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ps-i-dont-even-know · 3 years

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Devil may cry parent headcanons

Dante

He probably is a fun dad but at the same time don't leave your kids with him, it would be a disaster

Will wake up to crying at 12 am and try to put the kid back to sleep, ends up with both of them watching tv instead

This man will do anything with your kid, they want to go to the park, sure he'll have to keep an eye on them. They want to see the movies, sure has to be below pg or he will never hear the end of it from the nightmares his kids have. Want to go to the zoo, sure he just needs to make sure they don't go into the exhibit.

He will play dress up and tea time with them. He will put on a dress and have them do his makeup just so he can go to tea time, and might start some beef with Mr teddy for stealing his cupcakes, but he will do it proudly.

He will try to do their hair in the morning for school, again he is not the best at it and will probably give them crooked pigtails, he's trying he really is.

Can't cook for shit, I'm sorry if you think he could cook please take a look at all the pizza box stored around his shop. Like he will take cooking lessons or watch cooking shows but dear god how do you set fire to milk.

He will always be there for his kid to vent even if he doesn't know how to respond he will sit and let them rant about stuff, also trying to cheer them up because he doesn't want to see them sad

If they brought their homework to him he would be confused he can barely pay his bills i don't think he knows how to do math, but drama he will rock that stuff his acting skills are on point even if it's cheesy

Will waste all his money on the kid, toys, clothes, video games, you name it he will buy it and give to the kid

Remember how I said not to leave your kid alone with Dante yeah, he may or may noteave his weapons/devilarms around for the kids to grab them, like halfway of Dante walking into the main room and he sees ebony in his kids mouth he tricksters all the way to them and quickly grab ebony before anything bad happens, but the kid will start crying and he has to find something for them to mess with or he'll get a headache

He accidently devil triggered in front of his kid now depending on which one he get two responses and he's expecting screaming for both, but if its regular dt like humanish looking one, "woah, dad grew scales and wings, are you a lizard king?" Now its his Sin Dt he would get "Oo, daddys a gaint dragon" for both case they will proceed to touch his scales? And will be all over him trying to climb him to the point he literally has to switch out of dt so they don't get hurt. Also he's a heat source for winter if the heating doesn't get paid for.

If his kid comes out as any of the lgbtq+ he would be supportive and loves them for who they are, I also see him being apart of it too.(I know a few people see him as asexual I do too, as well as bisexual)

Vergil

Look this guy probably has no clue what he's doing, even if we wish he could've taken care of Nero (at least I do) he didn't and now he has another kid to take care

Please help him hold the baby, he can't properly do it at all, he's just holding them by their chest and staring at them with confusion as the child cry, "why won't they stop screaming?"

He will get the hang of taking care of the kid, but please don't leave him alone with them for long he still has no clue what he's doing half the time

"Hey can I hang out with (insert name) at the mall?", "Do I know their mom?", "Uh, no", "Do I know their dad?", "No" Then that settles it, you can't go", "But-", "No buts, if I don't know their parents you can't go, and that's finale"

Can he cook, probably but he's been in hell for most of his life and doesn't know what he's doing half the time. Thank god for cooking shows and book he at least tries a learn how to cook, and doesn't burn anything unlike someone else

He will read the kids William Blake or other bed time stories before bed time, and will do activities where they try to make up poems he has to thank Nero for the idea

Speak of Nero, if Vergil has a mission he will leave his kids with him, he's not trusting Dante at all. Nero absolutely loves his step siblings even if their like a few years younger than him, they will either play with the other kids at the orphanages or play Nero which consist of Video games, sometimes sword fights if they beg long enough, or just talk about the stuff their dad and uncle does that are stupid and make fun of them for it.

Also that one dad to try and help with math homework but makes the kid cry because they don't understand the problem and he's yelling at them "What's 2 x 2?" Its traumatizing please someone tell him to cool it or his kid is going to have problems when it comes to yelling and math, also complains how he didn't learn it that way as a kid, I promise you he was homeschooled.

Now his kids can vent to him but he has no clue what to do nor have much good advice but he will give what he knows even if it's not the best.

This can go many ways, this man know his kid is getting bullied he will go down to the school with the Yamato and threaten someone's life, give his kid the sword for them to deal with it instead, or use some brain cells and deal with it like civil people and we hope he chooses the last one

Now he's a little careful with his devil trigger and doesn't want to scare his kids, but its by accident really and he expects screaming, just like Dante he gets two responses. Regular dt and I'm going off of 4 because I don't think he has one in dmc5, "Dad, why didn't you tell me/us your secretly a bug, don't worry well keep you away from shoes." If its Sin Dt, "Wow, your a dragon this whole time, does this mean I'm also a dragon, where do you keep your stashed gold?", I feel like for his regular dt they will sometimes smack him with a fyswatter and he has to turn out of his sin dt quickly because they want to mess with the fire coming out of him.

If his kids come out as lgbtq+ he will be supportive and a little confused because he has no clue what it is. They have to explain what it means and what their sexuality means, he'll still be supportive and loves his kids no matter what they are

Nero

Out of Vergil and Dante, he's probably the one who knows more about taking care of kids since he grew up with them in an orphanage and takes care of them

I feel he's like a mix between Dante and Vergil, Fun dad but will put his foot down on somethings

If its a girl you bet he will go out to a store at whatever time it is and buy then pad/tampon when their monthly comes no questions asked he just knows. If its a dude he will give the talk, not just protection but what not to do, like when a girl tells him to stop he needs to stop, no advancing on or anything like that (I feel like the no advancing will also go for the girl)

Doesn't do favoritism, he hates that stuff since he technically dealt with it as a kid, if one kid ask why he loves the other more than them he will shut that down quickly and tell them he loves them equally and will move moons for them to both be happy

Best cook hands down, and will let his kids help if they want to but keeps them away from sharp objects. He will also take them out to dinner if he doesn't want to cook

He's decent with homework, and goes about it in a fun learning experience for the both of them, if they get an answer right they get a point that they can trade for something special later kne, if they get it wrong they will go over it again, but still get a point because no favoritism. He also help make a volcano, but also put a little extra pizzazz to it, and might have caused the whole kitchen to be a different color now.

His kids can vent to him, he will understand and try to help give advice for some issues, also takes them out of the house to do something they want to do to cheer them up

He will encourage his kids to follow what they want to do, play a sport? He will show up to every game, even if that means giving Dante his mission he will. A club? He will make sure they have everything they need for that club and be on time for it, be it art, book, yearbook, student council, etc. They want to do boy scout/girl scout, he will make sure he gets them a vest and help put pins on as well. He will be the number one supportive dad

As soon as his kid comes to him crying about how some other kid is bullying them he will be mad, he'll reassuring his kid that they are amazing first, then go to the school, if they don't do anything he will go straight to the parent and make sure that their kid doesn't mess with his anymore.

Will watch anime with them, if they agree that is don't want your dad into your stuff. But like he's absolutely into it, he seems like the person to like Bleach (this was not intentional I complete forgot that the voice actor for Nero also did Ichigo) or Cowboy Bebop. Maybe sailor moon but you won't hear him say it

Look he's really new to the devil trigger business, the only thing close he had was that ghost creature, so keeping this thing in check and not popping up randomly is hard. His kids reaction are, "You hair is longer, are you like rapunzel, oh wait you have wings and a crown your an angel. Oh can I braid your hair please," of course he will let them braide his hair he can't say no to a pouting face, they also will poke his wings to see if their real.

He will definitely support his kid if their aprat of the lgbtq+, will buy them flags, merch, you name it. He want his kid to feel safe and loved

Lady and Trish

Look I can't separate these two, when I first saw them I thought they were girlfriends, and I can't let that go. But these two would definitely be the fun and protective mom

So considering Trish and Lady are both females they definitely have to adopt of course, now Lady may not know if its half demon or full, but Trish does and she probably would help the kid when they get older since she knows about the demon body considering she has one, if its human Lady knows the most about the stuff going on when they get older and has I already planned out.

Now Lady has to be the protective mom because the shit happen with her dad she definitely doesn't want anything bad to happen to their kid, and Trish is like you do you kid if you get hurt you learn from it "its the demon way of raising" she says. Though she still will watch over them and make sure they don't get themselves severely hurt

They will buy their kid anything, and take them out shopping. It's like a spin the wheel of pay to see if they will pay for the stuff or put it under Dante's name for shits and giggles

Lady has to like keep her weapons locked up somewhere safe, unlike Dante, she's more careful with her weapons

If their kid is mad or something Trish will take them to some deserted area with some random stuff she found that isn't in use and have their kid throw it in the air so she can blow it up with her lighting, you know to blow steam off

Trish or Lady tell their kid the stupidest thing Dante has done or said, if they visit Dante please note one will scream if Dante says something about a soul, "I should have been the one to fill your dark soul with Light" and get the voice crack right too, he will look so embarrassed

Now Trish might not know anything about homework she'll support the best she can but Lady knows most of the stuff and will help.

Trish will tell their king everything about Hell, who's in charge, what creatures are there, the history of it all. Its a great learning experience until you tell them that the female demons kill the male after finishing mating

If they are out in public and some guy is hitting on their kid and their tell him no, protective mom mode is on. Mostly Lady has to stop Trish from frying thr guy, but Lady will give the man a price of her mind saying if he tries to do this shit again with her kid he will be going home with a foot straight up his ass. So now no man tries to hit on her

Definitely let the kids go venting to them, they give the best cuddled, some good advice, and shopping if they say someone's bullying them they will see that the parent deals with their kid.

They knew their kid was apart of lgbtq+, of course their supportive of who they are, they are dating of course. They will take them to a pride march in June

Kyrie

Look, LOOK, she is an amazing mom, so caring but also will put her foot down on somethings

Besides Nero she is a good cook and baker, while she doesn't want kids in the kitchen while she's cooking will will have them help with baking sweet

Reads bedtime stories and tucks her kids in and kiss goodnight (ugh my heart hurts I love this)

She will play video games with her kids mostly on the wii, she still the champion on Mario Kart and Just Dance no one has taken their spot yet, even Nero tries

Packs lunch for her kids and puts a note in it telling them that she loves them and hope they have the best day

She does worry about them from time to time when they go over a friends house, only because of what happened to her brother and then Nero she doesn't want anything to happen to her kids

Tells them not to climb the tree in their backyard, what does one of them do, they climb it and accidently falls down. She goes to them saying "You know I told you not to do it, and you did it anyways, you need to be more careful and listen to me. I'm not doing this because I'm being uptight I'm doing this for your safety I want you to be able to do the things you want in the future"

I feel like she's the same way with friends like Vergil, if she doesn't know the parents then you can't go out or over their house

She is really a good listener and help with advice, so venting to her is a really great idea also will ask about your feelings and how your doing someday, like she knows your in a sad mood

She also good with homework, I feel like she wanted to become a teacher as well as study for it, but instead stuck with taking care of orphans, so she probably homeschools her kids too

She also makes the kids clothes time to time, they have little sweaters or shirts that are soft and comfortable

She is so supportive of her kids if they come out lgbtq+, she doesn't care as long as their happy thats all that matters.

Nico

Now I love Nico amazing and pretty girl but don't leave a child with her, just like Dante it will be a disaster, but she probably would try to be a better parent than her since he technically wa this weird freaky man who experimented on demons or was weird.

Let's start with teaching the kid every swear word she knows and tells them to go up to Nero call him one of those names, she will hear her name being screamed and find an angry Nero going over to her as she burst into fits of laughter

Will be extra pair of arms when getting a tool they need for fixing the van, when Nero does understand what a Dohicky is

I think Nico can cook, its decent not bad or good, she did nearly burn the van down from trying to cook turkey.

She will try and cut back on smoking or at least not doing it when the kid is around because its bad for them, Nero scoffs because she nags him when he tells her to stop, but not her kids

Now her kids could bring homework to her, like he's good in math, engineering, and probably biology, but she'll act as if she never even seen the stuff in her life, because she wants to get her learn it and not her just giving them the answer. But if their kid is in a science fair I bet she will help make something totally child friendly(its not really), it kind of gets her and her kid ban from doing anymore science fairs.

She will teach then everything she knows about Demon, mostly the biology of it, and when Nero brings a demon part for his breakers, she goes in explain how she turns them into those.

Will tease her kids if they talk about their crush, she's a huge teaser so saying something about someone they really like or anything its a mistake, she will embarrass them in front of their crush, but she means well

If they try to change the channel of the radio she swats their hand saying the driver picks the music and the passenger has to sit and listen.

If she's busy with something she will let Nero and Kyrie babysit her kids, she trust them and the kids love Nero and Kyrie.

Tries to teach her kids how to drive when their of age to learn, but Nero and Kyrie won't let her considering how she drives and that the instructor is more legal to do it.

No but she will tease her kid a bit if they come out lgbtq+ too, of course she supportive I kind of see her being apart of lgbtq+ as well

*Bonus because it seemed reasonable to just put this one here like this*

Nero, Dante, Vergil, Lady, Trish, Nico

They will teach their kid self defense, and how to use a weapon. While they rather their kids have a normal life instead of a demon hunter for many reasons, they at least want their kid to take care of themselves if they find themselves in a situation where their life is on the line

#devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #dante devil may cry #nero devil may cry #devil may cry headcanons #dmc kyrie #devil may cry nico #devil may cry lady #devil may cry trish #devil may cry headcanon

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iheartgracie · 2 years

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sophie winters soft quotes part 1

Mina would want me to move on. She’d want me to be happy. And she’d want me to stay clean. So I’m going to do that.”

“And though you’ve made some pretty bad choices, you’ve made some decent ones, too. You got clean—and you stayed clean. I believe that. I believe you”

“I saw Kyle yesterday.”

“Run into him, did you?” Rachel asks sarcastically.

I stare at my coffee instead of her. “I might have locked him in the men’s room and threatened him with bear repellent,” I mumble.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s probably a horrible idea,”

“I wanted to make myself better. For Mina. For me.”

“I like the feel of dirt between my fingers, nursing delicate plants into strength and bloom. I like watching things flourish, like the swath of colors I can grow, bright and alive. It hurts to get up and down, but the pain’s worth the effort. At least I have something pretty to show for it.”

“you’ll be okay. You’re strong, Soph. Just think about all the stuff you’ve gotten through.”

“Get up.” Mina yanks at my blankets, and I can’t fight her with just one hand, my other still in a cast.

“You’re mean,” I tell her, rolling slowly over to my other side, smashing my extra pillow over my head instead.”

“You’re the one who broke her crown.”

I don’t bother to hide my grin. “I didn’t mean to step on it! That float was totally unstable. And I was already at a disadvantage.”

“Uh-huh, I believe you, Soph,” Mina says. ”

“It makes me laugh, the sound bursting out of me like truth. It makes me want to cry and thank her. To tell her that I’ve never told anyone before, and to tell it and have it be accepted like it’s no big deal feels like a gift.”

“You tricked out my cane.” I reach for it, and my smile is so wide, I feel like it’s going to split my face in two”

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t make you walk that far. I’ll go get help and come back for you.”

“I’m being stupid? You’re the one who failed the wilderness skills part of Girl Scouts. You’ll probably get eaten by a bear. You go, I go.”

“We’re gonna be late,” Mina says.

I zip up my boots and pull my jeans down over them. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Chill.”

“I can put aside my anger. I can be kind. She would’ve wanted that.”

“I’m not gay; I’m bisexual. There’s a difference.”

“This isn’t gross. You know what I think when I see this?”

I shake my head.

Her voice drops. She’s whispering, a secret for just the two of us: “I think about how strong you are. You didn’t stop fighting, even when your heart stopped. You came back.”

“Mina beams. “You could’ve just gotten me flowers.”

I set a seedling carefully into the dirt. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’ll make sure to thank you when I win my Pulitzer.”

“I’m honored.”

#sophie winters #sophiewinters #sophiemina #far from you #farfromyou #tess sharpe #tesssharpe #sophie winters quotes #far from you quotes

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

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I Love You (Part Forty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD, Dom/sub relationship, death, etc-- everything Criminal Minds.. I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12575

Timeline: Season 7 Episode 01. Three months after part forty-six.

For the past three months, the team had worked dozens of different cases across the country, but none of them mattered except for the one that Morgan, Garcia, and I had been working on privately. Since I came back to work and was deemed the temporary unit chief, I decided to reopen the Ian Doyle case. At first, it was just me. When I wasn’t at work, I was at home, hiding in the upstairs office, working on trying to piece all of the evidence together to figure out where the hell Doyle could have possibly gone. But then it was just too hard to keep doing it on my own, and all of my resources were wasted. There was only one person who had access to more information than I did. Garcia. So, I asked if she would be willing to help me, but it was impossible for her to keep a secret, so we invited Morgan to help us. From there, we managed to find Declan, but we didn’t tell anyone about it outside of our small group of three.

