#and the cops were chasing the guy in their suvs like ?? make it make sense

[muirneach]

its literally so insane that cyclists can get speeding tickets. girl we don’t even have speedometers (mostly)

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from exposure

Multiple sets of handcuffs appeared and were applied. Bailiffs began peeling off the dog-pile like layers of an onion. And there, at the bottom of the scrum, was Kit. He was panting like a marathoner, arms still wrapping the Gamemaster's legs in a death grip. He'd clearly been the first to react.

"Oh, man!" Shelton had both hands on his dome. He seemed winded, despite not having moved during the attack. "Things just got real in here."

"Sorry I froze in there, Tor." Shelton frowned as he shirt wiped his glasses. "Not exactly my 'One Shining Moment', huh?" I waved off his apology. I knew Shelton hated how skittish he could be.

I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. It's very sweet, but teenage boys make lousy grief counsellors.

The previous semester, Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing.

"Jason might be there," Courtney chirped. "He likes you."

"Oh." Not a brilliant response. "Yeah, maybe. I might have a thing, though."

Wonderful. Good job, good effort, Tory.

Behind me, I heard Hi fake coughing to cover his snickers

"I should be a secret agent." Hi blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his lapel. "Or a magician. Maybe both. Someone write that down."

My hands shot for the Ray-Bans, but Ben caught my fingers mid-flight.

"It's not nice to grab," he said calmly.

"I can't handle all this tension," Shelton moaned. "Too much fighting."

Hi nodded, watching Ben dissapear down a side street. "We need to work on our conflict management. Maybe attend a seminar."

"Make your own?" Hi shifted to look at my face. "Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?"

"Tell me everything."

"You're not gonna be happy," Hi warned. "Don't kill the messenger."

"Or his good-looking buddy," Shelton added.

"On Saturday Ben and I drove to John's Islands to see Skyfall."

"You did?" Hi said sharply. "Thanks for the invite, jerks."

Shelton raised his palms. "You were at temple. We're suppose to wait around? Plus, you've seen that movie like five times."

"You still could've asked," Hi grumbled. "I don't—"

"Guys!" I clapped my hands once. "The story, please."

"So many gentleman admirers," Hi mused. "Must be tough, being a heartbreaker."

"Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker too."

Ella adopted a mock serious tone. "Will you bodyguards consent?"

I giggled. "If Shelton and Hi are my bodyguards, I don't like my chances. And yes."

"See this?" Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. "This is my 'couldn't care less' face."

"Boys?" I stood and faced them. "Something to share?"

"It was a secret." Hi aimed a kick at Shelton, who dodged easily. "Ben made us swear not to tell."

I crossed my arms. Waited.

"Tell Kit we're cutting a music video," Hi suggested as we walked. "Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse."

"Come on, Sambo!" Hi winked. "Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Wink at me again, Hiram, and I'll throw you to the wolfpack."

"Did I not mention that?" My brain was truly deep fried. "We went together."

"Oh." Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

"Hey, wait." I leaned closer to the screen. "You guys wouldn't have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn't be paraded around like Whitney's toy poodle." No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I'd given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn't want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

"Why don't we use our friendly words?" Hi suggested. "Let's take five, and everyone can say something we like about each other. I'll start. Shelton you're super at—"

"Shut up, Hi!" Ben and I shouted, the first thing we'd agreed upon all morning.

"Must be hell to keep the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once."

"Once?" Shelton asked.

"It died. Almost immediately."

"Nice work."

"It's a cultural thing," Hi was saying. "I think you're being insensitive."

Hines snorted. "Do you want me to cuff you?"

"Kinda."

"A minute alone, Tory. I'd like a quick chat."

Ben shot forward. "You can stick chat right up—"

Hi waved at me from across the yard, waiting for his mother to arrive. Apparently he'd body-blocked the first cops to chase me through the house. The police were none too pleased. I owe you one, Hi. You bought me enough time.

Entering the Virals chat room, I found all three boys present.

Uh oh.

They'd met there ahead of time, before alerting me. To discuss me.

I glanced up to see Shelton holding latex gloves. Hi had the ziplocks. Ben handed me a cotton swab and stopper. "Anything else?"

Despite the circumstances, I smiled.

Ruth popped her son on the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Hiram."

"Why does everyone do that?" Hi muttered. "And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add."

He looked away. The harbour breeze ruffled his silky black hair. My hand found his, almost by its own volition.

I couldn't be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm. And right then, I needed my arm back.

A smile quirked on my father's lips. "And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol'-fashioned backyard barbecue? My daughter will be there."

Ben's uneasy smile was his only response.

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi's dome.

Hi rubbed his head. "I'm getting pretty tired of that move."

"Then quit being a dope." Ben's lids remained shut.

"Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—"

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm of the sand.

"That was dumb." Hi informed the blue sky.

Ben started talking about Wando High. I countered with news of Bolton. Before long, we'd exchanged stories, catching up on the last five months of each other's lives. I hadn't realized how much I missed Ben. How badly I wanted him back at Bolton.

He was right, of course. I was keeping several secrets from Ben. Like how comfortable it felt to be alone with him. How much I'd missed his reassuring presence. His quiet strength.

Ben removed his shoes, plunged both feet into the lapping salt waters Then he leaned back against a post, sighing contently. The little-boy maneuver brought a smile to my face.

"You're staying out here?" Shelton asked. "Alone?"

"No big deal. I don't want Kit to see what I'm up to."

"I don't like it," Ben said. Behind him, Hi looked uneasy.

"No one knows this place exists." I pointed to the other room. "And there's an 85 pound predator in there that loves me. I'll be fine."

...

"Text me when you get home." Ben requested. "Please don't forget."

I hid a smile. "Will do. Bye, guys."

I sat forward at the table. "Okay, so ... like, don't freak out."

That got their attention.

"About?" Ben took the seat across from me, next to Hiram.

"There was an incident last night." Oh so calm. "I'm perfectly okay, but on the way hone someone attacked me on the beach."

"What?!" Three stunned voices.

"That's why you didn't text," Ben muttered.

Ben shook his head in wonderment. "Incredible. It's nice having a genius around."

"It's only genius if it works." But I flushed at the compliment.

I squeezed Ben's shoulder. "Who's the genius now?"

He snorted, looked away.

"You let her go alone?" Ben scolded, slowly working his way down to where Hi was beached. "That defeats the whole purpose!"

"I'm aware of that, Benjamin." Hi tried slinging a leg onto the riverbank, but it flopped back into the rolling current. "But she'd figured out you sent her away from the mine on purpose. You try telling Tory what to do when she's pissed."

"I'll pass."

"How's the leg, detective? Or did my wolfdog bite you in the ass, instead?"

"Hey, at least it's not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way."

His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.

"For Tory," Shelton said.

"For Tory." All jokes shelved.

Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.

Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.

I was no longer alone. The Virals had found me. Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug. Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance. My boys. My heroes.

"Do you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?" Ben couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "After making us promise not to do anything like that?"

"We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—"

"Oh, we will." Ben assured me.

I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed toward the ground.

"I'm terrified of you right now," Hi said wide-eyed. "And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time."

"Take the SUV and go. I'll stay with Ella and handle the fallout."

"Out of your mind." Ben said immediately.

"We could drive away without anybody knowing."

"I'm not leaving Tory to face this alone," Ben insisted. "Get serious!"

I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."

Ben tensed, ready to argue.

"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."

Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."

"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"

He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."

I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.

"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."

He turned to leave.

Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close. Smashed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity. Then I stepped back an shoved Ben towards the Explorer.

"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."

Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.

"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered.

"Corcoran will survive," Ben commented sourly. "He always does. We crack the case, he gets to be the hero."

My head whipped to Ben. Was that bitterness?

I saw no trace. Ben was smiling, relaxed for the first time in days. Maybe months.

As my father strode away, Shelton and Hi both unleashed dramatic yawns.

"Welp." Hi stretch his arms over his head. "I'd better go check on various things that aren't right here. You coming, Shelton?"

"Oh you know it." Hiding a smile. "Stuff to do. No time to waste."

I descended two steps.

Stopped.

Shot back up.

Wrapped Ben in a bone-crushing hug.

Startled, it took him a moment before he hugged me back.

"He didn't say anything to me," Hi repeated. "And if Shelton were sick, I'd be the first to hear about it. At length."

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

"Go inside. Look around. Improvise."

"Brilliant." Hi stroked his chin. "Quick question: Is having no plan the same as having a terrible plan, or are those different categories?"

