunter choked on his water and Shawn snorted. Chyna's eyes twinkled in amusement as the shirtless one of the two beat the other on the back, and the other sputtered and coughed.

Laughing, Shawn replied, "He HATES getting asked that question. Never been good at telling his background so I will tell." Hunter flipped his head around to face Shawn. "SHAWN! Don't you *cough* d-dare!" Placing his finger over Hunter's lips, Shawn cleared his throat and lifted his other finger up.

"You see, this man was born with a silver spoon so far down his throat that it was impossible for him to be seen outside his mansion up in Conneticut. All his life he was a spoiled little rat-" Hunter glared at Shawn, still having his finger on his lips- "Hell, by the time he was 12 he already owned a couple acres of land and a couple slaves. He was so miserable. I found him by hopping a train that led to where he lived and I broke him out of that hell hole. We've been best friends ever since."

Shawn removed his finger from Hunters lips and smiled innocently. Chyna giggled as Hunter fumed, wringing his hands in attempt to not strangle his friend. "Thank you for that, Shawn." He growled. Shawn tipped his cowboy hat. "No problem, ol' friend of mine."

Hunter facepalmed and sipped a bit of his water. "I come from Dallas, bein' a bandit is all I ever known. My parents got shot while I was 13 and I learned to shoot a gun at 14. Been hittin' the roads ever since." Shawn smiled and looked at Chyna expectantly. Her eyes twinkled in amusement at the two idiots in front of her.

Chyna grabbed the men's ears and pulled them to her face, Hunter almost knocking down his water. "I'll tell ya what. You two seem interesting, and nothing ever interesting ever goes on here. I wanna join you two on your adventures." She let their ears go and their eyes widened.

Shawn grabbed Hunter's shoulders and turned both of them around on the bar seats. In a low whisper, he talked to Hunter. "Ya hear this?! We can start a group like we always wanted! And nobody would expect a woman!" Shawn looked back at Chyna and she winked.

"She is pretty, and she seems smart too. We could definately use her on heists." Hunter replied. Shawn smiled wide. "This is our big break! We'll be known all across the nation!" Hunter shook his head. "Don't let your ego get in the way." Shawn let go of Hunters shoulders and placed a hand over his heart. "I do not have an ego!" Hunter snorted. "You so do."

Shawn opened his mouth to retort back but was interrupted by the sound of spurs and bootsteps, as well as a heavy accented voice yelling. "I'll wring that stack o' dimes you call a neck someday, Vince! Don't you forget that!"

Both Shawn and Hunter froze at the voice. "Austin." They both said. Shawn climbed over the bar counter and grabbed Chyna's leg. "Hide me! Please!" Using her other leg, she kicked open a hidden cabinet and Shawn climbed inside. Hunter was about to climb over the bar but Chyna stopped him. "Only room for one. You'll have to face this rattlesnake alone." She pointed to the door just as Austin was walking in.

Austin whipped his head around from looking at something and his blue eyes narrowed as he saw Hunter. Hunter gulped as he saw Austin's hand clench into a fist. "Helmsley." He growled. Chyna put on a bored expression and walked to the other side of the bar, where the shadowed man sat. "I don't see yer partner. Come to MY town alone?" Hunter nodded slowly.

Austin chuckled and quickly whipped out his gun. "Well too bad for you. By order of the town of Scorpion's Roost, you are under arrest for your life of crime as a bandit. Any last words before I shoot you?" Hunter slowy shrugged. "Uh, beer sucks?"

"Wrong answer!"

Hunter ducked just in time for a bullet to shoot right where his head was, making a bottle of tequila explode. He crawled on the floor and between Austin's legs to the door. He stood up and yelled, "I got places to be! See ya!" And hightailed it out of the saloon.

Cursing, Austin ran after the blonde and yelled after him.

Hearing that the coast was clear, Shawn emerged from his hiding place and slowly looked over the bar. No bald-headed bounty hunters. All was clear. Sughing in relief, he climbed back over the bar and settled in a chair. "Thank god that's over. He scares the bejeezus outta me." He reached for his beer glass and found it empty.

Shawn looked to the other side of the bar for Chyna and saw her pouring shots for the shadowed man he saw earlier. He smirked and got out of his chair, sauntering over to where the man sat.

Leaning against the bar, Shawn made sure to puff out his shirtless chest and put on his best charm. "Hiya, Tex. Nice set of legs ya got there. What time do they open?" The shadowed man downed his last shot and set the glass upside down on the bar. Shawn got a glimpse of piercing green eyes and midnight black hair as the man got up from his seat. His heart raced as the man walked away, but he stopped.

"Put it on my tab, Chyna." He growled out and walked away, heavy boots clunking on the floorboards. Shawns heart was racing a million miles a minute and butterflies found their way inside his stomach. "Who was that?" He whispered out, still staring at the door.

Chyna picked up the glasses and put them under the bar. "Nobody knows. Everybody just calls him The Undertaker. He works at the local funeral parlor and comes in here once a week." Shawn's imagination fired up as he remembered the large frame of the man, now known to him as The Undertaker, and imagined his large hands gliding across-

"SHAWN!" Hunter burst through the doors of the saloon, making Shawn snap out of his day dream. Hunter's sledgehammer was out of its sheath and in its owners hands, making Shawn wonder what had happened to make his friend pull out his hammer. "We gotta hide for a while. I managed to lose Austin, but not for long."

Hunter ran over and grabbed Shawn's arm and pulled him towards the door. Chyna waved at the two bandits and set up a tab for Shawn and Hunter, and put The Undertaker's shots on his existing tab.

Outside, the sun was falling towards the horizon. Hunter and Shawn ran to the hotel across the street and burst in their doors. "We need a room. Now." Hunter said, very breathless. He put his sledgehammer on the counter to make a warning to the lady. Shawn had his hand on his gun and was surveying the surrounding area. The woman at the counter shakily pointed upstairs. Top floor, last one on the left." Hunter nodded and both bandits went upstairs.

Going to the room and locking themselves in, they sat on the floor and Hunter caught his breath. "We made it, oh thank god." Hunter thought about his safety in the room. Meanwhile, Shawn's mind wandered to The Undertaker and his green eyes. He usually could forget people and what they looked like, but this man had a hold on his mind.

Shawn usually had his mind hardwired on sex, alcohol and his mischevious antics. But this time things were different. His cheeks burned as he thought about the man more and more. 'God what is happening?' He thought to himself.

Hunter noticed his friend looking a little sick. "Shawn, buddy, you ok?" He snapped his fingers in front of Shawn's face, making the other man jump. "Hunter what the hell?!" Hunter noticed Shawn's pink cheeks but ignored it. "Shawn, you ok? You spaced out." Shawn waved off Hunter. "Im fine."

Hunter nodded and layed on the ground, not even bothering to tour the room. Shawn followed suit and looked up at the ceiling and was lost in thought.

Eventually, the sun went down fully and the half moon glowed brightly in the sky. Hunter had fallen asleep, but Shawn was still wide awake and deep in his thoughts.

Who was this man Shawn's mind had grabbed on to? Shawn had to find out. Closing his eyes, he decided that in the morning he would find out. Sleep soon took over him and cast him away to a dream-filled night.

#lawless!au #old west #western #wwf #wwe #fanfiction

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msindrad · 5 years ago

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Temporal orientation is a thing

This might be one of the most unusual and hopefully also most interesting pieces of fandom meta you‘ll ever read!

I wanna talk about the perception of time by Manco, Mortimer, and Indio in For a Few Dollars More because I earnestly believe that understanding somebody‘s time perception is fundamental for understanding their modus operandi.

Here are two short paragraphs of theory, which you can freely skip if you want to.

Let’s imagine that there are four dimension of time perception: namely, past, present, future, and eternity (categories above time that can’t be influenced by it). And there are four possible positions of prioritization for each of them in a person’s psyche.

The first position is their strongest element, it’s the time that they live in and for. Their goal, their main element, the very dimension that they unconsciously filter everything else through. The second position is their consciously used instrument – they employ it to be successful in the time dimension from the first category. They’re fully in control of acting in and through it. The third position is the position of lacking control, of susceptibility, uncertainty, concerns, and fears. It’s there, but you can’t do anything about it, but you’re still desperately trying to – either to suppress it or do something impulsively. Whenever something or somebody influences you there, you’re hurt, lost, or troubled. The fourth position is the position of negligence. Whatever is there just doesn’t interest them. It’s unreal, uninteresting, and irrelevant.