Finding Declan was an interesting process. I had hit a wall with it, hence why I acquired Garcia’s help, but she managed to find him almost immediately after she told Derek what was going on and he helped profile Emily in order to profile Declan. He figured that she had been the one to move him considering how she died protecting his identity and location. Before joining the team, apparently she lived in Reston, Virginia, something I didn’t know about her, but he managed to know. From there, we decided that it was probably to be close to Declan. So, we started narrowing it down. We knew that she liked cul-de-sacs, so as Garcia was going through the school system to find kids that looked like Declan, she compared if their guardian looked like Louise, his nanny, and if they lived in a cul-de-sac. Then, bam. We found them.

Morgan had been the one to offer up the idea of looking for Declan before Ian because if we found Declan, then so would his father eventually, which made our job easier. After that, it was just a waiting game. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do beyond searching all of the footage to see if Ian ever showed up, which he never did. When Morgan and I were away on cases, Penelope kept an eye on him; and when we were in town but not working on anything, Morgan was driving baby Emily out there and taking her on walks around Declan’s neighborhood to scout the place. I think it was also just an excuse for him to have Emily more.

On our way to work one morning, Morgan and I stopped to get sandwiches for lunch, as well as some donuts from Leonard’s for the office since we were feeling generous, I suppose. At work, we split off so that he could sit in the bullpen while I dragged my feet up to my office. I didn’t understand how Hotch did it. Being away from the team all day, every day was so… isolating and exhausting. There was no joking with Morgan, teasing Reid, or… well, when Emily was around, there was no more chatting with her and gossiping about Hotch. I missed the way she used to slide in veiled threats into the conversation about how she would hurt him if he ever hurt me. So, then again, maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t down in the bullpen anymore. Sitting at my old desk would have just given me a reason to sit there and stare at her desk all day, reflecting on what it was like to have her around, wishing that I could bring her back.

By lunch time, Morgan rescued our sandwiches from the fridge and brought them up to my office. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from me. I caught my sandwich as he threw it at me, then tossed him a water bottle from Hotch’s secret stash in his bookshelf behind the desk. I hadn’t really changed anything. For the most part, the office was still exactly how he left it. From the artwork to the family photos, to the stacks of case files that he practically left for me on his desk to work through, to his computer wallpaper of us, it was all still Hotch. The only difference was that I was finding all of his secrets now, like the water bottles, and totally taking advantage of them.

Morgan kicked his feet up on the desk, something Hotch would’ve never let him do in a thousand years, and dug into his lunch. I picked at mine for a moment while thinking. I was doing too much of that nowadays. Without my “other half” (or some cliché shit like that) around, I didn’t really know who to talk to 24/7 about what I was thinking and feeling. Sure, I could’ve talked to Morgan, but it was different. When I talked to Morgan, it was like we were brainstorming for a solution; but with Hotch, it was just like he was there to listen, and I could go on and on for hours, and he would hear me out, and he would only offer up a solution if he felt it were necessary. Sometimes I just liked ranting my thoughts to him. I liked watching how he would slowly get lost in the details of my face as I would be talking, and how he it looked like he was falling in love with me over and over again with every minute that passed. Skype and calling on the phone every day didn’t do that look justice anymore.

“Oh, my god—Oh, my god—Oh, my god!” Garcia came running into the office with a laptop balancing on one of her arms. Morgan and I turned to face her. “It’s him! It’s him!” She quickly set her laptop down on my desk and pressed play on a video. Morgan and I both leaned forward in our seats to watch the security footage from Declan’s house. “It’s Doyle—” She paused and pointed to a driver in a car passing by. It was kind of hard to see, but when she zoomed the image in and enhanced it, it was undeniably Ian Doyle.

“When was this?” I asked, jumping into action by standing from my seat and started collecting everything we had on this case thus far.

“Two hours ago.”

“He could have Declan by now. Fuck.” I looked at the two of them to say, “Okay, I think it’s time. I’m going to call Hotch to let him know, meanwhile, I need you guys to get the team together and start explaining everything. I want Reid and Rossi to go retrieve Declan and Louise after they’re briefed.” I grabbed my phone from my desk. “Go.” Just as they were leaving, I dialed Hotch’s satellite phone out in the Middle East.

Hotch and I had still been calling each other every day and Skyping as often as we could. The longer he was there, however, the busier he and I got with our two different jobs, which made it increasingly complicated to keep up with each other. But we made the effort. We knew that if at least one day passed where we wouldn’t talk, one day would inevitably turn into two, then three, and so on. I didn’t want to stop talking to him. As boring as the conversations could get at times, at least I got to see him. He was growing out a beard that I happened to love, but Jack hated. He claimed that it made his dad look old. When we could talk in private a little bit later, I told Hotch that I thought it was hot, and that I couldn’t wait to pull at it while he towered over me. He disliked when I teased him like that, though.

When I called, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re calling awfully early,” Hotch said over the phone, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world.”

I blushed to myself and looked down to watch the toes of my shoe dig into the ground over and over again. “There’s something you need to know, baby, and you have to promise to not get mad.” He didn’t say anything. “Morgan, Garcia, and I have been looking for Doyle while you’ve been gone.” Still, nothing. “We found Declan.”

“What?!”

“Hotch—”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Y/N? Do you know how stupid that was? Your whole career could—”

“I don’t care about that, Hotch. I really don’t. I knew that finding Declan was the best way of finding Ian, so I asked Garcia to help; and you know her, she couldn’t keep it to herself, so she told Morgan, and he insisted that he help us. He’s basically the one who found Declan. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have any leads.”

Hotch sighed quietly. “Is Declan safe?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Morgan’s still surveilling him—But, Hotch, listen, we were right. By watching Declan all this time, we got eyes on Ian.”

He hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure?” He sounded more scared than angry now. I hummed a “yes” in response. “Baby, listen to me right now.”

I bit my lip. “I’m listening, Sir.”

He chuckled slightly. “If you get eyes on Doyle, you need to take the shot. Got it? Don’t let him get away again.” He sounded out of breath now like he was running around. “I’m coming back to help.”

I felt my heart skip a beat and the air leave my lungs with one shocked gasp. He was coming back. After three months, I was finally going to get to hold him in my arms again, and I was going to get to kiss his lips again. Holy shit. He was coming home. My husband was coming back to me. I almost wanted to dance and cheer, scream from the top of my lungs how happy I was and that I couldn’t wait to see him; but I had to show a modicum of respect still, so I buried that feeling until I would get to see him again.

“You can do that?” I questioned cautiously. As happy as I was, could he really just abandon his post to come back like that? It sounded almost too good to be true.

“I put in the request to transfer back to Quantico about two weeks ago.” And he didn’t tell me? “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up on anything; but they don’t need me here anymore, so it’s not a big deal if they find a replacement.” I hopped slightly with joy and giggled. Hotch chuckled at me. “I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Even considering the circumstances, I couldn’t wait to see him either. “Call me when you’re landing.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

By the time Garcia followed traffic camera footage across the state just to see where Doyle was hiding out, we had a SWAT team with snipers on call, and the team was ready to head out there. Just as I had ordered, Rossi and Reid headed to get Declan, but the drive was pretty far, so I didn’t expect to hear from them for a while, especially while we were in the early stages of staking out Doyle’s place. Morgan, JJ, and I were trapped in a van across the street from his apartment while SWAT was just down the road, and they had two snipers up on separate roofs. All of it was my call, though. The second we had reasonable cause to believe that it was actually Ian Doyle up there, I would be the one to dictate if the snipers or Morgan would be taking the shot, like Hotch said.

“That’s all Hotch said? ‘Take the shot’?” JJ questioned warily. I nodded and shrugged. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing…”

I eyed her suspiciously for a moment, taking into account how her gaze wasn’t resting on one thing, but instead a thousand different things, like she was too anxious to focus. It was odd, but I shrugged it off with the excuse that finding Doyle was a big deal. Since he killed Prentiss, we had all been itching to find him and avenge her. Out of everyone, I knew that JJ would want to know that Doyle was dead because of us. She wanted that justice. I couldn’t exactly tell why, but she had always been like that, especially since getting promoted to being a profiler.

And then my phone started ringing with a call from Spencer who had just arrived at Declan’s house. I figured it was just an update. I mean, him and Rossi were there to simply pick up Declan and Louise, that was it. But then something worrying happened when I picked up the call: Reid sounded concerned.

“Reid?”

“Declan’s missing,” he answered quickly.

“What?”

“We just searched the house, and he’s gone, so we called the school to see if he even made it home, and they told us that his mom picked him up early.”

“Louise?” I speculated.

“I doubt it.” He sounded annoyed now. “She’s dead.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, then looked up at Morgan and JJ to tell them what was going on. They also cursed, and he hit the side of the car. “Okay. Reid, you and Rossi should meet us here in case we end up seeing—” The sound of a police car’s siren flew past our van, catching our attention. It was just a squad car. No, no, no, no. Fuck. That was going to scare Doyle off. Fuck.

“He’s inside!” Morgan exclaimed. We all turned to face the window to see the drape in Doyle’s apartment window shaking like it had just been disturbed. “I saw him!” Morgan was already fiddling with the door handle and pushing his way out of the car.

“Shit…” This wasn’t at all how I imagined this going down. We were supposed to just monitor the situation, get legitimate confirmation that Doyle was in there, not just Morgan claiming he saw him— But what choice did we have now? “Go, go, go,” I made the call, following Morgan out of the van and hanging up the call with Reid.

JJ, Morgan, and I raced inside first, the SWAT van pulling up behind us and the team moving in, too. When we reached the apartment number, JJ and I stood our ground in the hallway with our weapons raised, and I gave Morgan the signal to kick the door down, which he did without hesitating, and then he dashed inside. The three of us took turned towards different sides of the apartment in order to clear it. Morgan went straight into the living room/bedroom, JJ went into the bathroom on the left, and I stepped into the tiny kitchen on the right. He wasn’t there. Neither was Declan. Reid said that they couldn’t find Declan, so I only assumed that Doyle got to him first. Fuck! How the fuck did he—

“I’ve got something!” Morgan called out. I hurried into the living room/bedroom to see him peeking up at the ceiling inside of the closet. I cocked a brow and carefully approached. “He’s climbing to the roof.” There was a hole in the ceiling for some kind of secret tunnel that led upwards.

“Follow him,” I ordered. “I’ll take the steps. JJ, watch the door downstairs to make sure he doesn’t get out, and coordinate with SWAT to make sure that the block is locked down just in case. Get a crime scene team here to see if Declan was ever here.”

Morgan holstered his weapon then quickly pulled himself up into the tunnel to follow Doyle, meanwhile I hurried out into the hallway to start sprinting up the rest of the stairs, and JJ ran down them. How the fuck did this happen? How did we lose Declan like this, and how was Doyle actually planning on getting out of this?

And then I burst out onto the roof to see Morgan chasing after Doyle who was running for the fire escape on the side of the building. Morgan aimed his weapon, but didn’t shoot. Instead, he tried commanding Doyle to stop. Like that would help.

“I’ve got the shot,” one of the snipers said over the comms.

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. “Don’t!” I knew what Hotch said about taking the shot if given the chance, but things were different now that we couldn’t find Declan in the apartment. Our only way of getting him back now was by keeping his father alive. Asshole. “Hold your fire!” When nothing came, Morgan tackled Doyle and spun him onto his stomach so that he could be handcuffed. “You got it?” I asked him. He nodded while slapping the cuffs on Doyle. “I’ll have JJ take him back to the office while we start going through everything downstairs.”

Morgan groaned as he yanked Doyle up onto his feet. “You��re not gonna let me take a crack at him?”

“Not yet.”

Doyle chuckled. I squinted at him while searching his eyes for a reason that he could have possibly found this funny. He noticed my curiosity. “Lauren was right about you.”

Morgan tugged on Doyle’s restraints to make them hurt. “Shut up.”

Doyle kept laughing as Morgan pushed him towards the stairwell so that JJ could take him to the office like I had ordered. My only question, however, was, what the hell did he mean by that? Lauren was right about me? Right about what? The question lingered in my head as I sighed and moved to walk downstairs, too.

Afterwards, hours passed while we were combing through Doyle’s apartment, trying to find clues about where he must have taken Declan, as well as compiling evidence connecting him to Valhalla and Prentiss’s death. For someone in hiding, there was a lot he had with him. Usually, people in his situation would stay minimalist and wouldn’t have all of their condemning evidence in one spot, but Doyle was so cocky that he wouldn’t get caught that he didn’t bother to keep any of his current business elsewhere. There were so many guns in that one apartment that we could have started another small army. I couldn’t understand how on Earth someone would need all of that. Then again, Doyle already had a small army, and the reason they needed to smuggle all of those weapons out of the state was so that he could maintain power in Europe while he was underground. Well, looked like all of that was worthless now.

I sighed as I stepped outside of that tiny, dirty, smelly, cramped apartment for the first time in over ten hours. It really took that long. Doyle had been sitting at the office the entire time, brewing in his own thoughts, which was our strategy to break him. If he was left in darkness and silence long enough, he would open up. Hopefully. At least, Morgan and I would give it a shot when we would head back to the office. For now, we were down tearing the entire apartment to shreds. The bastard even had papers hiding behind the wallpaper.

When my phone started buzzing in my pocket, I sighed again and dug it out. “Hotchner,” I answered.

“Mmm… I could get used to that,” Hotch’s voice echoed over the phone, making me melt.

I perked up within an instant while looking down at my watch, spotting the time and how long it had been since he last called me, and how he promised he would call when he was close to landing in Virginia. Finally, I thought. “How close are you?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

It was almost morning already. He was probably going to be landing just as the sun would start to peek over the tall buildings of Quantico. “I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Y/N, you should stay—”

“Nope,” I interrupted adamantly.

Hotch chuckled. “You’re really going to be a brat about this right now?”

“Mhm. You can scold me for it when you see me.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, sunshine,” Morgan said, sneaking up behind me, “you ready to go?”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, baby,” I told Hotch. Before he could say anything in return, though, I hung up on him. I hid my grin as I buried my phone in my back pocket, then turned to face Morgan. “Can you handle the interrogation for a bit while I head to the airport?”

“He’s back already?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan nodded. “Go get him.” We smiled at each other. “No detours, though, sunshine. There and back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I responded half-heartedly while already walking away from him. “Just remember, when this is over with, you and Clooney are going home!”

----

To say I was nervous would have been a drastic understatement. I had gone four months without seeing him. Four months without his touch, his kiss, his hold, his love. A lot could change in four months. People could grow apart in four months. I was absolutely terrified that even though we called each other every day, we might not have been the same Hotchners who said goodbye to each other at the airport a few months ago. I knew that I still loved him endlessly— maybe even more now that I had been starved of him for so long. But I didn’t know what happened to him out there. I didn’t know what new experiences he had that could have possibly changed him. For all I knew, he could walk off that plane in a few minutes and walk right past me without a care. I just prayed that he was still Aaron. That the man I fell in love with would walk off that plane and know exactly how to hold me again. It was like I could already feel his touch, even though the plane’s engines hadn’t died out yet. He was so far, but he was so damn close. This was the closest we had been in four fucking months, and I was just so ready to see him already.

The plane came to a slow and steady stop on the runway. With every second that passed, I felt a growing need to throw up everywhere. He was probably sitting in there, watching me through the window, grinning ear to ear because I looked so nervous and sick. He could likely see me, yet I couldn’t see anything but the sun in my eyes. He was always an asshole, but he even had to beat me to the first look. Asshole x2.

The door of the jet popped open, and it started slowly falling down towards the concrete, the stairs on the inside making a slow appearance. I thought about what was going to happen. How was I going to react? How was he going to react? Was it better to stay where I was or was it better to meet him at the bottom of the steps? I felt like even if I wanted to move towards the plane, I wouldn’t have been able to. I was frozen in place as my mind raced with questions and endless possibilities. But there was one thing that was consistent: I was going to hold my husband in my arms, and I was going to tell him that I loved him over and over again until I passed out.