[chelsfic]

Part 3 - You Shouldn’t Love a Man Like Me - Horacio Carrillo x Reader - Narcos fanfic

Part One | Part Two

A/N: I’ve been in a wave of creativity the last few days so I’m just rollin’ with it. Part three of Reader and Carrillo’s story. Angst, ahoy!! Enjoy! Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented and reblogged!

Warning: Violence (reader gets hurt)

***

You hold your hand up to shade your eyes from the glare of the midday sun. Steve stands next to you, leaning casually against the cafe’s sidewalk bar and sipping coffee from a ceramic cup. He’s different lately, since the visit from Connie. More grounded. You hope it lasts. You’re watching Carrillo as he packs up his SUV. His broad shoulders strain against the material of his uniform shirt, his tan, muscular arms flex as he loads equipment into the back. On another day you might be able to enjoy the view. But today all you see is the way he carries himself like a spring wound too tight, ready to burst. His mouth is set in a grim frown and his brows are pinched together with stress. God--he needed this to be a win so badly. 

Honestly, you did too. Not because you have a vendetta against Escobar that transcends into an almost spiritual mission, like Carrillo does. But because you need this damn war to be over. You need Escobar dead so that Horacio--your love--can finally be safe. You pushed yourself today, shadowing Carillo and Murphy as they moved through the building, refusing to let your lover out of your sight. You can’t...you can’t bear the thought of watching him march into a firefight while you hang back and coordinate another damn barricade. And it’s not because you’ve got anything to prove. As much as you bluster and try to keep up with the guys you know as well as everyone else does that your strength is in intelligence work and managing informants. That’s okay with you. You like that part of the job. Riding off, guns blazing on raids? That was all Steve and Javi...and Horacio. 

But ever since the night of the ambush--when you’d stayed back and monitored the mission on the radio while your lover and his men were surrounded--you haven’t been able to let go. You know he’s angry with you for inserting yourself into danger today, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much. You just need him to be safe.

You walk up behind him as he finishes loading the last of the gear. You’re reaching out a hand to rub his back when the call comes in. They found him. They really found him this time. 

Everyone is moving, jumping into vehicles and screeching out onto the road. Carrillo turns to look at you over his shoulder for a moment and his eyes are lit up with excitement even as he sets his face into the fierce mask of command.

“Y/N, you’re staying here!” he barks before jumping in the driver’s seat and taking off, leaving you standing there, red-faced and furious.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and Murphy leans his face in next to yours whispering conspiratorially, “Let’s go, girl!”

Your mouth splits into a wide grin and you both jump into the nearest truck as it pulls out onto the road.

***

By the time Carrillo realizes you’ve once again disobeyed his orders and inserted yourself into the vanguard assault team along with him, it’s too late. He glares at you from the other side of the front door as the men smash the battering ram against it. Immediately the sound of gunshots from inside erupts and bullets whiz through the air around you. Jesus, you and Murphy haven’t even had time to put on your bullet-proof vests. You duck, clutching your pistol in one hand and raising the other to cover your ears. Carrillo crouches across from you and tries one more time to wave you away before the door comes down and everyone is rushing inside. 

It’s chaos. Bodies press together to squeeze through the doorway and then you’re scrambling for cover as gunfire rains down. You find yourself kneeling behind an overturned dresser in between Murphy and Carrillo. Both tall men are just barely able to fit behind it with you squished in the middle. You feel Horacio’s firm hand pressing into your back and holding you down as he pops up to return fire. You should want to struggle away from him and join in the exchange of bullets. You should want to assert yourself against his authority. But in truth you’re thankful to him for watching out for you. This isn’t your specialty and you don’t want to cause problems for the team. You just need to be near him. To see him safely through this nightmare.

The warm reassurance of his hand leaves your back and you look up in time to watch he and Murphy spring up to chase the two fugitives up the stairs. Another police officer falls in a spray of bullets and your heart leaps into your throat. They’re already halfway up the stairs. You jump up and trail after them, taking the steps two at a time to make up for your short legs. At the top of the stairs, you sprint down the hallway and hop out the open window onto the rooftop. 

You’re completely exposed out here. It’s just you, Horacio, Murphy and a couple of cops. Escobar is jogging away and throwing shots at you every few steps. You slow your pace, ducking and dodging as bullets ping off the metal and clay roof tiles. Murphy and Carrillo are leading the chase. They’re going to get him. There’s no way out for Escobar this time. You stop, hanging back and watching your lover as he finally nears the end of this years long quest. You’re sweating, bent over and breathing heavily with exertion, but you smile to see your man finally--finally completing his life’s work.

You don’t even feel it when the bullet hits you. One second you’re on your feet, eyes locked on Horacio as he sprints after his quarry, the next you’re flat on your back, head snapping backwards and cracking against a roof tile. For a second you think you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you, forgetting that you aren’t wearing your vest. You lay there staring up into the crystal blue sky and wait for your lungs to expand. They don’t. When you finally get your breath back it’s rapid and shallow. And there’s a sharp pain blossoming in your chest. You taste bile and something coppery as panic starts to set in. No, please. You’re so close.

Clouds drift overhead and a bird crosses your field of vision. It’s strange--how can the world keep going when such monumental events are playing out on the ground?

You hear your name being called. It sounds choked, desperate, and terribly far away.

***

The bullet flies wide of Carrillo and he doesn’t give it another thought, leaping forward to lengthen his strides as he closes in. Murphy is right behind him. This is it. This is finally it. The people of Columbia will rest easy knowing this madman has been brought to justice. He feels a swell of pride at the thought that it will be his hands putting this bastard in cuffs. 

Carrillo’s senses are laser focused on his prey. So, why does he suddenly jolt to a stop when he hears the sound of a body hitting the tiles behind him? He turns his head, glancing over his shoulder to check who’s gone down. 

It feels like a cold hand reaches into his chest and closes around his heart. No, mi amor! You’re lying prone on the rooftop, unmoving...alone. Murphy and the other men continue their pursuit, speeding past him and after the goal he’s fought for. Carrillo curses under his breath, casting his eyes back towards the chase and watching Murphy take the lead. It’s no choice at all, really.

He turns from them, from Escobar, from the crusade he’s waged for the last three years. His gun falls from his grip as he collapses to his knees at your side. He looks down at you, hands hovering over your blood soaked t-shirt. Your breath stutters in your chest and specks of blood splash onto your lips as you try to speak, “Hh...racio.”

You try to take one of his hands but miss. He leans over you and his face fills your vision, tears falling freely from his beautiful eyes. Yes, you think, let this be the last thing I see.

“Don’t--don’t speak, mi amor. You’re gonna be okay. Just save your strength, okay?”

He’s lifting your shirt and running his fingers over your torso searching for the wound, his hands quickly become soaked in your blood. When he finds the entry wound on the right side of your chest he presses down with all his strength and you let out a cough that sprays blood all over his arms. 

Tell me again, you think as your vision starts to go dark around the edges, tell me you love me.

***

The first thing you see when you wake up is a giant, cheerful teddy bear perched on your bedside with a note pinned to it reading, “Love, Javi and Steve.” The idea of one of them picking this out, buying it and carrying it in here is so hilarious that you start to laugh before the monstrous ache in your chest brings you up short and the laugh turns into a pained moan. 

Carrillo is at your side in an instant, “Shhh, my love. Thank God, how do you feel?”

He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, pressing urgent kisses into your fingers. You’ve never seen him look so tired. And you’ve seen him after a 24 hour stake out. His eyes are puffy, his hair is uncombed and sticking up on one side as if he fell asleep leaning against a wall or something. He’s looking at you like you might break apart at any moment.

“I feel…” you start and then pause trying to figure out how you feel. “I hurt. A lot.”

Horacio laughs at that. He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek in the lightest of kisses.

“Yeah, well...you got shot, mi amor,” he says and you imagine you hear the edge of disappointment in his voice. You just wanted to keep him safe and instead you’ve messed everything up. Why can’t you ever just do as he tells you?

You lips tremble and your voice comes out thick with tears, “I’m sorry, Horacio. I’m sorry, I--I--”

You start to cry and immediately you feel the wound in your chest ignite with pain. You yelp in pain and gingerly clutch your hand over the bandage that wraps your chest.

Horacio looks aghast. He’s wiping your tears away and begging you, “Don’t cry, my love, please! I’m not angry. I was so, so scared I’d lost you. Please, be still, Y/N, you’re wounded.”