With that being said: Manco’s profile is: 1Present 2Eternity 3Future 4Past

Mortimer’s profile is: 1Past 2Future 3Present 4Eternity

And finally Indio’s: 1Eternity 2Future 3Past 4Present

Now, what do I meant by it all, and why and how it can be relevant for understanding these people.

Let’s start with Manco and with the most obvious thing about his profile. He is absolutely uninterested in the Past. He never explains anything through his previous experiences, except for when he is unsatisfied with him and Mortimer not having read Indio’s intentions correctly when he robbed El Paso’s bank. And even then it’s irrelevant, the past is dead, he doesn’t care why they did what they did anymore. The same with Ferdinand – he could’ve punished him for how he didn’t inform him about the two other strangers in town, but the moment is gone, the Past doesn’t matter, and the only thing he needs is being informed right now. When Manco is reminded of his past actions he shrugs it off because why care about what happened? And he himself isn’t exactly somebody who can be defined through his past – he is the man with no name, after all.

He draws all his conclusions from the Present. He is a tactician who gets all his clues from the circumstances he or others find themselves in. Be it his assessment of how crazy his informant is, the fact that his wanted hotel room is temporarily occupied not by him but by Mr. Ramirez, or his observation of the actions of a smart rival provoking his targets. Somebody whose perception isn’t totally dominated by the Present wouldn’t start a card game with their targets just to find out whether they’re lucky today!

And even when Manco rushes to Indio without thinking after he and Mortimer fail to predict his plans correctly, he’s only thinking about the Present: how they’re wrong, how their plan isn’t working, how he must fix everything! He isn’t thinking strategically, only tactically.

Then, Manco’s Future. He has some vague intentions, plans, he feels that this dimension of time is there, but he also feels that it’s uncovered, and so he tries to distract himself from it while simultaneously trying to be kinda ready for it in advance. He wants the reward money but what for? To buy a farm? Does he, though, is he really the type who retires young? He realizes that he needs and wants the money in the moment, but he hasn’t everything planned out. When he is in El Paso he is simply gathering information, he has no clear-cut plan as to how apprehend Indio and his gang. And he can’t really produce any good idea on the spot when Mortimer tells him he should join the band (he simply makes a joke to Mortimer about bringing Indio a bunch of roses, not seriously considering any realistic variants), and his mental habits of a tactician provide a strong contrast to the fact that Mortimer, on the other hand, has a highly positioned, in fact, instrumental Future, but I’ll go back to it in a minute.

Manco is so bad at living in the Future that he, again, makes a really bad decision of stating his intention to collect the reward for Indio and his gang in the future – while talking to Indio himself, and Manco’s only luck then is that Indio doesn’t want to out him to everybody right then and there. What he does operate through in this scene is his Eternity. He states who he is, and who the gang are, disregarding any time constraints. The same thing he does when talking to the bought sheriff at the beginning of the film. He he makes a point that the sheriff is bad while describing his concept of sheriff to him before taking away his star.

The same with Mortimer: when he approaches the Prophet, he wants to have an idea of who Mortimer is, not what he has done or the like. When he listens to Mortimer and assesses him from all sides, he asks him, semi-jokingly but genuinely intrigued: “Tell me, colonel, were you ever young?” Which isn’t really a statement about any concrete Past, obviously he knows that sometime in the Past Mortimer was a young pup. But the question is meant to ask: “Have you always been this focused, this driven, this disciplined?” In other words, is this who you are?

Then, Mortimer.

I love him very deeply, he is one of my all-time favorites, but I can’t deny that he is tactically crippled. He is a brilliant strategist (as his Future is in the second, instrumental position), but, girl, is in he in big trouble whenever he has to face the Present. Both his awkward encounters with Wild, the hunchback, demonstrate it.

Motivated by his loss, he uses all the information he has carefully collected over the years to come up with a plan (the dominant Past), he thinks every major strategic decision through (second Future), but whenever he has to improvise, well. He can only continue the course that somebody else sets for him in the here and now.

When Wild recognizes him in the tavern, Mortimer is lost. Should he try to leave? But he hasn’t finished his soup? Is it already too late? He didn’t think of how they would face each other again when the Future he planned would become the Present for him. And so, he waits for whoever is quicker than him to make the next step for him. It’s literally so when Manco decides to test him outside – he simply returns every impulse.

Mortimer doesn’t know how to treat him then, he is simply planning for the Future (they’ll work together) after having consulted the Past (he actually goes into an archive to try to reconstruct who Manco is). But having gathered all that information he can only follow Manco’s lead when the other provokes him. Because he is tactically short-sighted and basically helpless like a newborn kitten.

A quick contrast – when Manco is caught off guard by Indio and his gang waiting for him to descend that roof, he instantly acts in the Present, assessing the situation: he puts away the bag with all the money. And Mortimer? As soon as he feels somebody’s shoulder below his foot, he is simply panicking.

Even when Indio invites him to try to shoot him after having shot his gun out of his hand, he simply obeys, accepting that there is no choice in the Present, until Manco introduces another choice into the situation and fixes everything so that the fight is fair (second Eternity).

And for Mortimer, Eternity is a blind zone. He is a practical man and seems to have no access to it. Everybody is what they’ve done (Past), and what they could be done with (Future), that’s it. But he has no idea what to do in the goalless Present because he has no guiding Eternity.

Finally, Indio.

He has no relationship with the Present whatsoever. He is so detached from it that he actually catapults himself from it by smoking weed to not be overwhelmed by it. (He also does it to block his weak Past from nagging at him, which only makes sense given his more than unpleasant biography).

And he actively disregards what others might think of him in the Present, e.g. his public inspections of Manco or how he doesn’t bother to explain his thought processes to Nino before sending him to kill off one of others from his gang. It’s Chuchillio who acts in the Present for him instead when he shoots off the tip of Manco’s cigar; and from what we’ve seen of others, e.g. of Wild, they all compensate for Indio’s detachment from the Present, it’s their primary function. And Indio, well, he, like Mortimer, makes plans using his second Future (he always foresees things), but he bases them on his Eternity.

First time he sees Manco, he knows he’s a bounty hunter, and assessing him from this standpoint of Eternity, he integrates him in their robbery. If you listen to his speeches closely, e.g. the speech in the church, he always leads everything to what things are but also what they should be. He rhetorically asks his gang whether they think a carpenter can’t make good money, and also how safes work; he talks about how the people of Agua Caliente are unfriendly to strangers.

I would even argue that he keeps the pocket watch of Mortimer‘s sister not because of any sentimental value attached to it (that’s the perspective of the Past, which is adopted by Mortimer), but because it has significantly influenced his understanding of Eternity, and is now a part of his self-image and a reminder about certain hurtful truths.

That’s my take on it. I would love to hear your thoughts! Also, if somebody is interested in my opinion about the whole thing in the GBU, Justified, or something else, let me know. Cheers!

#the dollars trilogy #for a few dollars more #meta #manco #the man with no name #colonel douglas mortimer #douglas mortimer #el indio #spaghetti western #sergio leone

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jamesonhq · 5 years ago

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( avan jogia ⊹ twenty-six ⊹ cismale ⊹ he/him ) is that JAMESON PRESCOTT i see over there? huh. last time i heard, they live in MAIN STREET and are a BARBER. people are starting to notice that they were actually a BARBER/CONFIDANT to nate beauchamp. i also heard they’re afraid of BEING THE CENTER ON ATTENTION? interesting. anyway, lets hope they can survive what’s to come….. penned by haley, 20, she/her, est.

tw: drugs, murder

jameson was not born in the best of circumstances. he was born to two people who were not prepared to be parents. usually in that case, a family would choose adoption for their child but, jameson learned from a young age that giving up was never an option, especially in the prescott family. even if it was for the better.

jamie was born in el paso, texas. he’s been able to train himself out of the southern drawl but sometimes his accent can slip through.

his father was heavily involved in motorcycle gang antics and selling drugs, something that the boy became aware of at a young age. he grew up very fast and his childhood didn’t have much innocence to it.

his mother was a dancer, use your imagination to guess which kind.

jameson’s parents weren’t abusive, in fact he was the only thing motivating them to make money and not spend it on frivilous things.

he was always a quite kind, very polite but loved to listen to other people’s stories. his favorite thing to do was go with his dad to barbershop and listen to them all shoot the shit and smoke cigars. he could always offer to sweep the shop and all the older barbers joked they’d be paying him one day.