The second I saw a foot step out of the jet, I started sprinting as fast as I could without stopping to think. The rest of him emerged, and Hotch looked around for me. After spotting me from the top of the stairs, Hotch jumped down the steps, dropped his bag on the runway, and started running towards me, too. He held his arms out, an invitation for me to jump and hold him tight, so that was exactly what I did. Our bodies clashed, but he still managed to catch me, even though the force sent him stumbling back a few unwanted steps. My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his hips, my face buried in the crook of his neck. It didn’t matter that he smelled like sweat, sand, and cheap deodorant, because he was finally home with me and that was all that mattered. Hell, I even enjoyed the smell since it just meant that I had him in my arms again.

I squeezed him tight with my arms and legs after he nuzzled his face— beard, sunglasses, and all— into the crook of my neck. The aching in my chest, my broken heart that had been falling apart during every second that he was away from me, slowly started to mend with every breath we took together. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry, scream, cheer, laugh, or all of the above. Every single emotion imaginable was flooding my body and the only way I could cope with it was by nearly squeezing the life out of him while repeating: “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over in his ear. I never wanted to stop saying it. I prayed that he would never let me go again and that we could say those three words until there was no more breath in our lungs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” we kept whispering like we were records stuck on repeat. Fuck, I missed the way he said it to me. I missed the way he said my name and the way he called me “baby”. Nothing felt more right than how he spoke to me and how he kissed my neck in between words.

When his beard started tickling my neck, I finally paused to let out a giggle. I leaned back, his arms still around my torso to hold me for support, and I got a good look at him for the first time in months. There was no screen between us, no shitty computer cameras, no god awful Skype buffer, no speakers that cut out every other word. He looked so different than how I remembered him. His face was slimmed behind the scratchy beard he had grown, and his eyes were more sunken with exhaustion— if that were even possible. Aaron Hotchner always had dark circles under his eyes, that was no secret. Between work, the kids, and wrangling me, Hotch never had time to sleep; but Pakistan kicked his ass, and I could see it in every little detail about him.

He watched me with the brightest smile I had ever seen on his face as I brought my left hand up to his face and scratched my nails gently down his beard. “This is even hotter in person,” I smirked.

“It has to go the second I get an electric shaver,” he laughed.

My smirk fell and I pouted, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “But I have literally never wanted to fuck you harder in my entire life.”

He paused and gulped. “Okay, so maybe it can stay for a few days.”

I perked up again at my little victory and scratched it again. “Please don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

“I’d rather die than go away again.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic, Agent Hotchner.” I hit his shoulder playfully. He grinned before tightening his arms around me again to make me lean in for a kiss. I grabbed his face, the hairs on his cheeks tickling my palms as I did so, and I moaned into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

His eyes screwed shut as he slid his tongue into the kiss and claimed dominance. I missed that feeling so much. I missed how he tasted, how he smelled, how he felt, how he had to dominate me every second of every day. I missed getting lost in his eyes and staring at his lips all day until I could finally kiss them until our lips were chapped. If there weren’t a million and one things going on outside of that airport, I would have begged him to take me inside and fuck me in the bathroom. It should have been impossible to need him that much considering everything that was going on with Ian Doyle, yet there I was, only thinking about showing Aaron Hotchner how much I loved him.

Hotch pulled away from my lips, but he kept his nose pressed to mine. “Emily?”

“At home with Jessica.”

“Jack?”

“At school.”

“You?”

“The most relieved I have ever been in my life.” I leaned in and kissed him again. I thought to myself: “Please, never let this end. Let us stay trapped in each other’s arms forever. Never let us get tired of kissing each other, of holding each other, of saying ‘I love you’. Never let the desperation for passion die. Never let me miss him ever again. Keep him by my side until we die of old age. Please.”

And just like he could read my mind, Hotch loosened his hold on me ever so slightly, making me drop down to my feet, and he said, “We should get back to the office.”

I shook my head. “Just… One more minute… Please.”

“One more minute will turn into an hour at least, you know that.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No, it isn’t.” Hotch cupped my cheeks and kissed me as hard as he could. After a short minute of him kissing me like he had been starved of it for years, Hotch pushed me away. Our hands fell to our sides and I bit my lip while I tried to focus on not jumping on him again. “We have to go.”

I tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace. It took every ounce of strength and self-restraint I had stored away to not jump back on him and kiss him again. I felt like I was going to cry because he wasn’t in my arms again. I felt like screaming and kicking— throwing a tantrum like Jack would. I felt like at any moment, the two of us would break, and I would tackle him to the ground before showering him in kisses and pinning him down so that he couldn’t leave me again.

Hotch stumbled away from me to grab his go-bag from where he dropped it because he had the same look I had, and I knew that he was sharing the same thoughts. When he came back, he took my hand, and we walked towards the car. I started catching him up on everything we knew about the case thus far. Ian and Declan, all of Ian’s business papers that he had in his apartment. I realized then just how little we actually knew. Hopefully by the time we got back to the office, Morgan would have something out of Doyle that would help.

I drove the whole way to Quantico because he was too tired from the flight and the time zones. He had one of my hands trapped in his instead of on the steering wheel, and he kept kissing my knuckles again and again. He wasn’t listening to me. Not that I blamed him. If he wanted to just talk shop and I was sitting there, not distracted by driving, I would’ve been antsy to shower him in love, too. But Morgan said no detours. As much as it pained me, he was right that there really wasn’t any time to drive home, or even pull to the side of the road to fuck Hotch. I really, really wanted to, though; so, I figured the longer I distracted myself with work, the better off we would be. After this, though… Once this was all resolved… I wasn’t letting him go.

At the office, Hotch and I headed up to the sixth floor, somehow managing to go that entire time without touching each other. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to hold him again. While we were standing in the elevator, I stared at him and thought about pushing him against the wall, but it wasn’t worth it right now. I hated this inner battle I was having to fight between wanting him all to myself in that very moment and just focusing wholeheartedly on the case. The worst thought hit me suddenly… Maybe it would have been better if he didn’t come back so soon… I mean, he was just so distracting, I felt like I couldn’t celebrate this win as much as I should’ve been.

And then we stepped onto the floor.

“Hey.” Hotch grabbed my hand, tugging me back a few steps towards him. “You trust me, right?”

I furrowed my brows as I turned to face him. Of course I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I? He was my husband, and we made a promise to each other a long time ago to not keep any secrets from one another. I had no reason to doubt him. I wouldn’t have met him at the airport like that if I didn’t trust and love him wholeheartedly.

“You know that I do everything for a reason?”

What was he on about? Was there something I missed between meeting him at the airport and walking into the building with him? Why was he suddenly acting so weird?

I put my hands on his biceps. “Listen. I know that you told me you were in an all guys unit. If there’s something you want to say about it, I’m all ears. And I’m going to support you no matter what.” I bit back a smile.

Hotch cracked a smile. “No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I mean.”

“Phew.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I thought I was going to have to give you the birds and the bees talk, and how love is love—”

“Shut up.” He laughed before kissing me.

I pushed him back gently. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to cheat on me, it should at least be with a guy so that you get to experiment a bit.” I patted his chest.

He was still laughing quietly. “What am I going to do with you, Agent Hotchner?”

“I don’t know, Agent Hotchner,” I responded as I let him pull me back in for another kiss. “I’m sure you’ll think of something before we get home after this case, though.” I pecked his lips again, then escaped into the board room.

Everyone was standing behind the round table, huddled together as they discussed something about the case. It seemed as though Morgan had just finished his first attempt at getting information out of Doyle, to no avail. They were discussing how he was going to approach the second try, but no one’s ideas seemed to stick since Morgan had an excuse for why none of it would work. It was like we had hit a dead end, even though Doyle was the end, technically. He was the one who took Declan, and he was the one who took our sister from us. Prentiss was dead because of him, and we weren’t going to let him get away this time.

When Hotch walked into the room, everyone fell silent and turned to get a look at him. Hotch really didn’t seem to care about our no PDA at work rule now, because as everyone’s eyes lingered on him and his beard, Hotch came over to me, took my hand in his, and kissed my cheek. A lot changed for him in the Middle East, I guess. He missed me and he didn’t care what rules we had. He wanted to just have me around all the time, and I couldn’t blame him. But, technically, I was still the unit chief until Hotch could officially come back, and I couldn’t let us break the rules. Now I understood why Hotch was always so adamant about me behaving while at work. It was excruciatingly painful to not touch and kiss him just because I was the boss and had to set an example.

I moved away from Hotch, taking my seat at the round table. Everyone followed my lead warily, their eyes still trained on Hotch. Him and JJ didn’t sit, though. They were the only ones who stayed on their feet at the front of the room. Hotch had his arms crossed, a frown hiding under his facial hair, his eyes wandering around the room as he thought nervously about something. This had to do with him asking about my trust, but I didn’t understand how. Him worrying about something and not telling me almost immediately was only making me worry, too. He needed to spit it out fast or I would go insane.

“Everything alright, Hotch?” Morgan asked, also taking notice of Hotch’s clear unease.

Hotch didn’t nod or give any kind of reassurance that everything was alright. Instead, he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet— a silent tell that something was definitely wrong. He kept his head down now, only glancing up through his lashes occasionally to look at me. A thought struck me that maybe my joke wasn’t really a joke in the hallway. Four months was a long time to go without me, and it probably didn’t help that all he got was shitty phone sex. Maybe he really did change out there in the desert. Maybe he was showering me in love because he was going to drop a huge ass bomb that said: “I’m leaving you” or “I’m quitting the BAU and running away forever” or “I’m taking the kids and you’ll never see them again.” Every shit scenario possible was racing through my head. Like I said, if he wasn’t going to spit it out soon, I was going to start screaming for answers.

“Nine months ago,” Hotch began, “I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Prentiss lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. We told you that she succumbed to her wounds…” He hesitated a beat. “That’s not really the case.”

Shock filled the room as it dawned on each of us what Hotch was really saying. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions because I really, really didn’t want to get my hopes up… but it sounded like he was telling us that Prentiss was alive. That over the past seven months, we have been led to believe that she died in that hospital.

“The truth is, the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

My shoulders fell. So, it was true. Emily Prentiss was alive. The woman we mourned the loss of for seven months was… still around all along? That was why Hotch asked if I trusted him. That was why he was being so handsy. He knew that I hated it when he kept things from me. He knew that I hated it when he would betray my trust like this. I yelled at him for weeks the last time he did it— which was our suspension over two years ago. He was asking about trust and touching me as often as he could because he didn’t know if this admission of the truth was going to break us apart. This wasn’t like him lying and going to ask for a transfer out of the BAU. This wasn’t like him lying to me about his health. This was Emily Prentiss. This was our sister we lost in the field. We buried her. Why did Hotch… What… I— My thoughts were too scrambled to form another cohesive thought other than: “How could he do this to us?”

“After she got better, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given multiple fake identities so that she could be safe,” Hotch continued.

“She’s alive?” Spencer finally asked the clarifying question we were all dying to know the answer to.

Hotch nodded shortly, keeping his eyes lowered. He wasn’t even looking at me now because of the shame and guilt he likely felt.

“But we buried her,” Spencer croaked.

Hotch nodded again. “If anyone has any issues with the executive decision that I made, then they can take it up with me.”

“Issues?” Morgan asked angrily. “Issues, Hotch? Yeah, I’ve got a few issues, but why don’t you start with the fact that you let your own wife believe that Emily was dead and let them name your daughter after her because of it, hmm? Don’t you think that you owe Y/N an explanation?”

“Morgan,” I hissed quietly. It was neither the time nor the place to discuss my daughter. I had a few choice words for Hotch running through my head, but I fully intended on keeping them to myself until Hotch and I could speak privately.

“Emily’s alive, Y/N. How are you going to explain that to your daughter as she grows up?”

“Stop it,” I demanded more harshly.

There wasn’t anything Morgan could say to me that I didn’t already know. Hotch had betrayed everything we believed in and promised each other. He had told me countless times since meeting me that he would never lie to me, and every time he ended up breaking that promise, he would tell me that it wouldn’t happen again. But there we were. Another promise broken. Even worse, though, was the fact that he made a vow to me on our wedding day that he would always be honest with me. Always. And yet he kept this a secret from me. Did he not trust that I could have kept it a secret? Morgan was right, I was owed an explanation. Hotch kept this from me, his wife for nine months. What else was he hiding? How was I ever supposed to trust him again?

I stood from my seat and turned for the door. No one said anything as I took a step but came to a sudden halt when I discovered that my path was blocked by someone in my way. I felt like I was going to pass out. There was she was: Emily Prentiss… standing right in front of me. Back from the dead.

She let out a sigh of regret, but also relief, when our eyes met. She looked sorry about how all of this happened. And she should have been. Morgan sat on our couch for months, crying because he missed her so much. I named my daughter after her because I missed her so much and I wanted her memory to be remembered. What was it all for, though, now that was standing there? What was the point now? Morgan was right to be vocally angry because he knew that I couldn’t. But as mad as I was at Hotch, I felt an overwhelming need to hug her. I crashed into her. I didn’t hesitate. Nine months without her. Nine fucking months.

Emily caught me as I embraced her as tightly as I could. She rubbed small circles on my back as she held me close. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

I sniffled into her shoulder while I hugged her tighter. She was there. Like, really there. I wasn’t dreaming or hoping anymore. It was her. Our family was back. And I was just so relieved. I couldn’t even be mad at her. But I could tell as I pulled away from Emily and turned to look at the room with her that Morgan was pissed beyond compare. Everyone was crying because they were so grateful for the fact that she was still alive. However, Morgan wasn’t. He was standing there, pouting with disbelief, his hands curled into shaky fists that were holding in all of his anger.

She carefully let go of me and approached Morgan. “Derek, you have to believe me when I tell you that not a day went by where I didn’t think about you guys and how sorry I am that things turned out this way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t deserve to know that you were alive?” he questioned through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t deserve to hold a dying friend in your arms.” Prentiss extended her arms for another hug, a silent offer for him, which he took slowly, as if he were afraid that he would fall right through her like she was some kind of ghost. When they embraced, however, I saw Morgan’s anger wash away. Now, he was just broken. “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her waist as tight as he could for as long as he could before she tapped out and parted from him. She turned to face me again. “I want to meet baby Emily, if you’ll let me, once this is all over.”

I nodded, still too hesitant to say anything.

She smiled. “Okay… For now, I just want to focus on finding Declan and bringing him home safe. What do you guys know so far?”

Reid immediately jumped to his feet like this was his moment to shine, and he started asking her questions about Declan, Ian, and Louise, but I couldn’t hear anything. Everything seemed so washed out and distant. The only thing that was clear to me was the shame on my husband’s face as I stood there, staring at him, silently letting him know just how badly he had fucked up this time around. He could hardly look me in the eyes.

“Can I see you in my office?” he asked.

Everyone watched us silently, wondering if I would correct him on the fact that it was my office now. Or maybe they were waiting with anticipation to see if I was going to blow him off considering I had been glaring at him the entire time since I found out that Prentiss was alive this whole time—and he knew! But that was exactly why I indulged him. I didn’t correct him, I didn’t argue with him, I didn’t embarrass him. I simply followed him to his office.

I sat in my chair at my desk, which all used to be his before he left. He sat down across from me in one of the seats I would sit in whenever I was called to meet with him in his office. He seemed so out of his element in that chair, and, honestly, I was glad. I wanted him to be uncomfortable. I wanted him to be physically and emotionally uneasy because that was how I felt every day while he was away, and that was how I felt since finding out that our daughter’s namesake was actually alive and well.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I inquired, reclining back. He shook his head. “You were going to just let me think that she was dead in order to, what, make me feel better about naming our daughter after her? Why didn’t you try to stop me—”

“I did try. I asked you if there were really no other names you could think of, but you were so adamant about it and I couldn’t tell you the truth; so, I just had to let it happen.”

“Is that why you left?”

Hotch froze for a moment while searching my eyes, and before he even began nodding, I knew the answer. He sighed. “It was hard to keep lying to everyone, but it felt impossible to keep lying to you specifically, especially since you took Emily’s death so hard… So, I just… I ran.”

“So, you would have stayed if I knew the truth?”

“Yes.”

I scoffed and let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Baby, I am so sorry, you have to believe me. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did.”

“Yeah, well, you had a choice in that, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I was just trying to protect her—"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, proceeded by Garcia cautiously stepping into the office. “Sorry, ma’am, but I found something.”

I nodded her over, holding my hand out for the file of information she put together. Hotch eyed me. Usually, it was him sitting in my current seat, ignoring me in his seat as he accepted another file from Garcia who had addressed him in the first place. Everything felt so backwards. But, then again, maybe that was what he deserved now that I knew that he had been lying to me this entire time.