You cling to the gentleness and truth in his words, wrapping your hands around his wrists to keep his hands cupping your cheeks. You love the feel of his palms on your skin. Nothing in this world makes you feel safer than Horacio’s touch. When you’ve had a moment to steady your breathing and you feel more solid, you finally ask the question.

“Horacio, did we get him?”

His face is relaxed, calm, serious as he regards you. He nods, “Yeah...we got him.”

Tears slip free once more and you’re overwhelmed with relief. Your smile feels like it might split your face in two, but you don’t care. It’s over. It’s finally over. You can finally be with Horacio and not have to worry if he’ll be kidnapped or shot or tortured the next time he leaves your side. Finally.

He’s looking back at you with that same serious look on his face and you feel your happiness waver as doubt shadows your heart. 

“My love,” you whisper, reaching out to cup his cheek. He nuzzles his face against your hand and you feel a little more certain. “Are you happy?”

He turns his head and brushes a kiss against your palm, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and holding it lightly in his grip as if he fears you might float away if he doesn’t keep a hold of you.

He hates the doubt in your voice and attempts a smile to reassure you as he responds, “I am the happiest man alive because of you, mi amor. Pablo Escobar...catching him, stopping him...that man has no control over my happiness. Only you do, Y/N. Only you.”

You let out a sob of happiness, content to withstand the stab of pain in your chest as you reach out both arms and force him to bend over the bed and wrap you in a tender, loose hug. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his clean, masculine scent. Your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and you decide, then and there, that you’re never going to let go of this man again.

“I love you, Horacio,” you whisper into his ear. 

He turns his face a little so that his stubble scratches deliciously against your cheek, “I love you, my disobedient little girl.”

He pulls back a little so he can look into your eyes. His lips curve in a smile and he looks, for the first time since you’ve known him, happy and carefree.

“Marry me, Y/N.”

The words fall from his lips in the playful, dominant tone he reserves for you alone. And the way he says them, a command rather than a question, sends a shiver down your spine.

This is one order you intend to obey.

Tags:

@sparrows-books @1zashreena1 @squidlywiddly87​

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2020

We’ll start with movies. The number in parentheses is the year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. Here’s 2019’s list. 

01 Little Women (19)

02 The Post (17) 

03 Molly’s Game (17)

04 * Doctor No (62)

05 Groundhog Day (93)

06 *Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home (86)

07 Knives Out (19) My last theatre experience (sob)

08 Professor Marston and his Wonder Women (17)

09 Les Miserables (98)

10 Midsommar (19) I’m not sure how *good* it is, but it does stick in the ol’ brain

11 *Manhattan Murder Mystery (93)

12 Marriage Story (19)

13 Kramer vs Kramer (79)

14 Jojo Rabbit (19)

15 J’ai perdu mon corps (19) a cute animated film about a hand detached from its body!

16 1917 (19)

17 Married to the Mob (88)

18 Klaus (19)

19 Portrait of a Lady on Fire (19) If Little Women made me want to wear a scarf criss-crossed around my torso, this one made me want to wear a cloak

20 The Last Black Man in San Francisco (19)

21 *Lawrence of Arabia (62)

22 Gone With the Wind (39)

23 Kiss Me Deadly (55)

24 Dredd (12)

25 Heartburn (86) heard a bunch about this one in the Blank Check series on Nora Ephron, sadly after I’d watched it

26 The Long Shot (19)

27 Out of Africa (85)

28 King Kong (46)

29 *Johnny Mnemonic (95)

30 Knocked Up (07)

31 Collateral (04)

32 Bird on a Wire (90)

33 The Black Dahlia (05)

34 Long Time Running (17)

35 *Magic Mike (12)

36 Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (07)

37 Cold War (18)

38 *Kramer Vs Kramer (79) yes I watched this a few months before! This was a pandemic friend group co-watch.

39 *Burn After Reading (08)

40 Last Holiday (50)

41 Fly Away Home (96)

42 *Moneyball (11) I’m sure I watch this every two years, at most??

43 Last Holiday (06) the Queen Latifah version of the 1950 movie above, lacking, of course, the brutal “poor people don’t deserve anything good” ending

44 *Safe (95)

45 Gimme Shelter (70)

46 The Daytrippers (96)

47 Experiment in Terror (62)

48 Tucker: The Man and His Dream (88)

49 My Brilliant Career (79) one of the salvations of 2020 was watching movies “with” friends. Our usual method was to video chat before the movie, sync our streaming services, and text-chat while the movie was on. 

50 Divorce Italian Style (61)

51 *Gosford Park (01) another classic comfort watch, fuck I love a G. Park

52 Hopscotch (80)

53 Brief Encounter (45)

54 Hud (63)

55 Ocean’s 8 (18)

56 *Beverly Hills Cop (84)

57 Blow the Man Down (19)

58 Constantine (05)

59 The Report (19) maddening!! How are people so consistently terrible to one another!

60 Everyday People (04)

61 Anatomy of a Murder (58)

62 Spiderman: Homecoming (17)

63 *To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (95) Of the 90s drag road movies, Priscilla is more visually striking, but this has its moments.

64 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (92)

65 *The Truman Show (98)

66 Mona Lisa (86)

67 The Blob (58)

68 The Guard (11)

69 *Waiting for Guffman (96) RIP Fred Willard

70 Rocketman (19)

71 Outside In (18)

72 The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (08) how strange to see a movie that you have known the premise for, but no details of, for over a decade

73 *Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country (91)

74 The Reader (08)

75 Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (19) This was fine until it VERY MUCH WAS NOT FINE

76 The End of the Affair (99) you try to watch a fun little romp about infidelity during the Blitz, and Graham Greene can’t help but shoehorn in a friggin crisis of religious faith

77 Must Love Dogs (05) barely any dog content, where are the dogs at

78 The Rainmaker (97)

79 *Batman & Robin (97)

80 National Lampoon’s Vacation (83) Never seen any of the non-xmas Vacations, didn’t realize the children are totally different, not just actors but ages! Also, this one is blatantly racist!

81 *Mystic Pizza (88)

82 Funny Girl (68)

83 The Sons of Katie Elder (65)

84 *Knives Out (19) another re-watch within the same year!! How does this keep happening??

85 *Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (10) a real I-just-moved-away-from-Toronto nostalgia watch

86 Canadian Bacon (92) vividly recall this VHS at the video store, but I never saw it til 2020

87 *Blood Simple (85)

88 Brittany Runs a Marathon (19)

89 The Accidental Tourist (88)

90 August Osage County (13) MELO-DRAMA!!

91 Appaloosa (08)

92 The Firm (93) Feeling good about how many iconic 80s/90s video store stalwarts I watched in 2020

93 *Almost Famous (00)

94 Whisper of the Heart (95)

95 Da 5 Bloods (20)

96 Rain Man (88)

97 True Stories (86)

98 *Risky Business (83) It’s not about what you think it’s about! It never was!

99 *The Big Chill (83)

100 The Way We Were (73)

101 Safety Last (23) It’s getting so that I might have to add the first two digits to my dates...not that I watch THAT many movies from the 1920s...

102 Phantasm (79)

103 The Burrowers (08)

104 New Jack City (91)

105 The Vanishing (88)

106 Sisters (72)

107 Puberty Blues (81) Little Aussie cinema theme, here

108 Elevator to the Gallows (58)

109 Les Diaboliques (55)

110 House (77) haha WHAT no really W H A T

111 Death Line (72)

112 Cranes are Flying (57)

113 Holes (03)

114 *Lady Vengeance (05)

115 Long Weekend (78)

116 Body Double (84)

117 The Crazies (73) I love that Romero shows the utter confusion that would no doubt reign in the case of any kind of disaster. Things fall apart.

118 Waterlilies (07)

119 *You’re Next (11)

120 Event Horizon (97)

121 Venom (18) I liked it, guys, way more than most superhero fare. Has a real sense of place and the place ISN’T New York!