his mother was tragically murdered by a client on the way to her car one night. it wasn’t just any client, it was a biker from a rival gang.

jameson’s father retaliated and murdered the man who killed his wife. he acted on impulse but he couldn’t bare the thought of jameson being left without his two parents. so he packed up his things and left without a trace.

the boy learned from a young age that keeping secrets was important. after the murders, his father and jameson moved to rosefield.

rosefield truly made jameson come to life. being six at the time, he got to attend school and play on the playground, explore the shops with his dad and indulge in everything that the small town had to offer.

lucky for his father, police technology was no what it is today back then. not so luckily, when jameson was sixteen, they finally caught his father for the unsolved murder. his father was sent to jail for thirty-two years without possibility of parole.

being sixteen at the time, this made jamie super independent. he went to high school, got a job assisting at the barbershop and then eventually got his license to become a barber. he was fascinated by the grind and how much money you could make by cutting hair.

something that jameson began to struggle with was his anxiety. with all the events in his life, he felt as though he never had a grasp on life completely. he started going to therapy and got medicated and now he’s all good but when he goes off his meds he gets testy and mean, super not himself.

he knew nate because he cut his hair. nate, like most clients, would unload all his drama onto james for discussion. they were bros but not too close. but nate knew about his anxiety which he usually doesnt talk about.

personality

very very flirty but also a sweetheart. the type that makes you roll ur eyes and smile.

amazing listener and gives amazing advice. never misses an opportunity to shut up. will just nod and make you feel heard.

loves making other people feel good. like watching someone check themselves out in the mirror when they get out of the chair!!!! best!!!!!!

is kind of a loner but has a dog so thats good

will kick some ass tho

super honest

wanted connections

ex girlfriend: pretty self explanatory. they met when he finally got his life together and was working full time and making good money. they were together when his anxiety started to get really bad and has witnessed him medicated and unmedicated on and off again. i just like plotting exes so lets plot ok ok lmk.

clients: ppl he cuts their hair

childhood best friend (I WANT A MALE AND FEMALE): someone he met when he first moved to rosefield and they knew his dad before he went to jail and they know how emotional he gets talking about his parents

enemy: LET’S PLOT IT I WANT HIM TO HATE SOMEONE’S GUTS BECAUSE IT’S SUPER OUT OF CHARACTER

#bio #rosefield:intro #tw: drugs #tw: murder

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richukibaby · 6 years ago

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Have a Little Fun With Him//Richard

Notes: this is my first fic and I am incredibly nervous about sharing it but why not try?

It’s for @cieloxcnco challenge

P.S. sorry @h-bea92 the nerves took over and I couldn’t wait I hope you like

I used the song Drown the Lover’s by Ritual “I should drown all the lovers that couldn’t love you more, won’t surface to exist, love like we never hurt”- it was such a good prompt.

The backstory of this fic is based on my real first love. Terrible, wonderful, violent, passionate, young. The rest is all my imagination.

Warning: smutty and my first piece so let’s hope this goes well :)

Word count: ~1600

*****************************************************************************************************

It was your first night out in a long time. You had broken up with your first love. A long four year relationship that was completely draining you at the end. Josh’s consistent cheating scandals, violent episodes, and continuous verbal abuse had become so repetitive. You loved him immensely, but you also deeply resented him for the pain and embarrassment his alcoholism had put you through. Your family taking him in wasn’t enough, nor was your undying loyalty. At last you had ended it but now you buried yourself in unrelenting schoolwork kept you wrapped up for weeks, unable to leave your house except for class. Tonight, however, your friends managed to convince you to leave the work and your past behind.

All your friends met at your house to drink before the club, mostly so they could convince you to put on the sexiest outfit you owned.

“THIS IS THE Y/N WE NEEDED ALL THIS TIME!” Your friend Summer screamed. You giggled as you pivoted around to see your back in the full body mirror. A bright red dress that stopped right below your ass. It was the riskiest thing you ever wore, completely naked underneath so there were no underwear or bra lines visible.

“GOD DAMN BITCH.” Your friend Liz shouted as she ran behind you smacking your ass.

“It’s so unlike me, there is literally no occasion for me to be wearing this right now.” You rationalized as you ran your hands down your waist.

“Nope. No. Stop.” Summer said, as the rest of your girlfriends nodded their heads. “You’re wearing it because you deserve to dance and have fun after how hard you work and the asshole you’ve moved on from. Stop worrying. Shut your brain off tonight.”

“Okay. Alright fine.” You grabbed your tequila shot and silently encouraged yourself that you can let loose.

*****************************************************************************************************

The second you stepped into the club you knew it would be a good night. With a decent amount of alcohol already coursing through your veins, your inhibitions had begun to slip away.

The DJ boomed over the microphone, “Mi gente, está noche me traje un regalito. Por favor denle una calida bienvenido a mis amigos CNCO!”

Your head snapped up from your drink as you watched five men in shiny gold jackets stand on stage.

“Oh my fucking god.” You screeched.

“Y/N is that…?” Liz said with her jaw agape.

“Yep.” You were a wild fan of CNCO. You were a fan since they were on La Banda but had met the boys at one of the listening parties they had held for the release of CNCO the album, and it had been a downward spiral into obsession since.

Your screams blended with the crowds as you shook your hips to the beat of “Se Vuelve Loca”. It was unbelievable to you how sexy the boys looked. Richard’s shirt already stuck to his chest, Zabdiel’s shiny black joggers clinging to his thick thighs like a second skin, Joel’s long fingers brushing the stray curls getting stuck to his forehead, Chris’s smirk as he thrusted into the air with the lyrics he sang, and Erick’s eyes were exceptionally blue as he smiled into the crowd.

“Saca la fiera que llevas dentroooo…” Joel sang as his curls bounced above the soaking wet bandana that graced his hairline.

You led Summer, Liz and your other friends away from the table you had and closer to the stage. You promised yourself you’d remain calm and collected in the one in a million chance one of them approached you.

However, the boys descended the stage just as you heard the music to “Estoy Enamorado de Ti” and you began to freak out. You were sweating much more than you would and you lifted your pointer finger and gestured for Richard to come towards you when he glanced in your direction.

“Bitch, I think he’s coming towards you. I told you this dress is killer.” Summer diabolically laughed in your ear.

The Dominican moved through the dance floor, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Hasta el amanecer…” His pink lips singing into the mic as he grabbed your hand and spun you. Your hips flush against his as he sang his next line. “Baby, you and I we’re gonna lose our heads.”

You rolled your hips backwards onto his and he grabbed your waist to control your movements. One hand met his on top of your hip and the other came up to the back of his neck as you swayed to the beat.

Your eyes scanned the room and saw the other boys dancing in some capacity with girls in the club. Richard continued the song from behind you and your core grew wetter every second you felt him grow harder behind you. The lyrics of the band you loved so much were drowned out by your breaths growing louder. And then, it was over. Richard grabbed the same hand that was on top of his and spun you further away from him.

He turned back at you and flashed his big smile that you always crushed on and gave a signature wink before he ran up on stage to finish the set.

*****************************************************************************************************

“WHAT THE FUCK.” Your lips mouthed at Summer and Liz as they stood with their mouths wide open.

CNCO had left the stage but your hips still burned from where Richard had touched you.

“Y/N I… I’m just… that was… oh my god.” Summer managed to stutter. You used your hand to cover the smile that was beginning to grow on your face. Heat rising to your cheeks as your thoughts get dirtier and dirtier.

The lights of the club managed to draw you back to reality as you picked your drink back up and began to dance with your friends again.

You weren’t dancing for long when you saw your friends eyes grow wide and a finger was tapping on your shoulder.

Over your shoulder was the same dazzling smile that left you breathless earlier in the night. “Hola mamita. I’m Richard. Sorry about before. It’s all about the show ya’know and you kinda drew me in with the…” He lifted his pointer finger and drew it in a few times.

A giggle escaped your lips before you could remind yourself to be cool. “I’m Y/N but don’t worry about it. It’s totally cool, I think we make pretty good dance partners.”

Liz rolled her eyes from behind Richard. “Sexy.” She mouthed as she grinded the air behind him.

He smirked and held his hand out. “Well we should keep dancing then.” You took his hand and followed him further into the crowd.

The two of you began to dance apart singing back and forth to Promiscuous. His caramel skin gleaming from the sweat of his performance before and it only made you more aroused now.