“I was narrowing down a list of Doyle’s top ten enemies from what we know and what Morgan’s getting out of him. The only one who’s been in the states recently is Mr. Richard Gerace. He’s been here for the past two weeks with a work visa.”

“Is there any way to connect him to this?” I asked while flipping through the file.

“The guy who cut off the camera feed at Declan’s house had a scar on his neck...” She turned the next page for me and pointed to a mugshot of Gerace. He had the same exact scar on his neck, meaning it was definitely him who took Declan.

“Get me everything you can on him, please, Penelope,” I said while closing the file and setting it down on my desk. She hesitated. “What is it?”

“That’s everything I have.”

I sighed. “Can you call Prentiss in, please?”

“Sure…”

“Thank you.”

When she left, I sighed and looked at Hotch again. Neither of us said anything as we stared at each other uncomfortably, a barrier of trust broken between us now. I didn’t like it when he lied to me. Every time I told him not to lie to me, he promised he wouldn’t, and then he would, and I would be mad for a few days before forgiving him and moving on. How much longer was I supposed to put up with it? I couldn’t even count how many times he lied to me on my fingers anymore. Meanwhile, I could count the number of times I lied to him on one hand. At some point, enough was going to be enough, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to be soon. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t keep living with the lies. What was more important to him? Me or protecting his secrets? If the answer wasn’t immediately me, then there was an entirely different conversation we needed to have at some point that included what our future was going to look like.

“We’re going to talk later,” I finally told him.

As we were coming back to the office together, Hotch stopped to ask if I trusted him, and at the time, of course I did… But now? I wasn’t so sure. Then again, I’d said that a dozen times before when he pulled this shit. The worst part was, that I knew that I was going to end up crawling back to him, and it was going to be an excuse for him to lie to me all over again.

Hotch nodded. “Yeah…”

There was another knock at the door, this time from Prentiss, who seemed too shy to invite herself in, even though I had requested her presence. I waved her in.

“Gerace,” I said, holding the file out for her. She slowly walked over and accepted it. “Garcia thinks that he’s the one who took Declan.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted before even looking at the file. I waited for her to explain why she thought that. “Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago, and he’s too much of a coward to pull something like this off. Not to mention how meticulous the abduction was. Gerace doesn’t have that level of patience and organization.”

I scoffed and wiped my palms over my face. “He was our only suspect and lead.”

“I mean…” She flipped through the file. “That’s definitely Gerace’s scar… So, I suppose he had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t say he’s solely responsible. If he’s working with a partner, he’s definitely the submissive.” She flipped another page. “Hold on—” I looked up at her. “Look at this.” She turned the file to show me one of the shots from the security footage of Gerace turning the cameras off. “Look in the background.” There was a woman standing there, watching Gerace while cocking a gun at her side. Prentiss’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “This might have something to do with Declan’s birth mother, considering the overkill towards Louise, who was Declan’s mother figure throughout his entire life.”

“Do you know who she is?”

She shook her head. “No. Doyle never told me.”

“Would you be willing to go in and get the information out of him now?”

She looked between me and Hotch, almost as if she were waiting for permission from him, but then she recalled that I was calling the shots right now until Hotch could be reinstated into the unit by Strauss and Cody. She finally gave in. “I don’t mind giving it a shot.”

Since Prentiss was still just a visitor, she couldn’t technically be allowed to wander the floor on her own. Even though she knew exactly where the interrogation room was and how to get there the fastest, I still had to usher her there. So, without saying anything to Hotch, I started walking out. Prentiss watched him silently for a moment before deciding to follow me.

“You know,” she said while catching up to me on the ramp outside of my office, “unit chief suits you.”

“It won’t last long. It’s just until Hotch can come back.”

We continued on towards the interrogation room in silence. When we stepped into the mirror room, I saw that Morgan and JJ were there, watching Doyle who was sitting on his own, staring at the wall while he silently thought and worried about his missing son. With others around to “officially” watch Prentiss, I took my leave almost immediately, heading back to my office so that I could sit down, catch my breath, and have a moment to think.

When I got there, Hotch was already gone. I glanced across the bullpen to see that he was in the boardroom with Rossi, Reid, and Garcia, all of them working on finding who Declan’s mother was in case that was the next fresh lead we would get from Doyle. They were fine on their own. For just a few minutes, I could disappear, and no one would notice. So, I closed the door, spun the dial of the blinds until they were shut tight, and I immediately broke down. I didn’t even make it to my chair or the couch. I just fell right then and there.

I started crying with my face hiding in my hands. Getting Hotch back should have been the best thing in the world, and yet it felt so shitty. I hated that he lied to me again. I hated that things went down like that. I hated that our daughter was mixed up in the drama of it all now just because of her name. I hated that I was mad at the love of my life after just getting him back, because instead of wanting to hold him close until our last breath, I wanted to kick his ankles until my anger was gone—If my anger would ever go away.

And then there was a knock at the door.

I tried catching my breath and calming down enough to wipe my tears away, but the door opened before I could collect myself entirely. I hid my face in the shadows. It didn’t matter who it was because I was just hoping that they would leave me alone now that they saw me collapsed on the floor and hiding my face while sniffling.

“Sunshine?”

I let out a choked sob when I realized that it was Morgan who had followed me from the mirror room to my office. “What?”

He knelt beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Come here…” He turned me slightly until I was facing him, and we immediately pulled each other in for a tight hug. I hid my face in his shirt, letting my tears soak the fabric without care. “It’s okay. I promise. Just breathe.” He rubbed circles on my back to help me calm down slowly.

I started to catch my breath by sucking in deep breaths and letting out short ones. “You shouldn’t have brought up Emily earlier,” I whispered.

He had been completely out of line when he brought up my daughter in the context of Prentiss still being alive. That was a conversation for me and my husband to have at a later time when we could talk privately. It didn’t give him permission to put our predicament on blast. I was sure that everyone had been thinking it, too. I mean, they were all probably wondering the same thing I was, which was what the hell were Hotch and I going to do now that Prentiss, our daughter’s namesake was back? But, honestly, it was none of their business. Yes, Morgan was her godfather, but he wasn’t her father, therefore, he had no say. He would be the first to know when a decision would be made, of course, but not before then.

I slid out of his arms and fell back against the wall carefully to just sit there and stare into the darkness. “It wasn’t fair,” I continued.

“I’m sorry, cupcake…” He slid down the wall to sit beside me, then took one of my cold hands in his. “My emotions have just been all over the place, and I snapped when I didn’t mean to. I know that’s not an excuse, but…” He sighed.

“I get it.” I rested my head on his shoulder. Of all people, I understood the most how Morgan felt.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Kind of…”

“Are you going to forgive him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Morgan swung his arm around me so that he could hug me close to his side. “Do you ever just miss the old days when things were so simple? Gideon and Elle were still on the team. Pretty boy was still dorky and quiet all the time. Hotch actually talked to us and trusted us.”

“You mean talked to you and trusted you.” I chuckled. “He didn’t talk to me when I first joined the team.”

“Yeah, because he had a schoolgirl crush on you. That doesn’t mean he didn’t trust you. But wasn’t it so much easier back then when you two weren’t together, and everything was just about putting the back guys away, and nothing was ever personal…” He sighed. “I think we just haven’t been the same ever since the Fisher King.”

He was right. That was the first case where we were all effected personally, and an Unsub got under our skin, and tore our family apart. I mean, I assumed that it was because of Randall Garner that my sister left the BAU. If we had never gotten mixed up in that case, maybe she and Gideon would still be around. But then again, if that were the case, then we wouldn’t’ve had Rossi or Emily on the team, and I was genuinely happy that I knew them and that they were apart of our family now. Rossi was Hotch’s best friend who liked to help me pick on him from time to time. Emily was one of my closest friends… At least before she left. I didn’t know where we stood now. That was what Morgan meant by things being easier back in the day, though, I supposed. Things weren’t so messy.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed quietly.

----

Not even an hour later, Prentiss had already convinced Doyle to tell us who the mother of his child was and how to find her. With Garcia’s help, we managed to track her down. Her name was Chloe Donaghy, and she was a notorious crime lord who ran a human trafficking and prostitution ring. She and Ian had met about eight years before Prentiss met him. When she found out that she was pregnant with Declan, she tried to kill herself to make sure that his son would never be born, but Doyle stopped her before she could even swallow a single pill, and from that point on during the pregnancy, she was his prisoner. He kept her locked away. She was chained to a bed in a locked room in his heavily guarded home for seven months straight. She was given a healthy diet for herself and the baby, and Doyle had a doctor go to check on her every other week or so to make sure that they were still okay. Once she had the baby, however, she left. She wanted nothing to do with Declan, and everyone knew it, so Doyle practically paid her to stay away and to never tell a soul about their son.

However, once she found out that Ian was a wanted man and was in hiding, she decided that she wanted a piece of him in the name of revenge. So, she got the same idea as us. Knowing that Ian would try to find Declan, she waited until someone found him first—which happened to be us—and once she knew where her son was, she jumped at the opportunity to take him when everyone was too distracted to notice. We managed to track her down to Baltimore. It looked like she and Gerace took Declan down there, and they were planning on selling him to another one of Doyle’s enemies, a man by the name of Lachlan. That wasn’t good. If Declan left U.S. soil, there was nothing we could do. It would be left up to the CIA or another agency similar to them, but they wouldn’t care. So, I made a call.

I decided that the best way to ensure that little boy would never die at the hands of a revenge driven monster like Lachlan was to have our team pursue this. I knew the risks involved with the choice. I knew that my career was on the line, and that I would inevitably be demoted as unit chief—if I were lucky. Worst case scenario, actually, was that I would be fired. But I didn’t care in the moment, because all I could think about was the fact that there was a little boy out there, wondering why his own mother was doing this, and why he was facing danger again. And then I thought about Jack. Declan was around Jack’s age. I couldn’t bear to think that it could have been Jack in Declan’s shoes, and that if that were the case, I would want someone to fight for him until he was safe at home.

So, I made the call to use Doyle as a pawn in our game. We loaded Doyle into an SUV with myself, Hotch, and Morgan, and we drove down to the airstrip where Garcia found out that Chloe and Lachlan were catching a flight at together. Emily was against the idea. She was concerned that Doyle was going to get away, or that Chloe was going to get Declan and Ian, and all of this was for nothing. I wasn’t going to let that happen. We were going to get Declan back, and we weren’t going to let Doyle get away. After everything that happened over the past few months, I was going to die before fucking this up.

“You wanna do it, or should I?” Hotch asked as we pulled up to the jet on the runway. I gestured that he could go for it, but I didn’t look at him or say anything in response. I still wasn’t ready to do that much. “Okay.” Morgan handed him the megaphone, and Hotch stepped out of the car to announce, “Lachlan McDermott and Cloe Donaghy, this is the FBI. We know that you have Declan Doyle. To ensure his safety, we would like to make a trade. Declan for Ian Doyle.”

That was our cue to show off Doyle to the world, so Morgan and I pulled him out of the car, making sure that our grip on him was strong enough that he couldn’t wiggle out. And then we heard a gunshot, and I saw a muzzle flash from within the jet. No. No, no, no. There was no way they just killed Declan. I refused to believe it, but just in case it was true, we kept Doyle close to the car so that we could stuff him back in and drive off if we had to.

Suddenly, the door of the jet started falling open, revealing the steps that Lachlan started storming down with Declan in front of him. I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the same time as Ian. It didn’t last long, however, since Lachlan immediately put a gun to Declan’s head.

“Bring him here!” Lachlan demanded, referencing Doyle.

Hotch looked over at me. “You’re still the unit chief. It’s your call.”

I sighed quietly while trying to quickly weigh the pros and cons. It certainly wasn’t ideal to put Doyle in Lachlan’s line of fire, but if it was the only way to get Declan…

“Now!” Lachlan yelled.

Within an instant, I was pushing forward, Morgan following lead by helping me move Doyle towards Lachlan. When we were close enough, we pushed him onto his knees and waited for something to happen. Lachlan smiled wickedly. He said something to Doyle, but I wasn’t listening while my attention was trained on Declan and trying to figure out how I was going to grab him on time while Morgan made sure he still had a grip on Doyle. I just had to trust the process, I supposed.

When I heard movement from the jet again, I looked up to see Chloe limping out, holding her stomach from the shot she took from Lachlan. They must have argued about taking our deal. Before I could tell her to stay back, though, I saw how she was raising her arm and aiming at me, Ian, and Morgan.

“Gun!” Morgan shouted, tackling me out of the way just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. I groaned as the wind was knocked out of me. Morgan rolled off me to check to see if I was okay. “Are you hit?” I shook my head. “Doyle—” He spun around on his knees to see Ian falling to the ground while holding his bleeding neck. “Shit.”

Another gunshot fired, this time from Chloe aiming directly at Lachlan, instantly killing him. In retaliation, Hotch, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ all shot down Chloe as fast as they could. Hotch ran over to me, putting his hands on my cheeks while scanning my body with my eyes to make sure that I was alright, the same way Morgan had. I inhaled sharply as I caught my breath. I got that Morgan was just trying to protect me, but did he have to go all high school footballer on me? Fucking hell. We were on concrete. The tackle was worse than getting shot, in my opinion.

“Next time, I make the call. And it won’t be this one,” Hotch whispered to me, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Ha. Ha,” I responded sarcastically. “Help me up.” We clasped our hands together, and he pulled me to my feet, letting me stumble into his chest somewhat before I caught my balance. “Thanks.” I patted his chest. “This is why you’re the unit chief.”

He kissed my forehead. “You thought you were doing the right thing, and that’s all we can ever do.”

I glanced over to Doyle who was reaching out for his son, knowing that it would be the last time. A part of me broke somewhat. As much as I despised Doyle, I had nothing against his son, and seeing a bond between a father and his son, even though they hardly knew each other at all, made me think about Hotch and Jack. It could have been Hotch instead of Haley who died in our house two years ago. We were beyond lucky that he was still with us. That I had a husband who loved me, that our daughter had a father who wanted nothing more than to raise her away from all of this chaos, that our son still had a father who would protect him no matter the cost. We were, by some definition, “lucky” that it wasn’t Hotch and Jack there instead of Ian and Declan.

----

By the time we cleaned up the mess at the airstrip, I had called Jessica and asked if she could bring Emily to the office to surprise Hotch, but also because Prentiss asked if she could meet her, and I felt like after the long day we had, we all deserved that. I mean, she was our little sunshine. If anyone could change the mood entirely, it was her.

So, when we all returned to Quantico, I told security to keep an out for Jessica and the baby—to which they all cheered about how excited they were to see her. The team went up to the boardroom to start tearing down all of the photos and evidence on the walls. Another chapter of our lives closed. Over months, we had been working on a case where we only had a fraction of the pieces. The only person who knew every part of it and could end this once and for all had left, but when she came back, it ended, and now we could just breathe again. We had our family back. That had to count for something.

When I saw Jessica arrive in the elevator, I met her there so that I could still surprise Hotch and Prentiss. “Thank you for bringing her,” I said while crouching down in front of the stroller to see my lil’ bug. She was half awake, but just lucid enough to play with my finger as I wiggled it in her face. “I owe you.”

“It’s no big deal, I swear. I was on my way to pick up Jack from a playdate, and this was on the way, anyhow.”

I glanced up at Jessica. “We can pick him up later. You don’t have to race around for us like this.”

Jessica smiled lightly. “What else am I going to do?”

I stopped to think about that for a moment, considering how we were her only family around now that Haley was gone, and Roy was… Well, Roy didn’t like having Jessica around because she was a very hands-on and task-oriented person when it came to family, and he didn’t like how overbearing and protective she was of him. So, we were the only ones that were around and in need of help. I just felt bad sometimes because it felt like she was our nanny or something. Then again, every time this conversation came up where I would tell her that all of this was unnecessary and that I felt bad, she would always argue that she loved doing it and that it was no big deal. If it really were a problem, she would have ditched us months ago.

“Okay,” I gave in. “We’ll see you at home, then.” I stood to hug her.

“See you at home.”

When we parted, she leaned over to say goodbye to baby Emily quickly, then waved to me as she walked towards the elevator. I waved back shortly before pushing the stroller up the ramp towards the boardroom. Inside, I could see and hear everyone chatting and catching up with one another. Rossi was hogging Aaron. He was so happy to have his buddy back after all this time, but he was still trying to convince him to shave the beard. Over my dead body. I loved that beard, and after everything that man put me through today, I was going to get the chance to scratch my fingers through it as he fucked me. Come hell or high water, I was going to make that happen.