122 Under the Silver Lake (18) RIP Night Call

123 *Blade Runner (82)

124 *The Birds (62) interesting to see now that I’ve read the story it came from

125 *28 Days Later (02) hits REAL FUCKIN’ DIFFERENT in a pandemic

126 Life is Sweet (90)

127 *So I Married an Axe Murderer (93) find me a more 90s movie, I dare you (it’s not possible)

128 Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (67)

129 The Pelican Brief (93) 90s thrillers continue!

130 Dick Johnston is Dead (20)

131 The Bridges of Madison County (95)

132 Earth Girls are Easy (88) Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum are so hot in this movie, no wonder they got married 

133 Better Watch Out (16)

134 Drowning Mona (00) trying for something like the Coen bros and not getting there

135 Au Revoir Les Enfants (87)

136 *Chasing Amy (97) Affleck is the least alluring movie lead...ever? I also think I gave Joey Lauren Adams’ character short shrift in my memory of the movie. It’s not good, but she’s more complicated than I recalled. 

137 Blackkklansman (18)

138 Being Frank (19)

139 Kiki’s Delivery Service (89)

140 Uncle Frank (20) why so many FRANKS

141 *National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89) watching with pals (virtually) made it so much more fun than the usual yearly watch!

142 Half Baked (98) another, more secret Toronto nostalgia pic - RC Harris water filtration plant as a prison!

143 We’re the Millers (13)

144 All is Bright (13)

145 Defending Your Life (91)

146 Christmas Chronicles (18) I maintain that most new xmas movies are terrible, particularly now that Netflix churns them out like eggnog every year. 

147 Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse (18)

148 Reindeer Games (00) what did I say about Affleck??!? WHAT DID I SAY

149 Palm Springs (20)

150 Happiest Season (20)

151 *Metropolitan (90) it’s definitely a Christmas movie

152 Black Christmas (74)

THEATRE:HOME - 2:150 (thanks pandemic)

I usually separate out docs and fiction, but I watched almost no documentaries this year (with the exception of Dick Johnston). Reality is real enough. 

TV Series

01 - BoJack Horseman (final season) - Pretty damned poignant finish to the show, replete with actual consequences for our reformed bad boy protagonist (which is more than you can say for most antiheroes of Peak TV).

02 - *Hello Ladies - I enjoy the pure awkwardness of seeing Stephen Merchant try to perform being a Regular Person, but ultimately this show tips him too far towards a nasty, Ricky Gervais-lite sort of persona. Perhaps he was always best as a cameo appearance, or lip synching with wild eyes while Chrissy Teigen giggles?

03 - Olive Kittredge - a rough watch by times. I read the book as well, later in the year. Frances Mcdormand was the best, possibly the only, casting option for the flinty lead. One episode tips into thriller territory, which is a shock. 

04 - *The Wire S3, S4, S5 - lockdown culture! It was interesting to rewatch this, then a few months later go through an enormous, culture-level reappraisal of cop-centred narratives. 

05 - Forever - a Maya Rudolph/Fred Armisen joint that coasts on the charm of its leads. The premise is OK, but I wasn’t left wanting any more at the end. 

06 - *Catastrophe - a rewatch when my partner decided he wanted to see it, too!

07 - Red Oak - resolutely “OK” steaming dramedy, relied heavily on some pretty obvious cues to get across its 1980s setting. 

08 - Little Fires Everywhere - gulped this one down while in 14-day isolation, delicious! Every 90s suburban mom had that SUV, but not all of them had the requisite **secrets**

09 - The Great - fun historical comedy/drama! Costumes: lush. Actors: amusing. Race-blind casting: refreshing!

10 - The Crown S4 - this is the season everyone lost their everloving shit for, since it’s finally recent enough history that a fair chunk of the viewing audience is liable to recall it happening. 

11 - Ted Lasso - we resisted this one for a while (thought I did enjoy the ad campaign for NBC sports (!!) that it was based on). My view is that its best point was the comfort that the men on the show have (or develop, throughout the season) with the acknowledgement and sharing of their own feelings. Masculinity redux. 

12 - Moonbase 8 - Goodnatured in a way that makes you certain they will be crushed. 

13 - The Good Lord Bird - Ethan Hawke is really aging into the character actor we always hoped he would be! 

14 - Hollywood - frothy wish-fulfillment alternate history. I think the show would have been improved immeasurably by skipping the final episode.

[darkredehmption]

Take Hold Part One

#SL #TakeHold #PartOne 

@DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang 

*~*~*

Mal:

These were the nights that reminded me of hunting. The rush. The adrenaline. The balls to the wall fucking chaos that changed every second. 

My feet pounded the pavement, Rhage at my left, as we pursued three Lessers. The stink of them alone was enough to track them through the streets, but one was wearing an obnoxious orange hoodie, making him a beacon as we raced down the back alleys and side streets. 

We weren’t the only ones on the hunt. I could sense Zsadist and Tohr getting closer, hunting their own prey, and I realised a few streets before it happened that we were coming to a head. Were the Lessers grouping together? Maybe they’d planned it. The thought earned a growl as I cast my angelic senses wider, trying to detect more of that oily darkness. 

“I’m going airborne,” I called to Rhage, who only grunted his agreement as I summoned my wings and launched into the air. Unlike dematerialising, I didn’t need to concentrate anymore to get my wings - they were right there, always, ready to appear the second I thought of them. I also wasn’t limited by steel or things like other vampires, so I had that going for me too. 

Hitting the rooftop, I sprinted across to bisect the alleys. Tohr and Z with their Lessers were about to merge with Rhage and ours, and I knew, without knowing ‘how’ I knew, that it was a trap. 

As the two Lesser groups came together at a junction they pivoted, forming one group as one black blooded fuck at the centre drew out an assault rifle. The gun pointed toward Zsadist, and there was no other thought. I tasted my heart in my throat as I leapt off the building. Slamming into the Lesser from above, I took the one with the rifle to the ground, vanishing my wings as we rolled across the pavement. 

Whatever else the Lessers had been expecting, it hadn’t been an aerial assault, and the others shouted their confusion at the game change. The rifle went off a couple of times, at least one bullet hitting one of the Lessers and perfuming the air with the stench of sweetened roadkill. But I didn’t feel pain, and Zsadist wasn’t hit, so that was all that registered as I wrenched the weapon free and went to town on the fucker beneath me. 

Zsadist:

 I could smell my mate. He was too far from Tohr and I. I couldn’t help but wonder how things were going for him and Rhage. My male was strong, a warrior just like my Brothers, but I still worried about him getting hurt. Fuck. If his wings were out, and a lesser laid their hands on them, I would gut them like a fish.

“We got em!”

Tohr hollers as we speed up. My shitkickers pushed into the pavement as we ran after the trail of baby powder. It felt nice to be out and chasing after the enemy. So much has been going on that has left me in a funk lately. The whole Hadrian thing was a mess. I cared for the male, but ever since we became bonded it all changed. He kept his distance from me, and Mal wanted nothing to do with him. At least Wrath was smart enough to keep them off rotation together. I couldn’t imagine how well that would go.

Suddenly I’m brought to a halt.  Here came the group of lessers, followed by not only Rhage but another batch of the enemy. They trapped us. Fuckers weren’t as always dumb as we thought. Before I can ask Hollywood where Mal was, I watch as a lesser raises an assault rifle at me. Then suddenly he was crashing down as my mate fell from the sky and tackled him to the ground. 

I didn’t know whether or not I should be impressed or upset that he took the fall like that. My golden eyes flash black as my body takes over. The warrior coming out in me as my Brothers and I leap forward to take on the rest of the lessers. Lunging towards one that tries to grab Mal from behind. Don’t get me wrong, it bothered me when someone came after my Brothers, but when someone touched my mate, it awoke an animal in me. 

I growled loudly as my fist connected with his jaw, having the satisfaction of watching the fucker’s pale head snap back. I took him down, my fangs latching onto its throat as I roughly tore it open with a violent shake to my head. Black blood splattered over my face, the sounds of him screaming was like music to my ears. 

Pulling back I spit out a piece of his flesh, letting out a low laugh before I brought out my blade and finished him. The bright light flashes in my face, but I ignore it as I shift up, my eyes searching for Mal.

Mal:

There was chaos, but it was a familiar sort. The kind that adrenaline recognised because it mainlined it through your system and got you moving at just the right speed with just the right strength to break bones, spines and jaws. 

I delved into that chaos and let the adrenaline guide my hand, my blades, and I minced my way through the Lessers if they remained standing. Without Butch here, there was no disabling them for a final vacuum moment. It was straight up massacre, pop flash and buh-bye fuckers. Catch you later.

With every Brother and my lover around me engaged, and Lessers bleeding out at our feet, I inhaled sharply and looked around. A chill traced down my spine and I paused a second longer, frowning as I tried to get a fix on it. Was it just the Lessers? The lingering essence of the Omega as one of its denizens was stabbed back into the dark ether? 