Suddenly you gasped and froze where you were standing. The ex you had so recently grieved was now standing behind Richard staring at the two of you. Richard froze along with you. He grabbed your cheek as he turned to follow your gaze. “Que paso baby?”

“That’s my ex boyfriend. We broke up a while ago and this is the first time I’m seeing him.” You said not breaking the stare.

Richard turned back towards you, put his hand on the small of your waist and pulled you in. “Are you guys cool or should we have a little fun with him?”

Your eyebrow lifted, considering the consequences of this proposition but then you looked into Richard’s lust-filled cocoa eyes. He licked his lips and his tongue lingered at the corner before he smiled. Your arm came up to the back of his neck and your nails scratched at his scalp leisurely. “Let’s have some fun.”

He pulled you in tight so that you straddled his right thigh as you rocked to the merengue that was playing in the club. His hands dug into your back to hold you as close as he could. He kindly tugged your dress down that was riding up as you grinded on his thigh and you hated yourself for not wearing underwear that could protect poor Richard’s pants from how wet you were. Abruptly, Richard laced his fingers into the hair at the bottom of your head and tugged back hard. You were filled with a moment of shock and pain before he slammed his lips into yours. He nibbled at your bottom lip and once you granted him entrance he moaned into your mouth.

You broke apart in a smile as you heard Christopher’s classic cackle of a laugh behind you. “AYYY!!”

Josh, your ex shouldered Richard as he angrily huffed past the two of you. Richard immediately tensed up but you leaned forward and nibbled on his earlobe. “We can have a little more fun if you want.” You shocked yourself with your alcohol-induced boldness.

“Ven mamita.” He whispered and you crossed your legs to hold the wetness.

*****************************************************************************************************

Once you were in CNCO’s dressing room backstage of the club, Richard pushed your back to the closed door and kissed down your neck. His hands slid down your sides and lifted up the ends of your dress.

“Y/N” He growled as he stepped back to stare at your naked body. “You came to the club with nothing on under this.” He scooped you up under your thighs and carried you to the couch that was covered in the boys dirty clothes.

“I’m gonna make you forget anything that guy ever did to you. Any hurt, any pleasure, any pain.” He pushed the dress up and kissed down your neck.

#cnco #cnco smut #richard camacho #cnco fic

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idairsauthor · 6 years ago

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This Fcking Emergency: Stupid Racist Magic

PLAIDDER: Hello and welcome to this week’s edition of This Fucking Emergency, an intermittent imaginary cable talk show where I sit down with some of the many imaginary characters I have created or befriended over the years and discuss vital issues of the day. Please welcome back to the program everyone’s favorite imaginary diplomat, legislator, and former sheep dealer, Conn mac Emer...

CONN: Why are there so many chairs on set today?

PLAIDDER: Because there were two mass shootings within 24 hours last weekend.

CONN: I don’t see the...

PLAIDDER: OK. I wrote Redemption for a lot of reasons. One of them was that I was trying to understand and maybe imagine a solution for school shootings. This was in 2005, I would just like to remind our viewers. Aught fucking five. Fourteen years ago I finished this novel and I was already, at that point, permanently appalled by this country’s tolerance for mass shootings in schools.

CONN: So what happened to Daphie at Decalon High--

PLAIDDER: Yes. That happens in my country. OFTENER and OFTENER. Now you didn’t have a lot to do with that storyline because you were caught up in the other horror of life in the aughts, viz., the War On Terror. But anyway, my point is: because I wrote that novel, when something like this happens...I mean I don’t even call them. Your fellow-characters just...show up.

DAPHIE: Hello?

PLAIDDER: Hi, Daphie. If you want to know what you’re doing here--

DAPHIE: Because of the baby and the mother and the father.

PLAIDDER: Exactly. Only in this case, only the baby survived. Because in my world, evidently, we only have one kind of magic.

CONN: I thought your world didn’t have shri.

PLAIDDER: We definitely don’t.

CONN: Then what kind of magic do you--

PLAIDDER: Chandra knows.

CHANDRA: Hi.

CONN: Where the hell did you come from all of a--

PLAIDDER: Chandra, can you just say it? That line of yours that’s been in my head since El Paso.

CHANDRA: Found a church on stupid racist doctrine, you get stupid racist magic.

PLAIDDER: Yes. And you know how you get even MORE stupid racist magic? You choose, as the person to lead your nation, a stupid racist mage.

CONN: Nothing about your president seems magical to me.

PLAIDDER: Yes, well, that’s the Ideiren point of view. But what Chandra’s talking about is National. It is in fact the only kind of magic in your universe that originated in the Nation.

CHANDRA: I always thought it was all bullshit. I mean...my family definitely tried to annihilate me with it, and here I still am--

PLAIDDER: All right, let me explain what I mean by ‘magic’ in this context.

AINE: This should be interesting.

CONN: Shriia! I didn’t know you’d be here.

AINE: Neither did I.

PLAIDDER: Like I said. I don’t even call them; they just come. Anyway. I had an old friend over for dinner the other day who was talking about what we call “the magic of the theater.” Now, when I say that I’m usually being ironic, but he seems to really believe in it and to be honest I’m not totally sure that I don’t. A lot of contemporary performance theory is based at some distance on the idea of theater as a ritual which at some point in the distant past was efficacious.

SONNIA: Effiwhatnow?

PLAIDDER: And welcome to you too, Sonnia.

AINE: “Efficacious” means that it actually makes something happen. So, take haons linn.

SONNIA: You mean that weird thing you do at five in the morning.

AINE: To you it’s a weird thing I do at five in the morning. To me and to the rest of my people it’s how we help create the world. To you it’s a ritual the same way, I don’t know, brushing your teeth is a ritual. To us, it’s efficacious. It keeps the world together. I can skip it under extraordinary circumstances once in a while and things will be all right, but that’s only because other shriias will be doing haons linn somewhere else. If we all stopped doing haons linn...the sun wouldn’t rise. The whole world would just stay dark, forever.

SONNIA: Really?

AINE: Yes, really.

SONNIA: So what explains the fact the sun rises in the Nation?

AINE: It rises in the Nation because we’re all on the same island.

SONNIA: What about Dubhinis? There’s no shriias in Dubhinis.

TYRNA: Don’t you wish.

PLAIDDER: Hello, Tyrna, thanks for joining us.

AINE: Don’t be hard on her, Tyrna, she was raised to believe--

TYRNA: I know what she was raised to believe in.

SONNIA: So you do haons linn.

TYRNA: I don’t. That’s an Ideiren thing. But we do other things to keep our world together. Despite what you hear from Chandra’s people--

CHANDRA: They’re not my people any more--

TYRNA: --the Nation is not the center of the universe. The Nation only continues to exist because the rest of us are building the world around it.

SONNIA: That’s nuts. The world is real, whether--

TYRNA: Nobody’s saying it’s not.

PLAIDDER: Well, I kind of am. I mean, your world isn’t actually real. It’s created. It’s created by me, you know, with the support of the people who read it. And that means Tyrna’s absolutely right. I wouldn’t have created this world just to write about the Nation. On the other hand, I couldn’t, or at least I didn’t, create Ideire or Dubhinis or Plenana or any of the other islands without also creating the Nation.

TYRNA: Why the hell not?

AINE: Tyrna!

PLAIDDER: No, she’s right to ask. Of all the places in your universe, the Nation is the one most like the place where I come from.

CHANDRA: That’s...really depressing.

PLAIDDER: You’re telling me.

CONN: Weren’t we talking about the magic of the theater?

PLAIDDER: Yes. Yes we were. Anyway, so my friend’s idea of the magic of the theater is this: You have a vision of something you want to make happen. The thing does not come into existence at that moment. You have to work to make it happen. You find other people and you share the vision with them, and you find a place, and you find a lot of other stuff, and eventually the thing that you imagined becomes real--so real that other people can see it. This is an ordinary process that goes on all over the place all the time. But when you think about it, this is actually kind of what magic is. You imagine something, and that makes it real.

SONNIA: I’m not getting any of this.

AINE: I think we’d better move on. I spent months trying to move Sonnia past this stage and it never happened.

PLAIDDER: And then what I said was--and this was before all of THIS happened--there’s a passage in one of the Little House books where Pa explains the railroad the same way. The engineers imagine a railroad, and then everybody goes out west and works 24/7 and digs dirt and pounds steel and eats pancackes and gets paid because of something that’s just an idea, that doesn’t exist at all. It’s a really interesting passage--it’s in By the Shores of Silver Lake, I think.