I pushed the stroller into the room, and everyone fell silent. This was the first time Hotch had seen her in… months, and this was the first time Prentiss was going to meet her. Everyone wanted to be witness to it, and no one wanted to disrupt the moment. So, when I spun the stroller around, everyone held their breaths. I tried to ignore them as I pulled the top of stroller back to reveal Emily.

“May I hold her?” Prentiss asked, looking up at me with the brightest smile I had ever seen from her before. I nodded. Prentiss reached into the stroller, buried her hands under Emily, and lifted her up. “Hi, there, baby girl…” Prentiss cooed. Emily kicked and fussed in Prentiss’s arms.

As I watched Prentiss rock Emily side to side in her arms, I felt someone’s arms snake around my waist and pull me backwards into a hug. I smiled and rested my head on Hotch’s shoulder. His beard scratched my cheek slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss against it. I giggled and nuzzled into his touch as much as I could while thinking about how I missed this feeling so bad every single second he was away from me. All those rules we had for so long before he left didn't matter anymore. Not when he had been away and all we wanted was to hold each other and love each other.

“She has your eyes, Hotch,” Prentiss said while Emily giggled. “Yes, you do,” Prentiss teased with the same kind of baby-talk voice everyone used around kids. “You are just too darn cute.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in my ear before kissing me.

“I’m still mad at you, Aaron,” I whispered only for him to hear. He loosened his grip on me somewhat. “And I don’t know when I’ll stop being mad.” He hid his face in the crook of my neck to hide his disappointment from everyone else. “But I know that I love you, and that, with time, I’ll learn to forgive and forget about this. Until then, I just need you to bear with me while I navigate rebuilding what trust I had given you, and asking you to give me answers, or asking that you give me some space—whatever it is, I just need you to understand. Can you do that?”

He nodded against me.

“We’re going to be okay,” I sighed, almost like I was trying to convince myself, too. “We’re going to be okay…”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

#malex #malex fic #three strikes - the tentative cheesy baseball title #send me home - the real title

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daddy-daichis · 3 years

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Yesterday the very beautiful and talented @fuwari-s tagged me in this game and since that post is already really long i figured id make a new one lol (Also thank you for tagging me, it made me so happy)

The Game: Tag your 2D lovers + the other trend I saw yesterday and wanted to do which is Would you actually date them IRL. So ill put that under the cut because it is a lot.

HQ: Atsumu, Daichi, Issei, Bokuto, Hinata, and Kyoutani

BNHA: Bakugou, Denki, and Hawks

JJK: Sukuna and Mei Mei

Others: Kagami from KNB, Levi and Jean from AOT, and Mikoto Suoh from K

So if you want to know if i would date them irl that is below the cut lol

As for tagging... if you want to do it :) @eijirosriot @bokutosnumberonefan @hinosreis @tetsus-kitten @sugawarakoushihoe @mynameisjackattack and anyone else who wants to do one or both of these challenges.

Alright so would i date these men (+ mei mei) in real life. Short answer is yes lmao. Long answer, with some headcanons that may or may not venture into 18+ category but only slightly. all aged up to be my age which is 26.

Atsumu - PLEASE, YES

we would be so chaotic together but he would also be really loving. As long as he can still prioritize me in a relationship, not over volleyball, just as much, then we will be golden. We would have such a good time and i feel like we would have a lot of fun bickering, which i really enjoy. Play fighting as a form of foreplay, if you will lmao. We’d probs be friends in HS and then get together after he starts playing for MSBY and he is secured in his position (and himself tbh). I just love this cocky bastard. he also gives me switch vibes and as a switch, i love that for me.

Daichi - YES

All i need is to be wrapped in his arms on the daily and i would be happy. Man would know how to take care of me and that is all. Love of my life, too good for this world. Wholesome husband. He would be able to manage my crazy side and chill me out when i get to anxious. I would want to be bratty just to get him to drop his good guy routine sometimes and I feel like he would like that.

Issei - YES

Funeral home employee can get it. Matsukawa Horse cock Issei can whisk me off my feet and straight into bed. we would have a lot of fun picking on oikawa together (out of love of course) but we would balance each other out a lot. His darker humor would go well against my lighter humor. Also I feel like our level of hotness is pretty comparable... like we aren't the prettiest in the friend group but still good (if that makes sense)

Bokuto - YES

Big ball of sunshine to light up my day, he would literally fuck the sad out of me every day I just know it. Like atsumu, as long as I am a priority to him itll work out. We also kind of have the same sad moods so I feel like we could either both just curl up on the couch together and watch a movie or bring the other out of a funk easily. I love this giant himbo so much.

Hinata - most likely yes

Pretty much the same reasons as bokuto but I feel like I would get drained of his energy faster, so he would def have to cuddle me more. For everyone else so far I can imagine being high school sweethearts, but with hinata i think he wouldnt settle down until later, or even start dating so it would probably be a lot of pining and watching him from the side lines for a while, which would be really hard tbh. but the way he would smile at me after a match would make it worth it so...

Kyoutani - Hard YES

I love a boy with anger issues, what can i say... (cough couch my irl husband with anger issues couch couch) I would love to be his weak spot and the one person he would go to to help him not feel angry anymore. I think that my fun personality would help him to unbox himself a bit. I just want to give him cuddles and a place to feel accepted. id also i KNOW hes a monster in bed...

Bakugou - FUCKING HARD YES, PLEASE

if he was real the things i would do to and for him... A lot like kyoutani i would want to give him a place where hes accepted, and a place where he is unconditionally loved. I would be able to handle his misguided anger and calm him down and give him space. I headcanon that hes very cuddly in private to just his S/O which is something that i love. I love his lil smirk and would do anything to get him to smirk at me. As long as he is able to set me as a priority it would work out, but that would be what he struggles with so it would be a thing we would have to talk about. But I also feel that once you say something about it he would check in with you because of course he has to be the best bf/husband. I feel like I could talk for hours about him so Ill just wrap it up by saying that I love me a passionate man who would probs be a lil possessive, and I would use that to my advantage.

Denki - GOD YES

I really do think that denki and I are soulmates. we are both the perfect blend of funny, pervy, while still being soft. I feel like there would be a lot of mutual pining at first but he would end up the golden retriever gamer boy to my alt bisexual and thats just the perfect pairing. We would pull so much shit and then get away with it because thats just us being us. I see us being scolded by bakugou a lot for the stupid shit we would pull. Also late night drives in his shitty tuned car to taco bell while we sing alt rock songs from the 2010s. also the switch vibes are immaculate.

Hawks - Probably

So it would honestly depend a lot on what version of hawks.. him in the hero commission is a no, because he wouldnt be able to be honest with me about a lot of stuff. Like his name, or when i can see him again, and that would give me too much anxiety. When hes free of them and is actually allowed to be himself I think it could work then. I know that he of course wants to still be the best hero, so he would have the same problems as bakugou with finding a balance, but if he wants to i think he could. He would also have a lot of trauma from his relationship with his parents and the commission so I dont know if he would be able to give his love away as freely as he wants so we could get therapy together. I love that for us. But i would happily wake up next to this beautiful birb man if he would have me.

Sukuna - A hesitant yes

so.. the anger issues that ive mentioned before.. yes. I would like sukuna. I would be his lil bride and sit on his lap on his throne as long as he didnt kill my loved ones or my cats lmao. I would also be ok with being his and itadoris gf while hes living in itadoris head. being with him is just asking for an unhappy ending tho, whether its a life always on the run, or someones trying to kill me, or someones trying to kill him, or hes trying to kill someone. But yes i would like to be with him but that would mean sacrificing a lot.

Mei Mei - god yessssss..

Please Mei Mei step on me and make me ur lil house wife. I see us living in a pent house apartment with the most breathtaking view of the Tokyo skyline. I would want for nothing and she could take me where ever she wanted and i would just follow her around with heart eyes.

Kagami - YES

my basketball husband! i love him and would love to be loved by him. Id follow him wherever. He would take care of me and is just so dreamy.. also i guess the mild anger issues.. but hes really not that bad. He would just be such a good s/o. He would cook us nice dinners, wed have a few cats, and he would carry me around a lot because hes so strong. While were on the topic of strong... his stamina... everyone on this list probably has good if not great stamina... but kagami just hits different..... have you seen him in the zone? have you seen his thighs? his sex zone has got to be incredible.

Levi - Yes

I was going to say it depends, but really it doesn't... if were in the aot universe and hes my captain and I fall in love with him u can bet ur ass im gonna try and get with him because i could die at anytime. if its some au where he is here in our universe and somehow we meet... like of course im gonna be in love with him. our height difference isnt too bad, im only like an inch or 2 taller than him. I think we would both have a great time together. I would make him laugh, and he would help me clean, because lord knows I hate cleaning. BUT i hate cleaning because its something that I always have to do alone, and I feel like levi would have us be cleaning together like he makes the scouts do. and hes just so sexy...

Jean - big yes

This beautiful handsome man... idk what to even say about him. Hes strong, funny, handsome, cocky, but very much full of love. would love to run away from the world with him. I feel like if he was in love with me before *tries not to give away spoilers* the marco incident (?) that after he would become very clingy and attached and im ok with that. There would have to be lots of cuddles and reassurances and i just want to see him happy and not at war, with both real life people and himself... id give him the best kisses and he would become addicted to them.

Mikoto - No? But maybe...

I feel like we could be.. but if you watched the show then you know.. But i would love to be Homra’s princess TBH. No one would mess with me or they would have to face the wrath of my big fire boyfriend and his whole ass gang. But on the other hand I feel like Mikoto wouldnt allow himself to fall in love, so it would probably be a hush hush topic. everyone knows the boss and I are in an entanglement, but they cant talk about it. Then Anna starts asking questions to Mikoto and he has to come clean to her, which would be so cute. He tells her is a secret but she doesn't care lmao. in conclusion, I would want to, but I dont think he would let me.... Maybe friends with benefits tho....

............................................................................................

ok if you read all this im officially in love with you. Please take my heart.

This took me like 2 hours to do because I love thinking about it so much. if you have any thoughts about any of this hop into my dms or comment on this because id love to hear them (especially if you think i belong with one more than the others lmao).

#i cant believe i spent 2 hours on this.#im just so in love with 2d characters #about me

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ffixaticns · 3 years

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* jessica alexander, ciswoman + she/her | you know scout rothschild, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a year? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to invitation by ashnikko like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole born with a silver spoon in her foul mouth, hiding bruised knuckles under fingerless gloves, tireless nights spent dancing on pointe until her toes bleed & her ankles feel so brittle they could snap thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 2nd, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

HEYO !! i’m gray & this is my babe scout ; first time playing her as jessica but !! i love her and she rly fits her vibe well i think. let’s cross our fingers together that i don’t make this intro too long okay .. yknow what let’s just hold hands. bc it probably will be for no reason bc i ramble too much haha ANYWAYS ... here we go

TW: drugs, abuse / neglect, eating disorder

born and raised in nyc ... v rich , v spoiled. her mother was a prima ballerina when she fell for one of her choreographers , and of course they were stupid and reckless so it wasn’t too long until scout came along. her mom was PISSED bc it nearly ended her career, but she was determined. two weeks after having her, she was working her ass off to lose the little baby weight she’d gained ( she was tiny af to begin with so she didn’t get v big ) she didn’t breast feed bc she didn’t want her boobs to be swollen for the next year lmao

so she was pretty much raised by a nanny !! until she was old enough to go to the studio with her parents. she loved watching them dance. it wasn’t long after her first steps before she started following in their footsteps. still, when her parents had to do a tour or various shows in a row, she would be at home with the nanny.

as soon as she was old enough, she was enrolled into ballet classes. she loved it and thought she was doing well, but her mother wasn’t quite so impressed with the training she was receiving. it wasn’t easy for her, but she decided it was time to hang her ballet shoes up and start on a new venture -- so she bought the school that scout was going to, so that she could make sure that she was getting the BEST possible training. from then on, she was pushed every day to reach her ‘full potential’.

she was always at the top of her class, she made sure of it. she wanted more than anything to make her mother proud. she never told her that she was, but by the time she was ten years old she knew what pride looked like on her mother’s face. that was good enough for her.

her parents often fought about how hard she pushed their daughter, her father disagreeing with a lot of things, arguing that she needed to start doing normal childhood things instead of focusing every waking moment on dancing. he never won -- scout refused to be a ‘normal’ child. all she wanted to do was dance. this went on well into her teenage years, always striving to be the best of the best. just like her mother was. she did whatever she had to do to stay on top, whether it be putting laxatives in her competition’s water bottle on audition day or not eating for a few days at a time to lose a few pounds. her mother didn’t bat an eye. she’d been through the same thing, for her it seemed completely normal and unproblematic. in fact, she would encourage it at times.

her relationship with her mother, as well as her relationship with dancing, was an extremely unhealthy one. the only person who could reasonably see it was her father. which is why at 21, he decided that he’d had enough and would send her away to a small town, somewhere that she could take a break from dancing and maybe find herself outside of that world. little did he know, sending her to irving would do just the opposite, as one of scout’s ballet idols now resided there ( @ambitcxious ). she was still pissed about being sent away, but at least it wouldn’t be the WORST thing in the world...

SO FAST FORWARD ; she’s been in irving for a year, and surprise, she’s still dancing ! now as addie’s little protégé, she couldn’t be happier. there’s still pressure on her to be the best she can be, but at least it’s not her mother. she’s actually able to let loose in her free time, unlike back home when she was restricted from doing anything that might distract her.

since being here, she’s probably had first times for ... so many things. ( ie getting drunk, getting high, eating whatever she wants, going out with friends, uhhhh ... sex lmao )

sooo ya girl has a LOT of pent up aggression ... especially when she first got here. one night she was at the bar and got into a fuckin’ BRAWL with some bitch & let’s just say there was no competition... after she was thrown tf out, someone approached her about joining a little underground fighting ring. told her she’d be perfect for it ... and who was she to disagree ? she’s perfect for most things, after all ~ ( potential WC ?! )

her parents send her money every 2 weeks, but still encouraged her to get a job to be more ~ independent ~ and they only send her enough really for essentials ... she gets paid to fight as long as she wins, but her cover for her parents is that she got a job at cutie pie’s diner :) sounds quite nice, keeps them from being suspicious when they call her for updates !

( tw: drugs/alcohol ) loves to get drunk and smoke weed preferably at the same time ,, dabbles with some ecstasy n molly when she feels like really letting go .. tends to stay away from coke for the most part ? she’s already kind of high strung so she doesn’t like the way it makes her feel

obviously likes to try new things !! like .. pretty much anyone could go up to her n be like ‘yo u wanna go do this?’ she’d be like ??? hell yea let’s go

will absolutely start a fight for no god damn reason ...

chaotic bisexual

THERES MORE BUT MY BRAIN IS MELTING SO IM ENDING IT

please feel free to slide into these DMs if you want to plot or like this and i’ll slide into urs either here or on disco !!

#irvingintro

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XXIII. Locura Transitoria

Preview:

“You’re closer.”

“What?”

“You’re right on the other side. You were standing farther away before.”

Yes, I am. I hate it but he’s like a magnet. I shut my eyes and press my fingers against them. My chest is tightening and I don’t know why the hell it is so hard to be this close and this far away from him or to let this all thing go. What I’ve always hated the most is not knowing.

I remember when I started watching Dark, a fucking hard-to-understand German tv show, and I would even have nightmares. Not understanding brings me a lot of anxiety. I like to know why things happen, to fully grasp the essence of things, but with Harry I can’t seem to do that. I don’t know why it’s so easy for him to crash my heart with his bare hands.

Had it been any other person, I would have just ignored them without a second thought. I’d be now watching a movie on my bed and they would get bored and leave but seeing Harry like this, or hearing him like this, it’s breaking my heart and I hate it. He deserves to feel like this but I don’t like seeing it.

He's not saying anything and a sudden panic takes the best of me. What if he gets bored? What if he doesn’t harass me anymore like I said he’s doing? This is bad, this is nearly toxic but damn it, I don’t want him to pull away.

“Indie…”

Don’t call me that.

“Indie, don’t hate me.”

^^^^Every other part, can be found here

BLUE’S POV

I let the water run a little too long before I fully wake up and close the tap. I get the toothbrush on my mouth and set my eyes on the white marble of my old bathroom. I was planning on going back home earlier after my nightmare because the entire day was off after that. I think Jason thought I was sad about Harry and if I thought about him, I was sad about that too but it was a different kind of sad.