Scowling, I pivoted as another of the fuckers came at me, brandishing my black slick blades and pretending I was a sushi chef as I carved him up. The darkness had to be them… and soon there’d be none of them left to poison the night.

Getting to meet Zsadist’s gaze for a split second, I grinned at the black, the furious protective nature in that gaze, and drove my dagger straight into a chest cavity. His eyes were lost to me in the burst of light that followed.

Zsadist:

I kept my gaze on my mate’s until I felt the presence of another behind me. Quickly I turned, dagger held high, ready to strike, only to see the enemy wasn’t behind me. 

What?

Looking around to see each of my Brothers and Mal squared off with the remanding lessers. I almost thought it was the demons inside my head messing with me until I felt something creep up on me once again. But before I could turn I’m surrounded by darkness. My golden eyes go wide, lips parting as I back myself up into a wall. Pressing into the bricks as I try to shake off this feeling. My vision seems hazy as I tried to focus on Mal, who had a lesser down on the ground. 

I screamed internally, then suddenly it felt like I was looking out as an outsider. As if something else was controlling me, taking over my body. I wanted to be sick and purge out whatever was brewing inside of me.

[Get the angel.] 

A voice whispered in my head. 

What? Shaking my head to rid the thoughts, but it didn’t stop. Soon I was pushing off the wall and heading straight for Mal. It was like my legs were moving on their own accord. Like I wasn’t controlling my body. I wanted to scream, I tried too, but nothing came out of my mouth. 

[Shh. Get the angel.] 

Before I reach my male, my head turns to watch the Escalade pull up. Butch appears and exits the vechile to play vacuum. Inhaling any lesser left over from the fight. I just stood there watching. Even if I wanted to move I couldn’t. All I could do was watch the scene unfold in front of me. 

[Watch the angel. Watch him.]

Mal:

As the final Lesser went down, I brandished my blade, the black blood slicking off to make a dark line against the pavement. I was panting, but everyone was standing, and so I was grinning. The adrenaline rush was real. 

Glancing up, I took in Z, his powerful body stock still and spattered with gore. I did a sweep, checking for red, but there was no blood I could see. He looked whole. Yet I felt… unease. My smile faded.

“...Nallum?” I wiped my blade on a Lesser’s shirt, right before Butch staggered over and went blackhole on his ass. Sheathing the blade, I approached Zsadist, frowning. “You okay? Sorry if my aerial manoeuvre didn’t go over well,” I add, suddenly worried the somewhat reckless move had inspired his bonded male side. 

“Hey!” A quick glance over my shoulder at Vishous, supporting a green looking Cop, and I gave a hasty nod. This probably wasn’t the best place for a relationship themed chat, and the stink eye V was giving me said as much. 

“M’ coming. I can drive. You guys can finish checking shit out here and head back,” I offered, moving to hold Cop’s other side as I look back toward Zsadist. He sheathed his blade, the action almost mechanical as his still vacant expression stared out at the world. “You wanna ride with us?” I offer hesitantly, feeling my heart skip a little with concern I couldn’t voice yet. 

Every part of me that adored the male wanted to drop Butch in a heap and rush to Zsadist’s side, wrap him in my wings and stroke his face as I figured out what was wrong. What had upset him. Yet this was the deal we’d made, out fighting together. We loved one another, but we were warriors. That was how this shit went.

“C’mon,” I said, my tone firm. “You’re comin’ with us.”

Zsadist:

[Yes. Follow the angel. Get the angel. Go.]

My body moved automatically towards the SUV. Following Mal as he moves into the driver seat. I practically pushed Vishous out of the way to get to the passenger side. Sliding in and turning my head to gaze at the angel. My angel. 

[My angel.]

Once Butch was in car, it started to move. My eyes stayed trained on the angel. Watching his every move. When he lifted a hand, my eyes followed it. Watching as he messed with the ac, or turned the dial on the radio.

[Get the angel. My angel.]

I wanted to scream again. To tell Mal that something was wrong. That I wasn’t myself and I needed help. If I could only move my hand, touch him, and alert him about the situation. But I couldn’t. I was trapped and all I could do was watch. 

[Shh. My angel.]

The voice was like no other. A voice that would cause nightmares even from the strongest warrior. It made me cringe, turned my stomach upside down every time it spoke. 

Mal! Please Mal!

I screamed in my head over and over again. Hoping that one of the times my lips would part and he would hear me. But he didn’t. He just focused on driving us home. He was too distracted checking on Butch who was groaning in the back seat of the Escalade. 

Mal:

I set the tunes to a reasonable volume and pulled out of the alley, leaving Vishous and the others to finish the clean up routine. The irony was they’d still beat us back to the manse, but neither Butch or I could do the disappearing act, so the SUV was where it was at.

Eminem was interspersed with Butch’s occasional groaning and moaning, and I checked the rearview whenever I could. 

“You need to hurl you lemme know,” I called out, getting only a muttered curse and ‘fuck off’ for my trouble. I shrugged and grinned, letting the amusement bleed into my voice. “I mean, it’s your car man so however fucked up you like it is entirely up to you.”

Another curse. This one came with the bird being flipped. I chuckled and glanced to Zsadist in the passenger seat, hoping the interaction would’ve provoked some kind of relaxing to his intensity. But no…

The smile faded from my face, and I reached across the space, wanting to put a hand to his knee. It was the most I could allow myself in this moment, still being out and watching the streets. Nevermind if I let anything happen to Butch - V would fuckin ash me in seconds…

The second my hand touched his knee though, my Divinity sparked down my spine. It was a rush of energy, a burst of power totally undetectable to any creature other than myself. But it was there. And it was a warning.

My eyes widened as I looked around, trying to cast that power out and find the problem, the threat. But all I got was a nauseating punch to the gut. As if it was right there, in front of my face, and I was missing it. Looking back to Zsadist as we pulled onto the highway, I squeezed his knee.

“Talk to me. Are you okay? You’re… really quiet. Even for you.”

Hopefully once we were at the manse, I could figure this out. Maybe even ask V to run a city sweep for weird things that might trigger my holy side. But Zsadist had to come first. Something was definitely up with mine male. 

Zsadist:

It was so hard to just stare at my male and not be able to talk to him, especially when he spoke up. I didn’t even feel his touch as he placed a hand on my leg. Nothing. Everything around me felt dark and cold. Almost like I was back in the dungeon once again.

“Yes, my angel.”

The demon replied in a voice that sounded exactly like my own. When I saw relief on Mal’s face I lost it. No! Don’t believe a thing it says! Fuck, please help me. 

My hand lifted automatically and landed on Mal’s shoulder, fingers clenching as it gave my mate a squeeze. “We better get Brian home then we can head to our bedroom.” 

Butch snorts loudly from the back. “First of all, Brian? And can you keep your dick in your pants until I’m far away from you two. Damn.” He groans, rolling on his side. “Like I’m happy for y’all, but that doesn’t mean that I wanna know how anxious you are to get down and dirty.” 

My chest rumbles as laughter erupts from me. But it wasn’t me. No. It was something sick that was playing the role of me. And doing a shitty job, if I may add. “Just relax, we will be back soon.” 

The mansion comes into view moments later as we pass the mhis. I watched as Fritz buzzed us in, the car pulling around the fountain in the front, and as soon as it stopped I was getting out. 

[Follow the angel. Follow wherever he goes. My angel.]

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 16

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

Stiles drinks half a bottle of water from the stash in Jackson’s car, and uses the rest to clean his face and hands. His head has cleared a little now, making room for a dozen different bodily aches and pains to make themselves known. Some are sharper than others, but Stiles doesn’t think anything’s broken. His chest hurts, and he figures he’ll have a hell of a bruise from the seatbelt this time tomorrow, but it’s nothing worse than he’s copped at lacrosse practice in the past.

He sits on the front steps of the burned-out house, clutching his water bottle. Lydia sits beside him, dabbing at the cuts on his hands occasionally with one of the antiseptic wipes she took out of Chris Argent’s first aid kit.

Jackson sits on the lowest step, his suit jacket unbuttoned and his tie loose.

Crazy to think that the school dance is probably still going on.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Lydia tells him. “You have a concussion.”

Stiles swallows. “I need to find my family.”

Lydia presses her mouth together into a disapproving moue, but she doesn’t argue.

What’s the hospital going to tell Stiles anyway? That he needs to rest? Not going to happen.