CHANDRA: Of course the real magic there is--

PLAIDDER: Imperialism and capitalism, yes. But that’s my point. This having a vision and making it real thing is a lot of fun and I think, mostly, good for people in the theater, as long as the Vision-Haver is, you know, a clueful and compassionate person who cares about the human consequences of their magic. But there’s nothing inherently good about this process of making a vision real. It can be bad. It can be really bad. It can be REALLY. FUCKING. BAD.

DAPHIE: Like...

PLAIDDER: Yes. Exactly.

SONNIA: I don’t know what she’s--

PLAIDDER: Daphie’s whole novel is about me trying to understand one particular kind of very bad magic. I was trying to understand how a thing like the shooting at Decalon High is imagined and then how it is made real. Over and over, oftener and oftener. It seemed to me as if every evil vision, every malicious imagination in my world had collaborated to create this thing. I wrote...I don’t even know how many hundred thousand words went into that novel. Let’s just say the problem and the solution in Redemption are about three times as complicated as they are in any of the earlier novels. And when I look back on it, I can only see one thing about that explanation that I think is really true, that I think is still true now.

CONN: Which is what?

CHANDRA: Stupid racist magic.

PLAIDDER: Bingo.

CHANDRA: “Bingo”?!

PLAIDDER: It’s...oh, never mind. Look, about fifty years ago Jerome Bixby was trying to understand the magic of war and he wrote a script for a show called Star Trek called “Day of the Dove.” And in that episode, there are these energy beings that feed off aggression. So they try to bait all the people on this one ship into fighting each other, so they can feed. The individual Starfleet or Klingon people think they want war but there’s actually some force out there making them want it, making them do things, imagining a war and then making it happen. And it’s remarkable how durable this idea is. I mean you could link it back to Tolstoy and War And Peace, where he tries to understand a thing like the war of 1812 and takes all those thousands of pages to prove that none of the historical explanations for it matter worth a damn. The war happened because Providence wanted to move people from west to east and this was the way Providence found of making that real. Or in season 2 of Stranger Things, they start calling the monster the Mind-Flayer and everything gets tentacly and it is weird, it is REALLY weird for me, how much that damn thing looks like an arani--like the biggest fucking arani ever--

AINE: I hate arani.

PLAIDDER: Yes! I hate them too! They are the nastiest fucking things in the ether apart from the kraikk, and as with the Mind-Flayer and those pumpkin patch death vines and all of these things are metaphors for whatever it is out there that keeps making humans hurt and kill each other when clearly, clearly, that is not what most individual human beings want or what most of them would do if they were free.

TYRNA: Says you.

PLAIDDER: All right. Says me.

TYRNA: You want to know what I think?

PLAIDDER: Sure.

TYRNA: Put whatever metaphors you want on it. Under the costume it’s always greed. Just people grabbing what they can get and then trying to kill anyone who looks like they might take it from them. Throwing the whole world out of balance. I keep trying to right the balance and it’s like water in a sieve. A hundred women like me couldn’t do it. A thousand couldn’t do it.

CHANDRA: All right, greed, definitely, but like...I mean...the cruelty. The cruelty isn’t just about greed. Sometimes the cruelty actually interferes with the greed. People have a choice between them and they choose cruelty.

TYRNA: I never said your magic was efficient. It’s been pretty efficacious, all the same.

CHANDRA: But why the cruelty? I mean that’s the question that’s kept a dozen of my therapists up at night. Cruelty beyond monetary gain, cruelty beyond utility. Cruelty as...as, like, a god unto itself.

TYRNA: Cruelty and greed are both lusts and they’re limbs of the same tree grown from the same rotten root.

PLAIDDER: So anyway...what I said was, if theater is magic, then, fascism is magic too. Someone has a vision. He calls out to other people. Other people share that vision. Then they make it real. And it’s hideous. That’s what--I mean, Rhinoceros.

CONN: I beg your pardon?

PLAIDDER: This old French play where everyone turns into rhinoceroses. No reason, they just do it. Because something’s making it happen. It’s not called magic, it’s called absurdism. But it’s the same thing: why the fuck is this hideous transformation taking place? Why can’t anyone stop it? I mean I think the arani and all those metaphors Tyrna is quite rightly impatient with--it’s our way of representing the just--fucking--irrationality of it all. It starts to seem at some point as if nobody really WANTS this, it’s just happening because the thing that’s making it happen is too powerful to stop. Like, an arani doesn’t have an agenda. It just grows. That’s all it does. It has no brain and no intelligence, it’s just an empty bag of guts with filaments hooked into a hundred different heads. It can be manipulated by an intelligent and powerful human...to a point. And after that it just...feeds. This image that we have of this monstrous indefinable thing that makes us do horrible things to each other--I mean--we made it real. We MADE IT REAL. We keep making it. First it’s newspapers then it’s phones then it’s radio then it’s television now it’s the internet. And THAT MAN goes out there and fills up this arani with his--he goes out there and does his--

CHANDRA: Stupid racist magic.

PLAIDDER: People in my country mostly don’t believe that curses are efficacious. But they are. If you’re powerful enough, you can curse people. If you’re the president of the united states, you can call down evil on someone, and the evil will materialize. He says the words--and they’re stupid, stupid words--but they still have power. They suggest images to people who hear them. And then people go and make them real. And then he can say it had nothing to do with him. Because there is no material, no evidentiary, no objective chain of causation. But everyone knows he’s doing it. Everyone knows. Regardless of what they admit. They know that his stupid racist magic is killing people. In El Paso. In Dayton. In Gilroy. He’s imagined a world in which white men are omnipotent and he’s making it real.

AINE: Trying to make it real.

PLAIDDER: Aine, it *is* real, don’t you understand, it’s real in a way that much as I love you you can never be.

CONN: If that gleachinai is doing magic then he’s not the only one. There are other visions in your country. There are better visions. People share them and work at them and some of them come true some of the time. You know that. I don’t understand why you say that this is the only kind of magic your world has. It isn’t.

PLAIDDER: But stupid racist magic just keeps killing people and I don’t understand why it just keeps getting stronger and more powerful and--

TYRNA: BECAUSE IT HAS GUNS.

PLAIDDER: OK, I get that, but--

TYRNA: Do you though? I don’t think you do. There’s nothing magical about any of this. Yeah, words have power, even when idiots use them. Because the idiots HAVE THE GUNS. All of this nonsense keeps happening in your country because nobody has taken the guns away from the idiots.

PLAIDDER: It’s very hard to take a gun away from an idiot.

TYRNA: Honey, what about me or my backstory would ever make you think that I do NOT know that?

PLAIDDER: Nothing.

TYRNA: Damn right. Yeah, it’s hard. It’s hard watching idiots ruin the world. It’s a crime and a shame. It’s unfair. But none of that is a new thing for me, all right? I’ve been fighting stupid racist magic all my life and I will tell you this. You want the balance restored, you have to take some guns away from some idiots. Now when is that going to happen, in your world?

PLAIDDER: Well, Tyrna, it could be said that your whole universe is the result of the fact that it is easier for me to imagine demons and monsters and devils and people shooting fire out of their hands than it is to imagine the government of my actual country actually taking guns away from idiots.

TYRNA: Wow.

PLAIDDER: Yeah.

DAPHIE: It isn’t always idiots.

PLAIDDER: Daphie...

DAPHIE: Jarad wasn’t an idiot.

PLAIDDER: I know. But some idiot made it easy for Jarad to get a RAF. I mean I never even explained how that happened, because in my own world that’s not an extrarordinary event. Like, of course he could find a RAF when he wanted one, that’s how things just are. I was...when I wrote your book, I was...not interested in that part of it. I was chasing all these other explanations, because that was what we all did, back in the aughts.

CHANDRA: So...I mean...what. You...regret the whole...our whole story?

PLAIDDER: No, no no. I just feel like...well, it took me a long time to accept the fact that actual problems are sometimes less interesting than fictional ones. Like, the fact that a problem is hard to solve doesn’t mean that its solution is fiendishly complicated. Sometimes the solution is really fucking simple. Too simple to entertain people. Too simple for narrative.

CONN: Is this, like, a two-hour special or something? It’s already gone on way longer than normal.

PLAIDDER: I know. I can never resolve these things, I just have to...end them. So I am. Thanks for coming, everyone. I hope it’s a long time before I see you again.