This house is suffocating me. Every memory that it brings, everything I haven’t had the heart yet to face, everything that I try so hard to supress like a dam holding a river back is clouding over my head and pulling me down and I feel like I need to get away from here before all this shit wins.

But Dad did have the surgery. We did not have time to even go to the hospital and talk to the doctors about what Harry and professor Gibbins had said. The very same night I talked to them, I told Dad about it and we agreed we’d go to the hospital in the morning and I would talk to his doctor myself but when I woke up he told me he had gotten a call from the hospital and he had the surgery the following day.

I had no idea Harry or doctor Gibbins had that much to say at Capitol Hospital but I would have to be stupid not to know some calls must have been made. I texted doctor Gibbins a thank you note and ask him to pass it on to Harry, which I guess it’s childish but I can’t believe he would use my dad’s health issue to win my forgiveness over.

Also, I don’t know why it feels so wrong to think about Harry now. It gets harder to breathe and I look at myself in the mirror. I stare into the eyes of the brunette girl that stares at me but it’s hard to see me in her. It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I know who I used to be. I know who I was when I was Dylan and I know who I was after that but… It’s just too painful to say that I liked this other girl better.

It’s annoying and unfair and probably unhealthy to think that a man can have such an impact. I hate to think that I’m someone different now than I was the last time I was here thanks to a man and it’s even more painful because that man is going to ruin his life just like Dylan did.

I spit the toothpaste and wash my mouth and my face when I realize I’m crying. If only I could just talk to Dylan once. Fuck, how I wish that he would just come down this once so I could talk to him about all of this. I’m sure he’d know what to say and he’d call me Indie again. But I’d never hear him saying that ever again.

I close the tap again and walk out of the bathroom bumping into Jason as soon as I walk outside.

“Hey there.” Jason smiles. “How are you today?”

“I’m good.” I lie. “I feel so bad that we ruin your Christmas. I mean, aortic dissection, girls crying on your shoulder, having nightmares by your side…”

“It’s cheaper than the movies.” He jokes and I chuckle. “And seriously I’m just glad I’m here to be with you.”

“With me or with Rio?”

“Rio is a bonus. I won’t deny that.”

I chuckle and make my way towards my room to get ready. We’re leaving today for Coco needs to be in Grad for some group project she needs to present right after Christmas.

Rio really liked Jason too. Granted, they already knew each other but I think this week sharing roof has brought them closer together. Rio tried to convince me that Jason was a good guy because, even though he was insisting on how good he was at sensing this kind of things, he apparently was so sure JJ actually liked me. I almost tell him Jason would have him over me any day, but it’s not my place to say something like that, of course.

I fold my clothes on my bed before I put them inside my suitcase and give a smile to Coco as she makes her way inside my room.

“Jason and I saw Elena yesterday.” Coco smiles.

Elena is the lady of the book store in town. Coco and I didn’t really went to town before I met Dylan but after that, we were kind of done with going downtown and we started loving just staying in the suburbs. It was very cosy and people were really nice.

“She asked me about you.”

I give my sister a smile but look back at my clothes. She took Jason to town yesterday to show him around while I was at the hospital with my Dad. I’ve always gone to town a bunch of times after Dylan passed away because everything reminds me of him there and it’s just almost impossible for me to walk down the streets without seeing him sitting on some café or coming out of show with his football jersey. A bunch of times are one too many.

“How is she?”

“She’s good, very old though.” Coco’s eyes widen and I laugh. “Everything is just the same.”

Which only makes it worse for me. Or maybe not. I like to think that our town in Capitol is not going to change because in a way it feels like it’s respecting Dylan. Like time is going to pass for everybody but our town and me, we’re always gonna be what we were for him. That kind of keeps him alive in a way.

“There’s…” Coco stops and when I look at her, I can see she’s considering whether she can tell me this or not. “Amalia’s got blueberry muffins called Indie Blue.”

I take a deep breath. I didn’t get to talk to Dylan’s mum. I just couldn’t bring myself to. I dialled her number a dozen of times but never actually pressed the call button. I guess I was running before myself when I thought I could do it. And anyway, it’s been a crazy week as it is.

“Did you go in?”

Coco nods and holds my gaze with an understanding one.

“She was very happy to see us and send her greetings. I told her you’ve been meaning to chat with her and she understands.”

“She always does.”

Coco nods.

“Anyway” her tone lightens up and she claps her hands together “I just came over to check if you were ready to leave and to tell you I’ve thought about stopping at the hospital before we actually leave so we can say bye to Dad.”

“Right, yeah, I was counting on that.”

“Sure.” She smiles. “Gonna go get JJ.”

“Cool.”

I keep my charger and my headphones on my bag and leave my old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird on my shelf. I know that book by heart but never get tired of Scout’s mind. Grabbing my phone, I see I have some other texts from Harry and start to feel a little guilty for ignoring him but still don’t answer. I still have some more important matters at hand. I dial Amalia’s phone number again but instead of calling, I decide a text would do for now.

To Amalia:

Hi, this is Indie. My sister told me about the Indie Blue muffins and about the greetings, thank you. I’ve been meaning to call you all week, maybe we could see each other and catch up over an Indie Blue muffin next time I’m in Capitol?

I’m very sorry I didn’t pass by the café, I’m not pretty good at coming back home, I guess… But anyway, it’s always nice to hear from you. I hope you and Robert are fine.

Lots of love, Indie. X

Harry: It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but I was just wondering how your dad’s doing.

Harry: Also you. How are you?

Harry: I can’t wait to see you.

Harry: If you ever want to.

Not answering him is childish and stupid but I just don’t know what to do about him yet and I need to at least have a clue if I want to answer for I need to know if I wanna be all blunt or rather forgiving so instead I just keep my phone in my bag and make my way downstairs.

“Okay, everyone’s ready?” Coco’s at the door and has got the car keys on her hand.

I nod and follow JJ outside and towards the car. We talk about how we’re gonna miss Dad’s baking back in Grad and Jason says he’s gonna miss Dad’s best culinary work, Rio, more than anything else.

“How great would it be that Rio was gay?” He wishes as Coco pulls over at the hospital parking lot.

“He’s not.” I remind him.

“But how great would it be? Not even gay, just bisexual. I’m happy with bisexual.”

“I don’t think he’s bisexual either.”

“Aren’t we all though?” He raises his eyebrows and gives me a look.

“I really don’t think so.” Coco laughs.

“Oh, you just haven’t opened that door yet, baby.”

He makes a point at opening the door of the car and then when his feet are on the pavement, he turns his body back so his head is inside the car and both Coco and I stop our movement to watch him.

“But let me tell you- that road is only one way; there’s no going back.”

“You sound like a sect leader.”

I open the door and get outside and would have heard Coco’s laughter if she made any sound.

“I’m pretty sure that’s highly homophobic.”

“Barely.” I shake my head.

The three of us walk inside the hospital with the promise of mentioning nothing to Rio. Jason’s crazy if he thinks either Coco or I would do that but we still have to swear it. Rio’s dark eyebrows raise on his forehead when he sees us walking towards Dad’s room.

“Hey, sisters.”

“You didn’t think we were going to leave without saying goodbye to old papa, right?”

“I was indeed. Lost a bet though. Dad said you’d come say bye.”

Coco wiggles her eyebrows at him before the two of us walk inside the room. Claiming to give us some privacy with Dad, JJ stays outside talking to our brother and I just roll my eyes at him.

“Do you think Rio hasn’t noticed?”

“He talked to me a couple of nights ago and thought he was revealing a top secret when he said he was pretty sure Jason was into me.”

Coco starts laughing hysterically and my dad smiles at both of us.

“How great would it be if Rio was gay though?”

Both Coco and I look at my dad with eyes wide opened before we look at each other and laugh.

“There are too many women in the Andersons.” Dad jokes.

“You love us.”

“Like crazy.” He smiles.

“How are you? How are the stitches?”

“I’m fine and the stitches are too. Rio and I have been making up stories for my scar. I think I’m gonna tell I was scuba diving and a manta ray cut through my chest with its sting.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be dead if that was the case.” I break up to him and he just rolls his eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, birds.”

“We’re gonna miss you too, Dad.”

Coco lies on his bed and carefully rests her head on his arm and my dad gives me a loving smile, much like the ones he used to give me when I was little and Rio and I had fought.

“Are you gonna talk to Harry?”

“Who even told you his name?” I frowned.

Coco chuckles but shrugs and I know I can trust her.

“Your mum did.”

“What? That woman!”

“She feels like she has to. You guys live with her so I miss out on a lot. I tell her about Rio’s dates too.”

“You guys are the nosiest divorced parents I have ever seen.”

He smirks and shrugs.

“I know my opinion doesn’t really count-”

“Of course it counts.” I interrupt him. “It always has.”

“I’m a very wise man, that’s true.” He nods, agreeing with me. “But I don’t know what happened with the guy and if he’s not respecting you he should be in prison but your mum says you were happy.” He shrugs. “And I want you to be happy. Anyway, it’s your call. I trust you, Berry.”

“He’s no one.” I shake my head. “I still love Dylan.”

“No one’s doubting that.” My dad frowns. “But you’ll always love Dylan. That doesn’t necessarily mean you have to be alone forever, Berry.”

Then what does it mean? I frown and take a deep breath and then my Dad starts giving love advises to Coco too. I think the painkillers are turning him into a mushy version of Hitch.

We say our goodbye after some more love power speech on his part and then Jason walks in to say goodbye and thank my Dad for his hospitality even despite his illness. My friend promises he’ll be back on his way out and after hugging Rio, the three of us make our way back to the car.

Mum’s on the kitchen when Coco and I get back. She only went to Spain for five days this time. Over some homemade biscuits, we tell her pretty much everything about our week with dad, saving the bits about the love advises for Coco even though we’re not fully trusting Dad either on keeping Guido a secret from Mum.

I don’t realize the time that passes by until Mum gets a call and Coco runs upstairs.

“There’s something for you on your desk.” Mum says walking outside of the kitchen with her phone already against her ear. “A very handsome, very regretful delivery man brought it over.”

My jaw clenches. Oh, no, no, no. I basically run upstairs to my room. Huffing and puffing, I reach my desk and open the cardboard box on it. They are notes and books and manuals about Medicine. There’s Paediatric Psychiatry, Preventive Care, Forensics, Cardiology, Abdominal Surgery, Emergency…

Still with the books on my hand and after having taken some deep breaths, I dial Harry’s number. He picks up on the first tone.

“Hi.”

“Did you come over to my house while I was away?”

He doesn’t say anything and I can’t hear any background noise. He must be in the library or alone in his room. Maybe he’s peacefully smoking weed.

“I wanted to leave the notes on your porch but your mum saw me and opened the door for me.”

“And you just came in inside?”

“It would have been rude not to.”

“You could have told her that you smoke weed. I guarantee she would have not invited you in then.”

He sighs on the other end.

“Why did you anyway? I didn’t even ask you for these stupid notes.”

“I knew it’d get you mad.”

“And why in the world would you want to get me mad?”

“So you would talk to me.”

And it worked. I take a deep breath and relax my own hand. I hadn’t realized it was on a fist but Harry seems to have develop a new talent at making me furious. And I’m furious because he’s already softening me. His voice doesn’t sound teasing or amused but desperate and that’s turning me into a weak mushy teddy bear. This manipulative behaviour is not what I signed up for.

“You can come pick them up. I’ll leave them on the door.”

My mum tries to stop me as I struggle with the fucking heavy box downstairs but I just warn both her and Coco that no one is opening the door for Harry in this household. Coco nods and Mum frowns but before she can ask me and I can scold her for telling dad, Coco takes her to the kitchen with the promise that she would explain. I don’t care what she tells her anymore.

Not twenty minutes later though, they’re calling for me downstairs. They’re going Christmas shopping. I’d have to get paid, lots of money, to go out in this winter weather and get inside a crowded store with capitalist people buying things they don’t need for people they don’t love.

When have I turned into the Grinch?

The bell rings. I feel like a crazy person, sitting on the last steps of our staircase and staring at the door. But I don’t move at all. The bell rings again and through the silence of my empty house, I hear Harry cursing on the other side of the door at my lack of response.

“Indie, please, I made it all the way here. Can you please just open the door?”

I don’t move, I don’t make a sound. I think he’ll finally think I’m not home if I don’t answer. But then my phone rings and it’s not on silence mode and fuck my plan.

“Come on, Indie. Don’t act like a baby.”

“You’re the one who keeps harassing me.”

I stand up and walk closer to the closed door.

“I just want us to talk like adults.”

“You’re more like a teenager.”

I hear him sigh through the door and only then realize how close I am standing now.

“About that. I want to talk about that, baby. Come on, open the door.”

“How many times did you come over to my house?”

“Two.” He confesses. See the problem is, I don’t know whether I can believe him now. “I came over the first day I texted you so we could talk but you weren’t home and then I came over to give you the notes. I’m not taking them back with me, just so you know. They’re for you.”

“I don’t want them.” I fight. “And how did you know I was with my dad?”

Seconds of silence pass and I’m afraid he’s just grown tired and left. I tiptoe to the door and hold my breath as I look through the peephole. I can only see half of his chest, his right shoulder and a tangled mess of curls as he looks down at his feet. God, I’ve missed him.

“Adam told me.”

I feel the anger claiming its place back on my body. My throat tightens and my fists clench again. I can’t believe him. He’s as nosy as Harry is and the worst thing is, he’s learnt this from Marie. I want to tell her, that he might have been fucking using her like a source of info, playing the journalist with her, and I want to know everything she’s told him too.

“What is he, your secret agent? I can’t believe you would threaten me and Marie and it was just because you thought we were as low as you two. How can you be so cruel?”

“Adam likes Marie.” He stops me there. “Don’t call that into question because of me. I’ll admit I’ve taken advantage of it but don’t throw Adam into this.”

“Is that why he texted her? So you could know my whereabouts?”

“No, of course not! He was dying to talk to her. I just encouraged him to do so a little.”

“And you dare to try to take credit? You’re a maniac.”

“Can you just open the door, Indie? This is ridiculous.” He sounds tired.

“What in the world makes you think I want to listen to anything it is you think you have to say?”

His silence proves me right. He doesn’t know how to answer that because there is no reason for me to listen to him. Even if the base of our relationship was just sexual, he’s always claimed not to lie so he should have told me, especially after learning about Dylan, that he had a car accident too. I am not quite sure why that would change things, I don’t even think it would have, but it’s the fucking lie. I feel like he was just making fun of me while fucking me when he felt like it.

Plus, the weed. It’s plain painful to try to decipher out of all the times we’ve been together when he was high and when he wasn’t.

I get it then. That time he came looking for me to the club and I thought he was suffering an anxiety attack. I rest my back against the door. It wasn’t anxiety, it was drugs, or the lack of them.

“You’re closer.”

“What?”

“You’re right on the other side. You were standing farther away before.”

“Indie…”

Don’t call me that.

“Indie, don’t hate me.”

A single tear rolls down my cheek. I feel like I’m choking but this time it’s not because I don’t understand. This time it’s fear. It’s fear because I know perfectly well what I’m feeling.

My phone rings again but I still rest my back against the door. For all I know it might be him too. It rings again.

“Stop calling me.” I whisper.

“It’s not me.”

My dad. I all but jump from the door and climb the stairs like a mad woman. When I get there, I see Marie’s name on the screen though. I pick up still puffing.

“Hi.”

“Eh… Hi! Are you… Were you busy?”

“No” I decide “I just came running upstairs. I thought it could be my dad.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry about that. How is he, by the way?”

“He’s fine. Rio’s taking good care of him.”

“Nice. You know you can talk to any of us if you need anything.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Uh, not much.” I can hear her smile through the phone. “I just missed you, really and… Adam’s over for tea so I was just wondering if you’d like to join us and have a cuppa or something so we could catch up. Ollie’s still in France so the house is a little lonely.”

I stay quiet for a while but then I shut my eyes and agree to go. I can feel my social anxiety making its way back to me and I can’t let it win. It’s okay to force yourself to go out sometime, I can almost hear doctor Mackenzie talking in my head, but remember ´normal´ is just statistics.

I make my way downstairs but Harry’s gone. I open the door anyway, stupidly hoping he’s sitting down on the swing Coco insisted on setting on the porch. She said our chances of finding a Noah of our own were bigger if we had a swing on the porch.

He’s nowhere to be found but the cardboard box with his notes is still where I left it. I take it inside, with this cold humid weather I’m sure the sheets would bend and I hate when that happens.