He watches the interplay between the wolves and Chris Argent. Derek and Peter stand close together, loose limbed, ready for action. Chris Argent’s orbit intersects with theirs. Not aligned, exactly, but no longer on a collision course. They are making space for one another. Stiles imagines lines drawn around the three of them, moving and reshaping as loyalties and alliances shift, as things that were unknown become known.

Laura was the piece that never fit, and Stiles discovering why hasn’t just changed things between Peter and Derek, he can tell. Chris Argent’s glances at Peter are wary and guarded, but no longer openly hostile.

“So at some point very soon dispatch is going to call my dad and wonder why he doesn’t answer,” Stiles says, swallowing around the painful lump in his throat. The Hales and Chris Argent stop to look at him. “They’ll send backup, and they’ll find the car. And then the whole fucking department will be called out looking for him. For us. So unless everyone wants to answer a bunch of questions from Beacon Hills’ finest, we need to not be here.”

They have to act fast, Stiles is sure of it. And trying to explain the whole werewolf thing to Dad’s deputies isn’t going to speed anything up at all. It’s just going to lead to questions that Stiles can’t begin to have answers to, and possibly an unwilling stay in Eichen House.

Derek stares up at him.  There’s an openness to his expression that Stiles hasn’t seen before, and he hopes that he never forgets. Because, whatever else happens tonight, Stiles did that. Stiles gave him back his uncle, his packmate, his Alpha.

Stiles shifts his gaze to Peter. “Can you find them?”

“They’re bait,” Peter says simply. “They’re meant to be found.”

Stiles likes Peter’s sharp edges and sharper pragmatism. He doesn’t trust them, but he likes them. He understands them. In a crazy world, somehow Peter Hale makes sense.

“What happened with Laura?” he asks, lifting his chin.

“We fought,” Peter says simply. “I remember that much. She tried to control me, but she couldn’t. I wasn’t hers to control.” His gaze slides to Lydia, and narrows, and then back to Stiles.

Redheads who stink of magic, Stiles thinks.

Peter rolls his shoulders. “I had no memory of killing her, but she was dead and I was an Alpha, and what was I supposed to think? Any time that voice inside my skull told me that I would never hurt her, I called it guilt and shut it down. But then Stella found the talisman.”

Stiles has possibly given something back to Peter Hale tonight as well.

“That’s when you knew,” Stiles says. “That’s why you killed the nurse.”

Peter’s top lip lifts, half a smirk, half a growl. “It turns out her hold on me wasn’t quite as unbreakable as she thought.”

Stiles nods, and then lifts his hand to his head because ow.

Derek pads barefoot up the steps. The moonlight shines on the planes of his torso, and wow, how did Stiles ever take so long to realize he was bi? Except it’s not a sexual kind of thrill that jolts through him when Derek sits down beside him. It’s more than that. It goes deeper. It goes all the way to feelings Stiles isn’t used to extending beyond his immediate family: he looks at Derek and he feels safe, and protected, and loved. He hardly fucking knows the guy, not really, but it’s there.

Derek sits down and reaches out and cups Stiles’s jaw with his warm hand. Then he moves it to the back of Stiles’s neck, cradling the base of his skull, and Stiles feels all those floaty feelings he felt before.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking your pain,” Derek says softly.

And something about that feels so overwhelming that Stiles’s eyes sting, and when he blinks tears slide down his cheeks.

It’s confirmation, he thinks.

He stumbled here screaming Derek’s name, begging for Derek’s help, and he was right. He was right.

Derek’s here for him.

He leans in as Derek does the same.

They rest their foreheads together, and Stiles closes his eyes.

He hears the rustle of fabric as Lydia stands up and moves down the steps to wit next to Jackson. He hears the crunch of dead leaves as Chris Argent paces back and forth. He hears the whisper of the wind through the trees.

But he keeps his eyes closed for just a moment longer, because Derek is here, and Derek is helping him, and Derek is strong.  

When he opens them again, Stiles feels strong too.

***

“Kate’s staying at my house,” Chris Argent says. “She wouldn’t have gone back there. But there’s a storage facility over on Henderson Street that she might know. I use it for my work sometimes.”

Peter snorts.

“What?”

“You might know,” Peter says. “But how would I? The bait’s for me, soldier boy, not you. Do you even have a brain in that skull of yours, or does Victoria keep it in her purse alongside your balls?”

Woah. Stiles’s jaw drops.

Chris curls his fingers into fists. “So how would Kate set a trap for you, Hale?”

“Yes, that is the correct question, Christopher,” Peter says with a disarming smile Stiles doesn’t buy for a second. “Well done. But first of all, why did you even come out here tonight?”

“I followed Kate.” Chris winces as he leans down and scoops the first aid kit up off the ground. “I was worried about Allison. Worried Kate was trying to drag her into the family business, and we never wanted that for Ally. I still am worried about her.”

Jackson snorts.

Chris turns to glare at him. “What?”

“It’s the night of the dance,” Jackson says. “Allison and that douchebag McCall are probably fucking like rabbits by now at the Value Inn.”

Like, Jackson is a total dick, but Stiles really has to give him credit for saying that right to the face of an angry man with a gun. Also, he’s totally on the money, and Stiles is glad—and surprised—that for once Scott’s obsession with Allison is saving his life, not endangering it. It makes a change, honestly.

“Oh,” Peter says approvingly while Chris Argent bristles. “I like this one too.”

Jackson sits up straighter.

Peter smirks. “And instead of wasting time puzzling out exactly where your sister might have taken her hostages, I’ve always been a fan of jumping right to the chase. Give me your phone, Christopher.”

Chris Argent digs his phone out of his pocket, unlocks the screen, and tosses it to Peter.

Peter snatches it out of the air like the predator he is. He smirks as he scrolls through the contacts, and then dials.

“No,” he says after someone answers. “It’s not Chris. It’s Peter Hale.” He pauses for a moment. “Bleeding out on the ground in front of me, actually.”

Chris Argent presses his mouth into a thin line but doesn’t disagree.

“What’s it worth to you?” Peter asks, tilting his head slightly. “I see. Very well. Where?”

And then he ends the calls and tosses the phone back to Chris.

“Bad news,” he says. “She doesn’t give a shit if you’re dead. But she wants me and Derek to meet her at the cemetery.”

Chris Argent turns away as he pockets his phone.

Smart, Stiles thinks. The second Dad’s cruiser is found, every deputy in Beacon Hills will descend on the Preserve. The town itself will be a cop-free zone, and the cemetery is far enough away from any residential areas that nobody is likely to hear anything going down at this hour anyway.

It makes sense in another way too.

If Kate couldn’t engineer her showdown here, where she burned the Hales to death, then she’s going to engineer it where they’re buried.

It’s horrifying, but Peter doesn’t seem to notice. He has to be at least ninety percent sociopath, or a better liar than anyone Stiles has ever met. He’s not sure which option is more intimidating.

“Let’s go,” Peter says, rolling his shoulders. “I think I’ll drive that Porsche. Derek, you and Stiles can catch a lift with Christopher.”

“He has a plan, right?” Stiles whispers to Derek.

“Usually, yeah.”

Peter smirks as he walks toward them.

“You smell like magic,” Peter Hale says, and extends his hand to Lydia as she sits on the steps.

She regards him silently for a moment, and then allows him to help her to her feet.

Jackson hurries after them as they walk off into the darkness.

***

The moonlight makes such strange shadows on the ground.

Stiles’s feet crunch in the dry leaves as he walks toward Chris Argent’s SUV. “I’m sorry I didn’t come for you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I left you here with her.”

His hand twitches by his side, and Derek catches it.

“Stiles, I know. I had a little sister too. I would have done anything to protect her.”

Ahead of them, the tight line of Chris Argent’s shoulder stiffens even further.

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. “I’m still sorry though.”

He glances at Derek in the moonlight.

“You look nice,” Derek says at last, and Stiles remembers he’s wearing his shirt and tie from the dance still. Dress pants and polished shoes. Everything got a little crumpled in the crash, and there’s blood on his button-up shirt now, so Stiles figures Derek is lying. It’s a nice lie though.

“So do you,” he says, and then realizes how bad that sounds given Derek is wearing next to nothing. His face heats up. “Um. Can we forget I said that?”

“For now,” Derek agrees seriously, and then his mouth quirks up at the corners. “But we’ll revisit it later.”

Stiles barks out an ugly, surprised sound that’s almost a laugh. Who knew Derek could be funny? Gallows humor, probably, but Stiles will take it.