#the current catastrophe #this fcking emergency #wof #redemption

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comicreliefmorlock · 6 years ago

Note

So here's a fun game. What are, let's say...10-15 pieces of media (books, tv, movies, whatever) that seem to have been made JUST for you? why?

*cracks knuckles*

Surprisingly, not all of these will be Tanith Lee.

…however…

{And this goes under a cut because this is going to be a very long, verbose post. A really long, verbose post.}

1. “Tales from the Flat Earth” by Tanith Lee

These books are essentially like sitting by a crackling fire on a cool summer night beneath the glimmering night sky while a smiling crone cards wool and tells you the stories that come from a time aeons before your birth. I have never in my life found a quartet of books–let alone one book–that have so completely and absolutely captivated me. From the first page of “Night’s Master,” I was gone.

Not only the language–breaking the fourth wall and referring to “words lost when the world reformed itself in the chaos”–but the characters… Azhrarn, the personification of Wickedness who saves humanity with love. Uhlume, the personification of Death who faces a form of mortality and is forever changed by it. Chuz, the walking embodiment of Madness, who is gentle to those under his domain and understands that he cannot understand why he does what he does.

Ferazhin and Narasen and Sivesh and Simmu and Jornadesh and Kassafeh and Zhirem and Azhriaz and Dunziel… Names I have never forgotten because they all but sang to me. A flat earth that holds the best and worst of humanity, often balled into a single person, with Underearth and Innerearth and Upperearth holding gods that have grown so distant they no longer recall humans were their creation at all.

I have always loved mythology and these books? These are myth.

2. Pan’s Labyrinth -dir. by Guillermo del Toro

I’m not from Spain or know Spanish. I knew nothing about the Spanish Civil War when I first saw this movie. And this was the first film I saw that cemented del Toro for me as the only man I would ever trust to turn Tanith Lee’s books into cinema.

I love fairy tales, mythology and folklore. And when you read enough of it, you see how bloody it actually is. How terrifying it is to realize that you’re not the only one in the world, humans aren’t the only ones, there are creatures on the midnight side of reality that share space with you.

And I never really liked the Disney version of fairy tales with “happily ever after” and weddings.

This movie was literally like watching something I’d imagined for myself. The acting was fucking phenomenal, the sets and costumes were off the hook and the comparison of “fairy tale horror” and “real horror” that overlapped just blew me the hell away.

And Doug Jones… Doug Fucking Jones. I never respected mimes until him and now I give all the respect. Being able to act, to breathe real life into a concept and a costume until it becomes a character you could picture walking through a forest or peering around a corner while not being able to use your own voice OR your own facial expressions is a kind of magic I think does not get enough appreciation.

DOUG FUCKING JONES, LADIES, GENTS AND GENDER REBELS.

3. Fatal Frame - Tecmo

I’m a writer/reader, not a gamer. When I have downtime or I want to relax, I almost always gravitate towards a book instead of a video game. The few games I’ve played purely for my own enjoyment have usually been MMOs and involve roleplaying.

Except for the Fatal Frame series.

Survival horror is my favorite game genre and I lamented when Resident Evil became more “survival action” than survival horror. (Fuckin’ lickers in the original Resident Evil game oh my god.) I wanted a survival horror game that had some meat to it, had something really compelling about it.

And I found Fatal Frame.

I love Japanese mythology. I especially love Japanese ghosts. For some reason–maybe out of sheer novelty because I, being an ignorant American raised near the US-Mexico border, have had little exposure to it–Japanese ghosts are my absolute favorites. Yurei (and the other subclassifications) just have something to them that I haven’t found in other mythologies. I’ve read and reread Oiwa and Okiku’s stories, been fascinated by the concept of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai and wanted more of what I found.

Which Fatal Frame provided.

Not only do the game mechanics work beautifully for someone as easily startled as I am, but the story behind each individual game is achingly intense. The intricacy of the interwoven histories, the rituals, the underlying question of “was all this really necessary or was this a priesthood trying to stay in power”… I love absolutely everything about these games.

4. “The Blue Sword” by Robin McKinley

I’m not going to lie–this book took me forever to actually read. The first two pages were so achingly boring that I had no fucking clue why my mother had recommended it to me.

And then one day, bereft of anything else to read, I flipped through it. I still distinctly remember the line that made me stop and go “wait, what?” – “…your horse tells me where you’ve been…”

me: wait what horses can talk in this? wtf? *flips to the beginning and sits down to fuckin’ read it*

Slogging through those first few pages? Worth it. Because Harry/Hari/Harimad was the first heroine I’d ever encountered that I could imagine myself being. She was too gangly and not particularly pretty and kind of clumsy. She didn’t draw admiring eyes everywhere she went, spent a lot of time going ‘I can’t do this wtf’ and had aches and saddlesores.

Meeting Harry felt like seeing myself on a page for the first time in my life. And seeing someone with flaws like me going through adventure and fighting and succeeding and failing and getting a happily ever after felt like a warm blanket. Like someone had written a book just to tell me: “It’s okay that you’re not beautiful or graceful or soft-spoken and elegant. It’s okay that you’re clumsy and a goof and your hair is fuzzy as fuck because you can be a heroine, too.”

5. “Whoever Fights Monsters” by Robert K. Ressler

No, I’m not a serial killer. :D Nor am I an FBI profiler.

However, after reading “The Silence of the Lambs” by Thomas Harris for the first time in ninth grade, I was fascinated by serial killers. Like… how did they do it? How did they get away with it? WHY did they do it? What kind of person did things like this? I wanted to know so much more and I started grabbing every book on serial killers that I possibly could find.

And the reaction of classmates and teachers who saw my reading material was… less than stellar. Even my mother was vaguely worried about what I was getting out of reading all…that.

It felt like my fascination with serial killer psychology was a flaw in my character that no one else seemed to share. Until I read “Whoever Fights Monsters” and saw Robert K. Ressler talking about the exact same thing. He wasn’t a “sicko” or a “freak” or a “lunatic” or a “killer-in-training” for being fascinated by the psychology of humans who could treat other humans like a moment’s disposable entertainment.

And suddenly, neither was I.

6. American Horror Story: Hotel - FX

‘American Horror Story’ is entirely my thing. Interwoven narratives of fascinating (and often awful) people combining “American horror history” with interpersonal storylines? Yes, thank you, I’ll take a dozen.

This season in particular, however, is just more for me than any other.

Maybe it’s the vampires that are self-obsessed and not particularly powerful but end up with petty grudges and complaints. Or the ghosts that bitch and whine at each other, find consolation together, use Twitter and spend their long, long days doing little more than drinking, smoking and obsessing over their lives and deaths. Maybe it’s the single location with so many years of history weaving together like a book of short stories.

I love ‘Hotel’ because it feels like Brandenburg to me. I could so easily see the entire season taking place in my fictional city and mentally insert my own characters into the show without losing a single step.

Also Kathy Bates is absolutely glorious and I desperately wish to be a tenth as glamorous as Liz Taylor.

7. “The Butterfly Garden” by Dot Hutchinson

Books about serial killers? Yes, please.

Books about serial killers told by a victim who barely survived and understands what trauma really means? Yes, please.

What especially got me about this book is my thing for dioramas. The first one I ever remember seeing was in the El Paso Museum of Archaeology (yes, I’m from El Paso, Texas) and it always both frightened and fascinated me.

^ This one in particular would keep me motionless for ten or twenty minutes at a time, kind of terrified at a house within a building and then absolutely enthralled at a house inside a building.

And the dioramas mentioned in “The Butterfly Garden” were akin to those in “The Cell” –some terrible, awful glimpse into someone’s mind that was visualized and externalized in a permanent way.

8. “War for the Oaks” by Emma Bull

I love the fae.

And I also have read enough to know that those sprightly little fucks are terrifying and humans are rarely left unscathed by them.

This book was my introduction to “urban fantasy,” much as Charles de Lint was my introduction to what I consider “mythic fantasy” and a city that felt so much like my own.

And what was so quintessentially, absolutely me about this book–other than the main love interest being the Phouka :D :D :D–was the underlying theme about creativity.

It’s a driving force, a magic that humans have. It’s uniquely human (as far as we know) and often the only talisman against the dark that we’ve got. With creativity, there’s magic. There’s a spark of something beyond the mundane realities of survival. Creativity is a sword and shield all in one, complete with a lure to bring others along with you.