I play with my phone between my hands. Should I text him? No, I shouldn’t. I came so far as not opening the door for him, why would I text him now? To say what? He’s not texting me either. I hope nothing’s wrong. What do I mean I hope nothing’s wrong? Everything is wrong! He lied to me and then he took advantage of my friend to learn my whereabouts when I clearly did not want him to know them.

Even the hall already smells like cinnamon and chocolate when she opens the door. She wears a grey woollen dress and her legs are covered under black and white polka dots tights. Her hair is up on a bun that makes her look like some sort of sugar fairy.

“I love your outfit.” I tell her.

“Thank you. I can get carried away at Christmas, everyone’s too happy to criticize you.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle.

“I wish you wouldn’t care about other people’s opinion during other times of the year too.”

She stares into my eyes and smiles.

“One step at a time, Indie.”

I snort a laugh and walk inside as she moves aside. Michael Bublé’s Christmas playlist wraps around us and I entertain my eyes with the little Christmas decorations she’s set on the apartment. It’s no more than an stuffed Elf, a teddy of Winnie The Pooh dressed up as Santa and some Christmas balls and lights on the house plant they have on their living room.

“Hey there, Indie.” Adams gives me an apologetic smile.

Did Harry already told him I know that he was the one feeding him my personal info? Why do the two of them act like mean girls? I decide, for Marie’s sake, not to give him a hard time over this. He’s Harry’s friend and he chose his side. I can respect that. I just won’t trust him but hey, he got himself there.

“Hi, Adam. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” He grins. “How are you?”

“Good.” Been better.

“Santa left something for you under the tree.” Marie’s voice ends the small talk.

I roll my eyes before I see it. There’s a little something wrapped on Christmas themed paper right on the ficus pot. I give her a reprimanding look but she just shrugs and smiles.

“He didn’t have to.”

I bend over to pick it up and open it effortlessly. She’s terrible at wrapping shit. It’s a red lipstick from Dior.

“It literally costed him nothing.” She defends herself.

“Thank you.”

She smiles and has a sip of her hot chocolate and I keep the lipstick on my bag before I take a seat on the living room table. There are homemade cinnamon rolls and cookies on it and Adam just placed a cup of hot chocolate before me.

“Thank you.”

He nods and takes a seat himself, leaving Marie the chair next to me. We talk about my Dad and about their Christmas and I find myself laughing along with Adam quite a lot. His sense of humour reminds of Harry’s and I feel a flash of pain on my chest when I imagine how this evening snack would go if he was here. I wonder whether he’d share about his Christmas dinner with us too or whether he would just stay quiet and mess with us.

I see Adam standing up from the table and walking towards the kitchen, bringing his phone to his ear and then I get out of a trance I didn’t know I was in.

“Are you okay, Indie?”

“Yes.” I nod. “Yes, I was just… Out of it… For some reason.”

A few seconds of silence follow and I can hear Adam’s muffled voice as he calmly speaks on the phone in the kitchen. His voice is very deep too, even though it’s not as calming as Harry’s.

“Are we okay?”

I frown staring at her.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t know… I’ve been stressing myself out a little, to be honest.”

“What about?”

“Well… You know after what happened with Harry and all that… I’ve been texting Adam and… We went on a date a couple days ago… I was just wondering… I mean if that makes you uncomfortable, I can stop seeing him.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, he’s Harry’s friend and I met him through you.” She shrugs. “Plus, I don’t know whether I can really trust him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… Harry did lie to you. Why would he be different? Maybe he does drugs too and I don’t want that in my life.”

I sigh.

“I can find out.” I shrug. “Or better, you could. Ask him.”

Her brown eyes set into mine. I don’t like this. I don’t want Marie to throw this away because of me and I don’t want to be weak enough so that my friends have to be careful with their own relationships so as not to hurt me. I am not like that. Have I seriously become so selfish?

“Adam seems like a nice guy, Marie.” I shrug. I reckon this is the time to tell her. “Although… Harry confessed to me that he had known I was at my Dad’s through Adam.”

“I know.” She looks remorseful. “Adam told me.”

I feel made fun of all over again.

“I… We were on the phone and we ended up talking about Harry and you and… He talked to me about Harry, like pretty real shit, so I trusted him that I could do the same. He asked me whether he could tell Harry you were at your Dad’s.”

“And you said yes?”

Now, I wasn’t expecting this. I feel like I want to cry. It’s three on one?

“Jason said you were pretty sad.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I think you still are, Indie.”

“I am not.”

Marie stays quiet. She looks down at the cookie plate and I know she’s waiting for me to calm down. Sometimes she acts like a teacher, like one of those who just stand still in complete silence before a messy class until the students keep quiet on their own. I look away from her.

“Before you called, he was at my place.” I tell her. “Did you know that already?”

She shakes her head. She’s probably the last person I should talk about this with but she’s also the only one who’s here now. It’s weird how I feel- just because he did what I asked him to I feel like he’s given up on us. On us? It might be for the best because it was absurd, we wouldn’t have gotten around the corner, but… I guess part of me doesn’t want him to let go.

“I mean I didn’t let him in. I didn’t want to see him.” I lie. “But then he left and I didn’t want him to go.”

Marie frowns.

“Did you want him to just stay out there freezing?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t know what I want, Marie.”

She sighs.

“Oh, God. Do you like him? And by that I mean, do you have feelings for him?”

I sigh but stay quiet.

“You’re not in love with him, are you?” Her brown eyes widen.

“No!”

Only her could have gotten there. I am sad because I feel used and lied to and made fun of, not because I love him. She raises her eyebrows as if she was not convinced.

“You did see each other a lot… Like lovers…”

I munch on my cookie, thinking.

“Well, we sort of were, weren’t we?”

Her eyes widen and her eyebrows raise on her forehead as she stares into my thoughtful ones.

“A lover is someone who loves” She shrugs. “just like a singer is someone who sings.”

“That’s one definition…”

“What’s the other?”

I sigh. What is the other? What was Harry to me? Definitely not someone I loved…

“Well then we weren’t lovers.” I shake my head. “We were… We were…”

“Friends with benefits.” She offers.

Not quite.

“We were not really friends either…”

She smiles despite her furrowed lips and steals the other half of my cookie from my hand. I give her a begging gaze. I feel like I’m on therapy.

“Complicated, huh? I think it’s normal that you don’t want him to stop chasing you though.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we all like to be chased every now and then.” She smiles.

“You talked about this with Ollie and Jason, didn’t you?” I accuse.

She smiles and shrugs. I chuckle but don’t ask to know what they said.

“What did Adam tell you about Harry?”

“What he wants to tell you himself.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“I think you should let him tell you himself.”

“And what did you tell Adam about me? I think that I have the right to know.”

“I don’t have the right to tell your story, of course, but I explained to him why it was so terrible to you that Harry was high that night.”

I hide my face between my hands and grunt. I don’t want to keep doing this; talking about Harry, thinking about Dylan… It’s like nobody dares to say his name out loud and it feels terrible to think people have just gone on with their lives as if Dylan did never die, as if it was okay a world without him. I swallow and take a deep breath before I look back at Marie.

“You can tell him what you want to. I’m not ashamed of him.”

She frowns and her jaw clenches. At least she seems to be offended at my accusation.

“Neither am I. The reason I didn’t tell him was not embarrassment, Indie. I just felt like I would have been telling something you should have, if you ever wanted to.”

I hold her gaze and I decide to believe her when she doesn’t look away. Then I sigh again, because that’s all I seem to know how to do now and cover her hand with mine over the table.

“You can go out with whoever the fuck you want, Marie. Even if it was Harry himself, I wouldn’t have any right to tell you not to.”

“I would never go out with Harry.” She horrifies and I chuckle.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend.” We both laugh. “You’re smarter than that… But, seriously, I’m happy you’re happy and if Adam means happy then… He’s welcome to stay around as long as you want him to.”

As if on cue, he appears through the door but stands still looking at us with blue eyes wide opened.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No, we were just talking shit about you.” I joke.

He laughs and nods.

“Then nothing new.”

Marie’s grinning at him as he sits back down next to her. I imagine they did these cookies together. I imagine them baking, Adam getting Marie’s nose covered in flour, my friend giggling and pretending to be pissed at him. When he notices he’s being watched, he places his hand on her knee and she all but melts.

Marie’s phone rings and this time it’s her who gets up from the table.

“It’s Ollie.” She explains.

Bringing the phone to her ear, she walks towards her room. It seems to me that this is a set up. First, they call Adam so Marie and I could have a conversation and now they call her and I feel like he’s going to take advantage of it and ask me shit about her now.

“So how is your dad?”

“He’s fine but you already know that.”

“What?” He frowns.

I shake my head and look away, having a sip from my hot chocolate and expecting him to get I do not particularly want to talk. I am not mad at him. It wouldn’t make any sense to be mad at him. But I felt outnumbered. Harry has his own spy. All I get is Marie and her high standards.

“He’s truly sorry, you know.”

I glare at him.

“Don’t you have enough being his ears? Now you’re his voice too?”

He sighs and his lips set into a thin line.

“I’m sorry, Indie.” He shrugs. “But he’s my friend and… I just think he has the right to explain himself.”

“The right? Well, this isn’t a courthouse. And am I not the one who should decide that?”

“I guess yes.” His eyebrows raise on his forehead but he nods. “I’m just… I haven’t seen Harry like this in… Years.”

“I think he’s upset half the time and it has little to do with me.”

“I meant happy.”

I look up at him and find his eyes waiting for me to do that.

“You know, when I asked Marie about you, the first time-”

“You were taking advantage of her.” I accuse.

“Hardly.” He frowns. “I was more taking advantage of you, I mean of your situation… I used you as a pretext to start a conversation with her because I suck at this but besides that, I was also worried about you.”

“You don’t know me. Why would you worry about me?”

“You’re one of Marie’s best friends and you’re also friends with Harry. It’s hard for me not to care about the people my beloved ones care about.”

“I’m not friends with Harry.” I make clear.

“I think you are, at least to him you are, and he really needs one.”

“Why? He’s got you, doesn’t he? And you’ve proven to be extremely loyal.”

“Well, yeah, I’m his friend. Always have, always will. But he doesn’t have feelings for me.” He shrugs.

“He doesn’t have feelings for me either.” I frown.

“He cares about you.” He promises. “A lot.”

“I… Then why did he lie to me?”

“That’s exactly what he wants to tell you!”

I look away from him. I’m setting this on a silver platter for him to make a speech about how important would be for me to listen to Harry and his junkie’s excuses.

“Are you so scared to see him that you won’t even open the door for him?”

The way he patiently waits for my answer and how many things he’s shared about his family with us invite me to open up for some reason. It’s strange, but it’s happening to me the same thing that happen with Gemma. I guess there must be a connection between people who have been on car accidents. Even if I haven’t been on one, I’ve faced the consequences and somehow I feel as if we spoke our own language.

“What if I am?”

“God, you both are idiots.”

“Excuse me?”

“You like him and he likes you but here you are denying the obvious. I don’t get it.”

“This is very painful for me. Marie told me you already know what happened to Dylan. How can you not get that?”

He looks sorrowful and regretful but I don’t care. I’ve had enough of everybody’s insensitive asses thinking they can tell me how I feel and how I don’t.

“I looked up to him. I really did. I thought… He was this… Interesting, kind, intelligent man and finding out he did drugs was just… It’s so disappointing. It just… It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t square with the Harry I thought I knew so I guess I just don’t know him like I thought I did. And… After everything the fucking weed took away from me I… I think I’m entitled to feel this way. I’m entitled to be angry and sad and frustrated and I should hate him, but I can’t and that’s what I don’t understand.”

I am frowning, deeply, but my frown impossibly tightens when I think I hear him buffing a silent laugh.

“Did that seem funny to you?”

“Talk to him, Indie.”

I take a deep breath and look down at the table. I try my best to pay attention to the conversation despite my busy mind. It feels a little weird to be sitting in the table with these two. I feel like their kid or something.

Walking outside Marie’s apartment right before dinner, my shoulder bumps with one of her neighbours but when I look up, I recognize those green eyes and that mop of curly hair.

“Indie.”

“I was just leaving.”

But his hand wraps around my arm.

“Please.”

I stop on my tracks and look at him. The sooner I listen to him, the sooner he’ll leave me alone. Which is why I haven’t yet listened to him.

“Let me drive you home.”

“I was going to take an uber.”

His green eyes beg for a chance and I’m too tired to deny it. I sigh and purse my lips.

“Did Adam told you I was here?”

“Yes, but I didn’t come because of that. I wasn’t even going to go upstairs, I was just leaving Adam’s prescription on the mailbox. I was at the hospital and Marie’s apartment is pretty much on my way home.”

“Okay.”

I follow him towards his car and even though I don’t know him as well as I thought, I can tell he’s nervous. His shoulders are tensed and his jaw is clenched and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. I want to tell him it’s just me, but I think that’s what’s tensing him.

The drive is silence. He doesn’t say anything and I have nothing to say to him. When we arrived to my house, my sister’s car isn’t on the lane but the light on the porch is on so my Mum must be home.

“I’m listening.” I encourage him to begin as I sit still on the passenger’s seat.

“I was high because the more lorazepam I have, the more I have to take to be able to sleep so I really need to save those for sleeping and if I hadn’t had something on my system I couldn’t have stood seeing my sister turning 31 on a wheelchair because that’s my fault, Bl-Indie, and I know I should have told you. I just didn’t know how.” He sighs. “It’s… I didn’t want you to know that about me. It was nice not to be the guy who almost killed his sister and his best friend on a car crash when I was with you.”

“Were you high the night of the accident?”

My voice comes out as a whisper and I realize then how terrified I am of his answer.

“No.” He horrifies.

His green eyes have darkened and he looks like he’s the owner of regret, like he was some sort of mythological God for remorse and guilt and he was the dealer of it for human kind. It’s contagious, the sadness he’s holding back.

“I would never… No, God, no. I… I fell asleep.” He sighs.

I feel like a wall of sorrow is falling on top of me. It’s a wall I built myself too so with every brick there’s an amount of time of work I put into it. I’ve been trying to push him away and up until this moment, this invisible wall was between us, right on top of the gear, but now that it’s falling, it’s like I can really see him again.

I feel so unfair and the fact that I, out of all people, do this makes it even worse. How many times have I wished for people to stop acting as if they could ever understand what it feels like to lose the one you love over the night?

“We shared a car, Gemma and I.” He starts and I know what’s happening.

He’s uncorking himself. I wonder if he’s ever talked about this with someone and I feel all the pressure and the responsibility in the world to be a good listener for him. I want to do every little thing I wish my listeners would have done and I sure as hell don’t want to cry so I shift on my seat and I face him and I try to relax my position so he knows I’m comfortable and ready for an hour or two to pass if he needs to. He swallows.

“She was driving that night or she was supposed to but she was at party and Adam and I had gone to a concert and at around 10 pm Michal called me and told me Gemma was pretty drunk so I had to drive. I had had a few pints but like hours prior and didn’t drink anything else but I was just… Tired. I had just got into university and I was studying a lot and I guess the pints also… But yeah, I just fell asleep for like a second and next thing I know my sister’s yelling and the lights of a truck blind me and we’re out of the road.”

He isn’t looking at me then. Instead he’s looking out of the windshield and keeps swallowing as if that would break down the lump on his throat. I sigh and climb on my own seat, resting my weight on my knees so I can better reach him and then my arms wrap around his shoulders.

I am not mad anymore and I don’t care if I hadn’t stood my ground for long enough or if I hadn’t made my point correctly. I just don’t want to be mad forever. When people say it’s easier to hate than to love, I always think that it’s easier to start doing it but at least for me it’s not easier hating than loving. Loving feels good, for the most part of it, but hating takes a lot of effort and it usually comes from my belly and my throat and it tenses my shoulder and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be mad now. With Harry, what comes natural to me it’s not this. It’s not bad.

“I don’t want you to pity me, Indie.”

“Don’t call me Indie.”

I pull away from him so I can stare into his eyes and I hate the weight it lifts from my sternum.

“I am so sorry for what happened to you and for just pulling you away like that without giving you a chance to explain yourself but…”

“I get it, love.” My heartbeat speeds up at the nickname. “I should have told you. It was selfish and coward of me not to but what can I say? I am selfish and coward.” He shrugs.

“I don’t really think you are.” I look down at my thighs. “I have my own shed of secrets too.”

He waits patiently for me to open the door of my shed of secrets and let him in but I don’t have his strength, I know I would go down a road of depression and self-torture if I open that drawer so instead I just look up into his eyes and try to give him a small smile.