“We’ll get them back, Stiles,” Derek says. “Stella and your dad. I promise.”

Stiles attempts his own gallows humor. “Or die trying?”

Derek doesn’t smile. “Yes,” he says. “Or die trying.”

[scarpool-gmk]

8

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 8 (10/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

The ride to Botsaris’s get-a-way car was done as quickly as possible. Clarisse had grouched about Annabeth being driver and stole Percy’s claim to riding shotgun out of spite.

Typical.

For the demigods, getting out of the office couldn’t have come fast enough. Grover, however, had doubts.

“Are you really okay leaving now? They’re going to question Michael’s family. Shouldn’t we be there? It might help us in the case.”

Clarisse cracked her knuckles. “It might end it.”

Annabeth sighed. “The others will take care of it. They will find Michael’s killer.”

Clarisse stared at her. “You’d let the mortals completely take over the investigation?”

“Our priority is to make sure we are the ones to find General Botsaris and Monster Donuts.”

“Wait a second,” Percy said. “I thought the quest was to find out who killed Michael.”

“The more important objective is to find out what Michael was digging up,” Annabeth said. “Based on Michael’s notes, there is a huge monster threat here.”

“A-and you want to upset it?” Grover asked.

“That’s what your brother did,” Clarisse said, “And I’m not overly fond with the idea of turning out like him.”

“Hey!” Percy glowered at her. “Not cool.”

“Use the kelp in your soggy head, barnacle boy,” Clarisse growled. “We’ll be in their territory. We’ll be outnumbered and out armed. Michael said they were arms dealing with Mexican Cartels, which means they’ll have guns. We can’t be sure they’ll be stocked with celestial bullets, so we’ll be the ones with the holes, not them.”

“Then we shouldn’t rush in there,” Percy said. “We’ll need a plan.”

He looked at Annabeth expectedly.

Annabeth stayed silent, focusing on making a left turn.

“Um, w-we do have a plan, right?” Grover stuttered.

Annabeth took a breath. “Of course. It’s simple. We sneak in and do some reconnaissance. We keep quiet. In and out.”

Annabeth looked at Clarisse and Percy like they would be the most trouble to her plan.

‘In and out, low profile,’ Percy thought. ‘I can do that.’

“And making sure the mortals get the killer?” Clarisse said. “If it was actually a monster who killed Michael, what do you plan?”

Annabeth glanced at her. “I’m sure it was a mortal. They are seasoned investigators. We are not. We should let them do their jobs. We must do ours.”

“You trust them?” Clarisse asked.

“I do. So should you.”

Percy looked between them and decided to change the topic. “What did Chiron say about Rodriguez?”

It was the wrong thing to bring up. Annabeth scowled. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“He wanted me to hand over all of the IDs and footage we got. He wants to tell the families.”

“Sounds alright to me,” Grover said.

Percy saw Annabeth’s grip on the wheel tighten as her scowl deepened. He leaned forward and placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Percy felt better as she relaxed a little to the touch. “I’ve known him for too long. He was dismissing my questions. Avoiding giving answers. It’s not like him to hide important information.”

Percy scoffed.

“At least, not with me,” Annabeth added.

“Are you going to let him do that?” Clarisse asked.

“Sure.”

Clarisse narrowed her eyes at her.

Annabeth smirked. “But he didn’t say I couldn’t keep copies of the files.”

Clarisse leaned back into her seat with arms crossed. “I should have talked to him. I’d have gotten the sense out of him.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and turned into a large parking lot.

“There it is.” Percy pointed. “The car Tony and Agent David saw.”

Annabeth parked the car, taking up three spots.

“A black 2007 Porsche 911,” Clarisse said.

“Fits the description,” Annabeth said. “Correct license plate.”

“Also has a police officer keeping tabs on it,” Grover noted.

The demigods looked up to see a cop car rolling to a stop.

“I don’t know,” Percy said. “They’re probably giving us a ticket for Annabeth’s parking.”

Annabeth gave an airy laugh. “This place is empty,” she said. “They probably won’t even say anything.”

The window rolled down.

“You the, uh, NCIS?” The woman said after a quick glance at her computer screen.

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, showing her ID and badge, prompting the rest to do the same. Not that it mattered as the officer hardly even gave it a glance.

“Street cams have it coming in here yesterday afternoon.”

“Thanks for calling us,” Annabeth said.

“Do you need a tow?”

Annabeth shook her head. “It’s part of an ongoing NCIS investigation. We’ll have it picked up as soon as we can.”

The cop shrugged. “No worries. You can take your time.” She drove off. However, she did say one last thing as she rode passed them. “Oh, and please only take one parking space.”

Grover grinned at Percy. “Nice.” They shared a fist bump. Annabeth grumbled as she got back in the car.

Clarisse looked around. “If Botsaris left his car here, where did he go?”

“Maybe he went into the mall or got picked up?” Percy said.

Clarisse disagreed. “No, not at the mall. Since he knows we are involved, he didn’t park too close to the Hydra nest. But, if he wanted to come back to his car, he would have wanted to be somewhat near it. Grover, see if you can get up something and look around.”

“Get on top of something?” Grover said. “Like what?”

“There’s a tree right there, Goat boy,” Clarisse said. “The car is fine. You can even get on top of Prissy.”

“Um, let’s not,” Percy said, hands up in surrender.

“The tree is fine,” Grover said. He kicked his shoes off. The fake feet followed right after. He hopped up the tree like, well, like a goat. It looked a bit funny, a professionally dressed guy with hooves for feet surveying the land on top of a tree in a parking lot. A bit surreal, too. Even considering all the things Percy had seen.

It took a few seconds, but eventually…

“I see it!” Grover said. He launched himself back down and thanked the tree.

Annabeth got out of the car. “What happened?”

“I found Monster Donuts!” Grover told her. He snatched the keys from her hand. “Come on!”

“But I just – ugh!”

Percy felt for her and tugged her along to sit by him. He explained what happened as Grover revved up the car and went back on the street.

“Woah,” Annabeth said, as they got closer. “I’ve never seen one so big.”

Percy coughed down a joke and leaned over to get a look. The doughnut store was nothing like the one Annabeth, Tyson, and he found years ago. This one was much larger. “It has a drive-thru?!” Percy exclaimed. Did monsters drive? Or did this one also cater to non-monsters?

“Hmm, but it’s closed,” Annabeth said, noting the large sign, closing the drive-thru off. “Grover, park over there. We don’t want to alert any monsters by parking right in front of them.”

Grover parked the car out in front of an electronics store two stores down. They grabbed their gear.

“Right,” Annabeth said as they snuck through the drive-thru, “A place this big will have a staff-only entrance at the back. I’m guessing that’s where they keep weapons and deal with Cartels.

“Clarisse, you’re with me. Going in through the front sounds like a bad idea, and it looks like the only door that isn’t at the front is that back door reserved for loading and staff. We’ll have to go through there. We should be out in twenty minutes. If that doesn’t happen and you don’t hear anything, regroup and try IMing us to get a grip on the situation. If it doesn’t connect, call Chiron and leave. Don’t go barging in.

“Percy, stay out here. See if anything loads in. Hopefully, no one goes in or out while Clarisse and I exit. If it happens, we might need your help. Grover, you’ll be posted at the front. Try not to be seen. See who enters. It’d be great if you can…”

Percy’s eyes started wandering. Oooh, a Boston Crème with chocolate icing.

“Percy! Stop looking at the menu and focus!”

Percy snapped back to attention. “Sorry, Annabeth.”

Annabeth sighed. “At least you understand your part of the plan, right?”

Percy nodded. “Stay out here on lookout. Be backup when you guys leave. Regroup after twenty minutes.”

‘And if you’re not out by then, barge in for a rescue.’

Annabeth nodded. “Let’s do this.”

They split up. Clarisse and Annabeth sneaking their way in, and Grover heading off to find his own place.

Percy went nowhere. This felt oddly familiar. Annabeth giving out orders. Annabeth going into enemy lines. Annabeth leaving him right on the edge of the enemy base. Ah, Percy got it.

‘It’s just another game of Capture the Flag for Annabeth,’ Percy thought. Why did he always get left in the middle?

Great, and now he could hear a car coming in.