Whether it’s through music, art, poetry or graphic design, creativity is the actual drive for immortality that pushes us to reach beyond ourselves and touch those we have no possibility of seeing or speaking to in our own short, real lives.

9. Good Omens - Neil Gaiman/BBC

I loved the book when it came out. I didn’t expect to love the mini-series. I especially didn’t expect to love the mini-series for the #IneffableHusbands.

I won’t belabor the point about why this is on my list. The #IneffableHusbands tag on my OOC blog is enough. :D

10. What We Do in the Shadows - Jemaine Clement, Taika Waititi

Vampires who are as absurd, incapable and oblivious as me? Yes. All of my yes.

Having played the old World of Darkness tabletop games for years--and absolutely fallen in love with them--I found this movie and was in absolute heaven. These are vampires I can actually imagine hanging out with. These are vampires (and werewolves) I can envision walking around a city.

Noble creatures of the night don’t seem real to me (aside from the obvious reasons.) The supernaturals in this movie? They felt like people I knew. Like people I could meet or characters I’d written myself.

I like the fantastical being put into the mundane--which is why my genre is ‘urban fantasy’ although I have such an eye-twitch about it being all supernatural detectives chasing various pieces of ass now--and I especially love it when the fantastical doesn’t outweigh the mundane.

Imagining vampires vacuuming and riding the bus fits in nicely with my desperate belief (and hope) that the fantastical isn’t JUST imaginary but actually exists.

{And there, I’m restricting this to 10 or we’ll be here all NIGHT.}

#Asks #Writing is life #Books are life #Here are Angel's specific likes and dislikes #as shown through visual aid

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renaroo · 6 years ago

Text

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (1/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.

A/N: I’ve been toying around with this idea for what feels like forever, at least since the Rebirth books got launched over at DC, and I finally got time to really sit down and work it out. I’m really excited for this fic and hope it’s decent enough for some of you out there!

Blue Beetle

Life without an assistant, as it turns out, is shockingly compressed on time.

Jaime doesn’t need much help on his progress as the Blue Beetle, but so long as he is the Blue Beetle, Ted has no interest in slacking on the kid’s training. Assistant or no assistant.

With his laptop balancing precariously on his knee, and himself balancing precariously on the sloping hood of the Beetle, Ted is attempting to keep track of company stocks, a slack chat with members of his board, an incoming tech report from some computer analyst he hired out of Jaime’s high school last week, and not waste too much of his bagel in the process.

Despite the distractions, however, Ted’s real concentration is still on Jaime’s blaster as it destroys thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of equipment in the simulation fight.

It’s what Ted built it for, but still…

“Seriously, Mister Kord, I have to go meet my mom in, like, fifteen minutes,” Jaime shouts out over the sounds of debris dinging against the lab’s metal floors. He’s not even looking in Ted’s direction as he wastes another AI dummy that is gunning for him.

Feeling himself sliding a bit, Ted kicks back against the Beetle some to get back on his perch, his computer bobbing with the jarring, bagel bits flying. He wonders if an assistant would have helped with the bagel parts. And then he plays back the memory of Jaime’s highly pitched complaints.

“Hey, hey! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not Mister Kord, kid, it’s Ted,” he argues on the important part.

Jaime’s suit unites his hand blasters into a single canon and blasts through more expensive equipment. He then looks over his shoulder and squints his large, buggy yellow eyes at Ted. “Maybe you should stop calling me kid then, Ted! Also, you’re missing the part where I’m warning you about a very angry Missus Reyes.”

Ted answers an email by holding the remains of his bagel between his teeth. Then he tilts his head back and swallows what he can, choking a bit, and accidentally sending a string of keyboard smashes to his company’s board of executives in response to a question about why so much money is being poured into Extraneous Funding. Bits of extraneous funded superhero training material flies toward Ted and the Beetle and if Ted didn’t know any better, he’d think Jaime was aiming in spite.

“Watch it, Jaime! I just buffed out the last dent in the Bug,” Ted warns, using his not-free-but-freer hand to rub the glistening hood to his side.

There’s a keening noise coming from the scarab on Jaime’s back that is only matched in annoyance by the groaning that Jaime’s doing on top of it. “Mister Kord!”

“Ted!”

“Ted! My mom! Ten minutes!”

Stock prices do dip, there’s another email update from this needy El Paso kid-slash-computer-genius, the board is up in arms at the insufficient response, Ted feels his stomach churning either in response to the million nasty things happening or to his bagel. And it all culminates in a tremor through his lower spine.

Despite or because of everything happening, Ted slips more from his spot, his body shifting and sliding right off the nose of the Bug. He, and all of his things, hit the floor in a clatter that manages to get Jaime to turn away from his training simulation entirely.

“Whoa! Ted, are you okay?” he asks just before getting hit by a blaster from behind.

“See! Never let your guard down!” Ted manages to yell before rolling over onto his back and laying in his mess of a lab and mess of a life. “Not even for your great and mighty mentor.”

He continues to lie on the floor, noting mentally that it’s surprisingly comfortable given that everything exploding in the lab eventually ends up there. It’s only when his vision is obscured by Jaime — no longer in his suit — staring down at him that he centers himself at least enough to be responsible for the teenager that he’s totally responsible for.

“Are you okay, Mister Kord?” Jaime asks, brows knitted in a little bit more genuine concern than what he usually offers Ted.

“I thought about it,” Ted answers with a harrowing breath. He releases the breath and melts into the floor a bit more. “And no. But who, at thirty-six, can truthfully say yes to that question.”

Jaime looks at him like he has three heads.

“Talk to me again in twenty years and we’ll laugh about it,” Ted promises him. “Get out of here, I don’t need a scary-angry Missus Reyes and you deserve a break. What’d’ya say?”

“Okay cool,” Jaime says, immediately walking away.

“You cold offer to help me up!” Ted yells after him.

“Do you want up?” Jaime asks from the doorway.

Ted stares at the ceiling and considers it. “Get out of here kid, I need to find a new assistant.”

“See you later, Mister Kord,” Jaime calls, closing the door behind himself and the last laugh.

“Kids,” Ted huffs to himself. “I need an assistant my age. No. Ten years younger. So I can watch the hope and youthful naivety die. That should sustain me. Think like a corporate CEO. Socioipathy. Hating kittens and… breathable oxygen or something.”

There’s a long silence in the lab, just Ted with himself and his thoughts. And when those turn scary he finally manages to get himself up, gather his things, and to start working on the next project.

Finding his new personal assistant.

There has been a stack of portfolios on his desk for a while, now, a few days at least. And he should be going through them for review but he hasn’t.

They all look the same on paper. Even the one written in German.

There isn’t enough time, and he’s only getting shorter on time the longer he goes without a personal assistant who is literally a speedster.

Time’s a funny thing that way.

Ted finds ways to waste more time without fully committing to any project or any responsibility in a way that matters before giving up in defeat and burying his head into the paperwork on his desk. There aren’t as many pings from his computers and he could probably rewire some of the broken lab equipment sooner than later, but he’s not really doing anything by the time his bagel fullness has subsided into the ache of needing a lunch break.

Which, on a normal day, is when Ted can finally get a hold of everything and pick a direction. He doesn’t really get the opportunity, though.

His head is still on the desk when an unfamiliar, radiant light picks up somewhere in the center of the lab, sending out a subtle heat that dies down with the light itself.

It hasn’t been that long since lizard people attacked so it doesn’t automatically raise Ted’s hackles the way it probably should, but it does at least get him to look up from his desk and see that the light was from some sort of transportation used to enter his lab.

And the one who used the transportation was none other than his best-friend-then-gone, and oddly out of touch, for years.

Booster Gold stares at him from the center of the room, his goggles resting up on his hairline rather than on his nose, letting Ted see the way Booster’s eyebrows ruffle together. They then raise in almost shock as he continues staring Ted’s way.

Ted blinks a few times. “Mikey?”

There’s a deep breath from Booster before he even blinks. Then he shakes his head, as if trying to parse reality, before finally looking at Ted again. “Beetle!” he blurts out, like it’s something he hasn’t gotten to shout in years.

Which, who knows, maybe he hasn’t.

“Did you just teleport into my office-slash-laboratory?” Ted tries to figure out.

“Of course I did!” Booster shouts again, laughing forcefully. He almost seems hoarse already.

“That’s… weird. Since when could you teleport?” Ted continues to question. “Also why? And. Uh. Hello. Been a while.”

“It has been. It’s been… way too long,” Booster continues, seeming breathless. “Wow. Okay. Cool.”