He hasn’t really cried and I wondered if he just has an auto-pilot for this like I had in the months after Dylan passed away. I would reply to every condolence in the same manner and it was like I had some sliding cape over me so that everybody’s words would actually slipped right over.

“Why me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, why do you… Tell me all this? Why did you basically follow me around until I listened to you?”

His green eyes frantically move between mine and he just stays quiet. I feel like I’ve been here before but it wasn’t in this car and his eyes weren’t green and I was still a kid. I hold his gaze but my eyebrows give my fear away as they furrow.

He’s never looked at me like that before and I think he knows too because his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows a lump that seems to weight down on his lungs just the one I’m trying to swallow myself.

“Because I can’t get enough of you.”

I let out the air I didn’t know I was holding and then my eyes shut and I’m back on my seat.

“You will someday.”

I look out of the window. I don’t want him to see me disappointed. It’s like my emotions know what’s going on before my brain does and so I wonder if there’s really some sort of soul on us that control what we’re feeling despite our better judgement. I think that’s the only that would explain how torn apart I am by all of this.

“Do you always do that?” He whispers so I look at him with a unsaid question on my lips. “Push those who care about you away?”

“You don’t care about me.”

He smirks but it’s the saddest expression I’ve ever seen him wear.

“Of course I do. I care about you a lot.”

My chest gets mad at me for not giving in what my body is so desperately trying to tell him but I keep my mouth shut and set my eyes on the dark outside his window.

“And I know you care about me too.”

His hand reaches for my knee and he rests it there without hesitation. My muscles relax and I hate that my body reacts like this to him.

“I won’t smoke again. But, please, forgive me.”

“How often do you smoke? And since when?”

“I barely smoke anything. I started smoking about a year after the accident. I… uh… I went to therapy, obviously, because well I just… It was pretty bad… But then I met this girl, her name was Eve, and she had weed in like cookies and brownies and stuff because she had cancer and… I had some with her and it just… It made me feel nothing, you know? But before that all I felt was pain so it was a nice change.”

“What happened to Eve?”

He’s surprised by my question. I don’t know why I asked that, I don’t know Eve but it just kind of slipped my lips.

“She passed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, she wasn’t afraid.”

“And how do I know you won’t smoke again?”

“Because I’m telling you.”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“I haven’t lied, I just haven’t told you everything. Hiding is not the same as lying. Otherwise, you’ll be a liar yourself, Blue, and I don’t think you are.”

“Of course I am, everybody lies.”

He sighs. I’m making this hard for him but it’s hard for me too. It’s only fair.

“If we get rid of that stupid rule of us, you can just find someone else to fuck. We both know you won’t have a problem with that.”

“But I don’t want someone else.”

Headlights illuminate Harry’s car and blind us. Coco’s car pulls over at the door and she squints as she tries to figure out who the hell is sitting on the car on our porch. She gets out her phone as she walks inside the house and my phone vibrates.

“I gotta go.”

“Alright.” He nods. “Thank you for giving me a chance to explain myself.”

This time it’s me who nods before I open the door of the passenger’s seat. When I walk home, I do it very slowly and only then realize how exhausted I am. I don’t hear the wheels of his car driving away until the front door is shut after me.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles and reader #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles love #harry styles love story

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

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if ur still taking them... 28 pyroscout 🥺

pyro tf2 said trans rights and scout tf2 said disaster bi rights and the team said queer rights and that’s what’s up, sis. (warning for discussion of past transphobia and other queer issues)

#28: First kiss.

It wasn’t that Scout was all that surprised to have Pyro end up as basically his best friend. He’d secretly been hoping that he’d get to be friends with a few of his coworkers when he’d taken the job, and Pyro was pretty close to him in age and shared a few of the same interests as him so it wasn’t unreasonable to expect to get along. It was just…

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that it was a little bit of an honor.

They hung out in plenty of places—watching TV or playing card games in the common room, hopping into a car and heading into town to watch the latest movie once or twice (or like eight times if they both really liked it), sometimes out back to start a bonfire or something for the hell of it.

But Pyro’s room tended to be his favorite hangout location of theirs, because that was the only place where they were okay with taking off their mask and suit.

Pyro had tried very hard not to make a big deal out of it the first time they’d unmasked in front of Scout. He’d been confused about what they were doing unclasping the bottom of it, since they didn’t have any food with them or anything and that was the only reason they usually did that—to sneak bites of food beneath. But then they shucked the whole thing up and over their head, shaking their head to re-orient themselves, sending their hair—he’d never thought about what Pyro’s hair had to be like before, how had he never thought of that?—bouncing around their face loosely, half-flattened but clearly very naturally curly. Pyro had to take a moment to fish something else out of their mask, a cap of some kind, probably to hold their hair down, and they clearly were trying very hard to avoid eye contact, nervous.

Scout, for once, was at a loss for words, mouth flapping in a way that was probably pretty similar to a fish for something like thirty seconds straight.

“Hey,” he finally managed, pointing at his own face where assorted freckles dotted his cheeks. “We match.”

Pyro glanced up at him, a little startled, then barked a laugh, and it sounded so much better when it wasn’t muffled. They hesitated a few more moments before they pulled off their gloves as well and set all of the newly-shed pieces of uniform down on their cluttered desk, fidgeting severely. “I guess so,” Pyro confirmed, and Scout had never noticed before that they had a very slight accent, too light for him to pick out what it had to be. “I’d never, I couldn’t tell before. With the…”

They pantomimed something up near their eyes, words stalling on them. It took Scout a few seconds to get what they meant. “With the mask?” he asked for confirmation. They nodded. “Oh. Huh. So it’s kinda like your first time seeing me too, huh?”

Pyro laughed. “I guess so,” they repeated, scratching at their stubble self-consciously, or maybe just because they finally could, and then Scout made an effort to both just move on with the rest of what all they were planning on doing when they hung out and also with not staring too much.

The jump to stripping off their suit as far as the tank top and thick-but-tight sweatpants they wore underneath was done a few weeks later when Scout had demonstrated that he wasn’t planning on saying anything, and he was only a little surprised by the plethora of burn marks and scars dotting their skin. He’d noticed an awful lot of scars all over Pyro, and he figured it was probably from when Pyro had been working as a mercenary before Mann Co., something he was aware had happened but hadn’t been able to coax Pyro into talking about. But it was nothing heinous, nothing that he figured warranted a full-body suit to hide it.

He tried to work out how exactly to ask Pyro why they wore the suit without being weird or rude. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“I appreciate it, you know,” Pyro said one day unprompted, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. They were sat a foot or so apart on Pyro’s bed and drawing, Scout sketching out a dramatic rendition of a particularly funny pose he’d seen the enemy Sniper land in when he died and Pyro apparently drawing yet another unrealistically bright technicolor landscape.

“What?” Scout asked, glancing over at them, more obviously than he’d been occasionally doing the whole time they’d been drawing together. They tended to do this really adorable thing where they stuck their tongue out a little bit when they were concentrating, and Scout had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling every time he saw it.

“That you don’t…” They hesitated. “…I dunno. That you don’t try and guess, now that you’ve seen me.”

Scout tilted his head. “Huh?”

Pyro’s gaze flickered to him and back down again almost too quickly to see. “You keep… not calling me anything,” they said. “Except for dude sometimes, but, you call everyone that anyways. That you still try and use “pal” or “buddy” instead of “man” or “lady” or whatever.”

Scout blinked.

Admittedly, there had been a good month or two right after he joined the team where he didn’t know how to refer to Pyro, and had just gone with using “he”, figuring it would be the less offensive assumption for someone in a mercenary career. Then at some point Engie finally sat him down and explained things to him, and after about a week of stumbling he finally got in the practice of using “they” and other words that weren’t particularly for a guy or girl. He couldn’t say that he really got it in a lot of ways, but he’d worked hard to learn the rules on how to be polite, because he figured he owed them that at the very minimum, if nothing else.

“What do you mean?” he asked after a second.

Pyro turned the marker in their hand over and over again. “Back before I started wearing the suit,” they started to explain, gesturing loosely at the suit in question, laid down on the chair at their desk like a deflated second Pyro (and admittedly sometimes scaring the shit out of Scout when he forgot it was there and noticed it in his periphery). “I would try and tell people I worked with that I wasn’t a guy or a girl, and they’d say sure, whatever, who cares, as long as you can kill people. But they’d look at me and start referring to me as a guy anyways. Sometimes a girl, but not usually. And only as… as neither, or both, or whatever, when I corrected them and maybe for a little while after.” They scratched at their stubble again. It was getting longer, and they’d probably shave pretty soon, if Scout knew them. “And it’s just… I always wondered what it was. I’d try and go clean-shaven all the time, wax, I wore makeup once or twice even to try and balance it out, but all that did was make them refer to me as a girl more, or look at me weird. I couldn’t seem to find the middle. So eventually I just put on the suit so nobody would… get hints anymore.”

Scout frowned, but didn’t know exactly what to say. “That’s the fuckin’ worst,” he decided on.

“I know, right?!” Pyro gushed, as if the dam had broken and they were finally allowed to feel mad about it. They sighed hard, pushing their hair out of their eyes, even if they just bounced right back into place a moment later. “They always respected me professionally, but what’s it take for a person to get called the right name, y’know!? Did they want me to wear a stupid t-shirt with instructions on it!?” Another sigh, then they looked up at Scout with those deep brown eyes of theirs, the ones that flooded Scout with an inexplicable sense of comfort. “And I guess I just wanted to say thanks. For not… I dunno. Being weird.”

Scout nodded, hesitated. “So I’ve been doin’ that right?” he asked suddenly, unable to stop himself.

Pyro smiled at him warmly. “You’ve been doing great, probably the best job anyone’s ever done,” they assured, and Scout knew his own smile was probably goofy and stupid looking, but he couldn’t bite it back.

“Thanks,” he said, having to look away, and Pyro laughed.

“And, I dunno. There was also this weird thing where I tried to date for a while and people kept not taking me seriously, then one day someone finally gave me a shot but got all weird and just straight up asked me what equipment I had on the second date and it was the worst.”

“I mean, none’a their fuckin’ business is what unless they’re asking if they should pack a condom,” Scout scoffed.

“Right!? It just sucked because most people would say “oh, I’m just into girls” or try and like, swing it as if I’m a guy and therefore it was totally cool, and only twice did I find someone who would go for whoever and one got weird about it and the other one is the person I took on two dates. Only person who ever gave me any real respect about it could only go on one date with me, and she was only cool because she kind of had some special circumstances going on too, then she had a contract abroad and we had to cut things off. And I just—I dunno. I wish people who went either way would… I dunno.”

“Hey, I fit that bill, and I’d totally date you,” Scout said, and then realized what he’d just said out loud.

Pyro was staring at him openly, mouth a little agape. They tried to start talking twice without success before finally managing it on the third attempt. “You’re bisexual?” they asked, a little surprised.

Scout immediately began backtracking. “I mean, I, I dunno,” he said quickly, looking away, face on fire, “I, it isn’t like I’ve ever really even gotten to date any, anyone but a couple girls and stuff, and, I, thinking and doing are kinda two different things, and y’know, labels and, and…”

They raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, yeah, I think I’m bi,” he finally admitted. “But you can’t fuckin’ tell anyone, got it? The guys already get all up in my grill about callin’ me gay all the time and, and Medic asking when the coming out party is and, and Sniper going all “what’s with the pride meeting?” and shit like that, I just, I don’t need any more of that fuckin’ nonsense, okay?”

“You know half of them do those jokes because they’re not straight either, right?” Pyro asked flatly.

Scout blinked. “The Doc and Snipes are gay?” he asked, surprised.

Pyro gave him a look.

“…Okay, I guess that’s, that tracks,” he admitted. “But—how many, who all’s…?”

“Far as I know, just Medic, Sniper, Heavy, and Spy, and those last two are also bi or something like that, and I think Demo doesn’t really swing any way,” Pyro said. “You really didn’t know? I thought they were pretty out about it.”

“Nobody tells me anything!” Scout said defensively.

“That’s fair. But… I dunno, I’m obviously not gonna go out and break out the news with confetti and streamers for you, but… I think they wouldn’t really care,” Pyro shrugged. “If anything they’d just try and wingman for you more.”

Scout thought about that for a while. “Man, what are the odds that we’d get a goddamn queer collective out in the middle of a fuckin’ desert?” he asked suddenly.

“Have you maybe considered that the people who’d go out into a desert away from civilization might be queer people trying to be more themselves where they can’t get as much backlash?” Pyro suggested.

“…Shit. That makes a lot of sense actually,” he admitted.

Quiet for a few seconds. “Let’s circle back around to that part where you said you’d totally go for someone like me,” Pyro said suddenly.

Scout pulled his hat down over his face, feeling it go red again. “Shut the fuck up, dude,” he protested, annoyed at how whiny it came out. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“Do you think about making out with me a lot?” Pyro asked, tone clearly teasing now, and Scout groaned.

“Oh my god, shut up,” he muttered. “I come out to you and you just start fuckin’ bullying me? That’s the play?”

“Duh,” Pyro laughed, and pinched his cheek, making him flush further as he batted their hand away.

“I’m just sayin’ that you’re good-looking and funny and anyone would be lucky to date you, okay?” Scout finally said, trying not to let more embarrassment flood through his voice.

That got Pyro to grin sheepishly, picking up their drawing again. “You’re sweet,” was all they managed to reply with, quieter now.

“The sweetest guy on the planet,” Scout agreed, picking up his own drawing as well, and Pyro elbowed him in the ribs, making him squawk.

He ended up coming out to Engie offhandedly during their lunch break about a week later, and he only even managed it because Pyro was sitting and eating next to him, their knee pressing into his own and bringing him enough comfort to broach the topic. Engie was immediately supportive, and ended the conversation with a pat on his shoulder and by saying he was proud of him for having to courage to say something.

That gave Scout a burst of confidence, and he ended up dragging Pyro around for the rest of the day as he came out to other teammates as well, first Demo and Soldier right after battle (Soldier needed an additional few moments of explanation but overall they were both glad to hear the news), then Medic and Heavy where they were sitting playing chess in the common room (once Heavy got past the language barrier, he offered Scout a solemn high-five in solidarity, which he accepted gratefully). Sniper was reserved for the next day, outside where he was setting up the grill to take his turn making the team dinner (he was a little awkward for a moment, clearly a bit confused and not having expected anyone to come talk to him, but once he caught on to what Scout was saying he offered one of his rare smiles and a few supportive words).

Oddly enough, Spy was the one that made him the most nervous for reasons he couldn’t pin down, maybe partially because he didn’t bring Pyro along, but he probably handled it the most easily, treating it as no big deal at all, simply pausing for a moment before giving a flippant “Alright. Was that all, mon ami?” and shooing him back out of his smoking room shortly after.

“Look at you,” Pyro said appraisingly when he showed up to hang out in their room, clapping him on the shoulder, clearly noticing the fact that he was practically glowing.

“Didn’t even get beat up or shoved in a locker,” he said cheerfully.

Pyro looked at him for another second or two before they finally just swept him up in a hug, squeezing him almost too-tight in their excitement. “I’m so proud of you!” they exclaimed softly, and he returned the hug, burying his face in their hair when he became sure that he wouldn’t get in trouble for it, surprised and delighted by how very nice it smelled. Vanilla-y and a little coconut-y, warm like everything else about them.

It was only through the combination of circumstances—riding the nervous high from being newly-out for the first time in his life, and being all wrapped up in a hug with his best friend, and his nose being greeted by the smell of the very appealing shampoo they apparently used—that he got the exact level of confidence to do what he did next. They pulled away from the hug finally to look up at him with that same proud smile, and he leaned down and kissed them square on the mouth.

It was three or four seconds before he pulled away again with a tiny, almost-inaudible little smeck. He smiled down at them, feeling the wildly spinning combination of euphoria and fear and excitement and apprehension and thrill and terror swirling around in his chest. Their lips were slightly parted, and they stared up at him with wonder. If he ever drew the moment, he would probably draw Pyro’s pupils in the shape of little hearts, the way they were looking at him just then.

“Oh,” they said breathlessly, and laughed a little. “So you were serious when you said you’d go for someone like me, then?”

Scout laughed, couldn’t stifle it, rising up through his chest alongside his heart. “Yeah, duh,” he said, voice tinted a little higher than usual.

“Well shit, then get back down here,” Pyro said, and tugged on his shirt, and he readily obliged.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #pyroscout #flashfire #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #that's the last request in my inbox lads!! we've done it!!

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