He seems so incredibly happy and relieved and just all these other emotions that Booster doesn’t wear comfortably.

And Ted, well, he’s growing impatient the more the confusion lingers.

“Yeah, it’s like the last time I saw you was in a car commercial,” Ted says flatly.

“Ha, yeah,” Booster replies without any weight to it.

“Probably because it was,” Ted leans in.

That, at least, seems to bring down the thousand watt smile to something closer to a nine hundred. “Oh.”

The air becomes stale unbelievably quickly.

“Yeah,” is all Ted can manage to say.

Booster continues to stare at him, some of the disbelief finally fading into mild concern. Which, Ted kind of hates because only Booster could make him feel like the bad guy for pointing out the truth.

Well, maybe other people, like a well paid assistant someday in the near future.

“Did we leave off on bad terms?” Booster asks, obviously fishing.

“I don’t know,” Ted answers honestly. “Did we?”

With that, Booster’s brows furrow again and he tilts his chin down, running his hand through the back of his hair nervously. “Hell, I don’t know. I.. There’s been a lot, y’know. Just. A lot. And… I didn’t know I could… if you…”

There is something to Booster’s words and actions that feels disconnected. He’s holding back a lot, which is weird. Because it’s Booster.

But the sentiment, well, Ted knows it all too well.

“Yeah, I get it. Me, too,” Ted huffs. “I guess… I mean. There’s not a whole lot to hang out about when, well, I’m retired and you’re… not? I guess. I don’t know where you even live anymore.”

“I can’t… really retire from the current gig,” Booster announces, again with that veiled subject. But he’s quick to change topic. “And there’s every reason to hang out with you. In fact, I’m glad you’re retired. Fuck, man, you better be retired and…” He stops himself short, pinches the bridge between his eyes, and then comes back to focus. “I came to ask if you… if you wanna get some drinks?”

“You teleported into my office-slash-laboratory to ask if we could get drinks before noon on a Tuesday?” Ted asks incredulously.

Booster blinks, looks around the mess of a lab, and then looks at Ted again. “Uh. Yeah?”

Ted considers it only for a second before sighing and coming to his feet. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“Wow, that took… no work whatsoever,” Booster says in vacant surprise.

“It’s been a hell of a morning and I want to figure out what’s different with you,” Ted announces. “I mean, again, last time I saw you was a car commercial—“

“Did I look good in it?” Booster asks almost mindlessly, his gaze a thousand yards past Ted at the time.

“No, the whole thing was on your bad side. You know. Where your chin looks bad,” Ted responds sarcastically, looking Booster over. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just drinks,” Booster promises, holding up his hands.

Ted squints at him. “Drinks and… mole people? Time eating octopus? A heist for J’onn’s Chocos?”

“Do you really think so little of me?” Booster asks, actually looking at Ted again. He seems… strangely earnest about it all. In a raw, painful kind of way.

Ted leans back, worried. “Uh. Did someone die?”

“No,” Booster laughs. Only, it’s not just a laugh, it’s an uproarious joyful kind of noise from the back of Booster’s throat. “Isn’t that the greatest thing you’ve ever heard? Isn’t that the best news I’ve ever given you? No one’s… Everyone’s… Wow. I sound like I’ve lost my mind.”

Booster walks past Ted and all but collapses into Ted’s desk chair, crumbling like a fallen tower, until his head has fallen between his knees.

Ted is stunned. And worried. Mostly stunned.

“Jesus, Michael,” Ted manages to get out as he approaches his friend. He looks around his desk, grabbing for the menus he knows are somewhere among the rubbish. “We’ll just order and have something delivered here for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Booster continues hoarsely. “That sounds… Yeah, that’s an amazing idea, Teddy.”

At the sound of his old nickname, Ted has to pause looking through low sodium options and instead really looks at his friend. He’s pale and has bags under his eyes. There’s a certain unkempt nature to his hair and it’s sticking up behind his ears like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. He’s clean shaven, but there’s the dusting of five o’clock shadow on his left cheek from an uneven shave.

It’s the worst Michael has looked to his knowledge. At least short of any life-or-death situations.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ted not so much as asks as he demands.

“A lot,” Booster answers.

That’s not good enough and it explains nothing. And normally Ted wouldn’t think twice about saying as much. But for the moment, in that uniquely personal and miserably resigned way, Ted gives a gentler “Okay” instead.

When the air grows stale again, Ted tries a different approach.

“Is there anything you can tell me?”

Booster smiles just enough that his dimples make themselves known. “You’ll never have any idea how happy I am to see you again, Ted.”

Despite his confusion and concern, Ted can’t help the no-doubt dorky smile that comes to his face. “Right back at you,” he says, and it’s so truthful it hangs heavy in his voice. He offers up, in a mousy way, his fist. “Blue and Gold?”

There’s a brittle honesty to the expression of relief and appreciation in Booster’s face as he takes his own fist and bumps his knuckles against Ted’s. “Blue and Gold,” he says back almost reverently.

For a moment, Ted wonders how this is going to end, if it will be too soon or too long. He’s just strangely concerned and glad all at once that it exists at all.

So, of course, predictably, it ends too soon.

There’s a flash in the center of the laboratory, just like before, only this time both Ted and Michael are looking in its direction before it’s even over.

Booster manages to voice his surprise before Ted even has the chance.

“Skeets?” Booster’s voice strains.

“Michael, you’re needed for…” Skeets’ synthesized voice hesitates, if such a thing is possible for an AI, and the shiny robotic body shifts into Ted’s direction for a moment. “Hello, Blue Beetle.”

“Hey, I have a secret identity,” Ted jokes, waving to his Blue Beetle themed tee and the Bug.

Skeets, ever the comedic one, does not even acknowledge the detectable sarcasm in Ted’s voice before turning back to Booster. “Sir, you have an… appointment. With Rani.”

Ted can’t help his eyebrow raising and he looks toward Booster for clarification. He’s never heard the name Rani before, at least that he can think of. And he definitely hasn’t heard the name in connection to Booster.

But there is immediate recognition in Booster’s eyes. His body tenses up and he seems immediately more put together than he has appeared since teleporting right back into Ted’s life. He doesn’t even seem to realize that Ted is looking directly at him.

“Is she okay? I mean, does it have to be right now or…” Booster trails off, looking to Ted.

“I have been sent after you, Michael,” Skeets deadpans.

“Can’t you reschedule?” Ted asks, a little put off by all of this rather sudden and unexpected developments.

“It’s not that kind of date,” Booster says, getting to his feet and then flinching at his own words. “It’s… not a date at all it’s…” He seems uncomfortable in his own skin for a moment, scratching at his chin. “You…uh… I guess we should catch up. Soon. Like, really soon. You don’t know Rani? Really? Damn. I mean…”

“No,” Ted says flatly, crossing his arms as he sits back on his desk. “I guess we should catch up soon. Like over a lunch or something.”

“Okay, great,” Booster says, walking forward.

“I’d say pop in any time, but that seems to be the assumption—“ Ted begins to snark, but he’s cut off almost immediately by the tight embrace of Booster. It’s so tight it nearly knocks the air out of him.

Booster’s been working out since they last got into shenanigans together, it feels like he’s cutting off Ted’s circulation almost just through the hug. It’s warm, though, and it feels like the sort of emotional explosion that Ted would expect after years. Without the random teleportations and promises of lunch left thus far unfulfilled.

After a moment of the hug, Ted is finally able to gather himself enough to hug back, too, patting Booster’s shoulder as he does so.

“I miss you, too, buddy,” Ted says.

“It won’t be long, I’ll… I can promise that,” Booster says, finally letting go, holding Ted’s shoulders at arms length. “There’s just… some really hard stuff to explain going on right now.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ted jokes as Booster lets him go. “It’s… uh. Well it’s good to see you again. And will be again. Soon. Ish? Right?”

“Definitely,” Booster promises, getting close to where Skeets is in the center of the lab. “I’m… It’s great to see you again, Ted.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ted responds, waving just as the flash of light from before happens again, disappearing along with his best friend and his best friend’s robot from the future.

He remains where he is, leaned back on his desk, and tilts his head to the side.

“So how do I explain any of this in my log today,” he wonders out loud. After a long moment, he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Blue and Gold Nonsense it is then.”

#dc fic #Booster Gold #Blue Beetle #Boostle #Michael Jon Carter #Ted Kord #DC: Some Times (Time and Time Again)#writing

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