Percy stopped. Was that car coming through the drive-thru? Wasn’t it closed? Wait a second. If someone was coming through the drive-thru, they had to come around back which was where-

Percy cursed when he realized he was just standing there. He would never hear the end of it if he was seen. He looked around for a hiding place. ‘Oh, not again.’  Percy forced his pride down and shoved himself in the tight place. Percy couldn’t tell which was worse. Being in the dumpster or stuffed in between two of them. At least when he had been in the dumpster, he had Tony’s company.

A black SUV came coasting through the road and stopped by the corner of the building. Percy watched as three people stepped out. The woman was carrying a briefcase.

For such a professional-looking ride, they didn't dress the part. All of them in casual clothes. The lady with the briefcase gazed around the back area. Percy tried to shrink himself further into the shadows.

They went up to the store’s back wall. But they weren’t anywhere near the back entrance. With one final glance behind her, the lady raised her fist and knocked on an unassuming part of the wall.

And just like magic, the wall opened to reveal a secret doorway.

Percy couldn’t see who opened the door. What he did know was that Annabeth and Clarisse definitely needed to know what was happening in this secret entrance. Annabeth probably wouldn’t want him to move, but this was a reconnaissance mission. What kind of information would he get from outside the secret hideout?

Percy pushed himself out from between the two dumpsters and ran over to the wall, after making sure no other surprise visitors were coming.

He inspected the area. He brushed his hand over the wall until he found it. A very small, straight chasm. Unnoticeable to those who didn’t know what to look for.

Percy went back to the trash to find anything he could use. He picked up a thin sheet of metal that had corroded off of the dump itself. That should do the trick. He went back to the secret door and tried opening it. He jimmied the metal piece through the small area. The door slid open. He was met with a small, dark hallway. He entered, closing the secret doorway on the way. Percy crept in.

A couple paces away, the path turned, and there was a door-sized opening.

Percy pressed himself to the wall and took a chance, braving a peak. He gulped.

Those were a lot of monsters. Tens of telekhines and dracaenae were standing in different places around the room. A few harpies hung from the ceiling. A Hydra was curled up in the far corner. The mortals either didn’t see them or didn’t care. They just kept walking to the center.

There, dozens of long cases were strapped on rolling two-wheelers. And with them, stood Markos Botsaris.

“Mr. Tarsibo,” the woman said, emotionlessly.

“Ah, Ms. Cuadra,” Botsaris said, going in to shake her hand, “How wonderful to see you again.”

Ms. Cuadra waved him off. “Sí, sí, sí. Just the deal, Mr. Tarsibo.”

Botsaris went to grab her case. “Of course. Business as usual. Now, for the rest of the money.”

Ms. Cuadra held the case away from him. “Where are the rovers? You usually have them set up out back.”

“Ah,” Botsaris said, “Yes, there has been a little mishap with the vehicle order.”

“Mishap?”

Botsaris spread his arms in a shrug. “We don’t have them.”

“You don’t have them?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then the deal is off,” Ms. Cuadra said. A couple dracaenae hissed, but the woman continued. “Reynosa would have the transfer she gave you up-front back.”

“The money cannot be recalled. Unfortunately, we do not have access to our vehicles at the moment. And won’t have for some time. Your car order has, at the moment, been canceled.”

The woman bristled. “We have been trusting you and doing business together for a while. Do not get on the Reynosa’s bad side.”

Botsaris didn’t look bothered. “We will, of course, try to send the cars you ordered as soon as we may get them, but…” Botsaris looked at the wall behind him towards the inside of Monster Donuts.

Percy froze. Had they been found out? Had he sensed Annabeth and Clarisse?

The lady chortled. “What? Don’t remember your excuse?”

Botsaris smiled. “I’m sorry. But it seems we must have a break in proceedings. We have uninvited guests.”

The building rumbled, and the sounds of gunfire began.

-Αντώνης-

Tony left the car door open as he and the rest of Gibbs’s team surrounded the very familiar black Porsche.

“That’s the car that tried to run us over, Boss,” Tony said.

“Call it in,” Gibbs said.

Tony looked at McGee, who nodded and took his phone out.

“What are we thinking, Boss?” Tony said. “Chase and her friends find anything in the car that leads to Tarsibo?”

“Car is locked,” Ziva said. “It’s abandoned and empty. They couldn’t have found out anything by it.”

Tony frowned. “So, where’d they go?”

Gibbs gestured behind him. “Officer.”

Tony turned to see a local enforcement officer stop her ride. She looked out her window with pursed lips. “Let me guess,” she said. “NCIS?”

Gibbs flashed his badge, which was pointless as the officer didn’t even look. “Thought so. No double parking.”

Tony looked at where the federal vehicle was. True, it was taking up two spaces. “But there’s no one here.”

He got an unimpressed look. “You know how many times I hear that?”

Tony started to sputter a rough estimate, but Gibbs spoke over him.

“There was another team that came over here. Know where they went?”

The officer cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t know where your co-workers are? Do you not like talking with each other?”

Gibbs shrugged. Tony forced a chuckle out. “Government employees, am I right?”

Her face showed that no, she did not agree. “I think I saw them going down that street. I can’t be sure, though. They had one of their agents climb up a tree.”

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and looked at his team.

They all took a step back. Tony, McGee, and Ziva made their excuses at the same time.

“You know, I’ve just got this cramp in my legs- ooh. There it is.”

“Boss, I’ve never seen a tree before. I’m probably allergic.”

“I will light the tree on fire before I climb it. I’ll toss Tony in, though.”

The cop smirked. “Government employees, indeed.”

“Mmhmm,” Gibbs hummed and went back in the car.

Tony gladly followed. He almost didn’t have time to click in his seatbelt when Gibbs put the pedal to the metal and raced down the street.

“Where are we going?” McGee asked.

“Following a hunch.”

Tony and McGee shared a look. Gibbs’s gut.

“Gibbs,” Ziva said a minute later, pointing out the window, “Monster Donuts.”

Tony stared at the passing store. He had been searching this whole time! How did he miss that?

Gibbs turned into the nearest shopping area.

“Boss,” McGee said, “It’s Lima’s- er, Chase’s car.”

“They must have gone in already,” Tony said.

“Let’s go,” Gibbs said. They moved in on Monster Donuts on foot. Tony felt uncomfortable. Like they were being watched.

“It’s closed,” McGee said, noting the sign as they came up closer.

Gibbs tried the door. It didn’t open. Locked. He gestured to McGee.

“Not kicking down the door, Boss?” McGee asked.

Was he for real? Making snarky comments in this situation?

Gibbs’s eye twitched.

McGee withered. “Sorry.” He clicked his way through the lock, and they all filed in. The lights were off, and nobody was in the customer area. Seemingly empty. However, soft sounds came from behind the service counter.

Gibbs pointed at Ziva and signaled for a wedge formation. They went in. Gibbs taking flank, McGee watching six. There was a ton of equipment. Large tray stacks, fryers, a whole bunch of connecting rack wheels, conveyor belts. It was pretty cramped.

Ziva froze and held a fist up for the others to do the same. Tony watched with bated breath as she pressed herself against a large refrigerator. Ziva dropped to a crouch and waited a second. She suddenly whirled around and popped out of cover, gun at the ready.

Tony sighed through his nose when she gave the okay. Ziva made a hand sign. Tony frowned and took a peek behind the huge appliance.

A white poodle was lying down, stirring awake. Whoever put it there had cleared a really large space for it. It started to growl the instant it saw them. For such a small dog, it made the sound of a truck. Its beady eyes were murderous.

“Gibbs,” Ziva said quietly.

“I see it.”

Both had their guns drawn and pointed upwards. Tony didn’t see anything.

“What are you guys looking at?”

“Use your eyes,” Gibbs said.

“And let yourself believe,” Ziva added.

What? Tony looked back at the snarling dog. Use his eyes and believe was what they told him. Keep an open mind. It was essential for an investigator. Anything was possible.

And for perhaps the first time, Tony really looked. The white poodle faded away, replaced by a massive paw.

Tony drew in a long breath. He slowly tilted his head back, letting the air out in time.

He had no idea what he was seeing, but it was slobbering, had teeth almost the size of Tony’s head, and was much, much more menacing than the little poodle.

A small gasp to his right told Tony that McGee also saw it. His younger friend took a step back. For a scary moment, Tony thought he saw the dog smile.

“Easy,” Gibbs said.

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “A hellhound.”

As if recognizing the word, the hound responded.

Its bark shook the building.

-Ανναβετη-

Annabeth couldn’t even act like she was surprised. She and Clarisse were already on there way back out when Hades broke loose. Out of all her plans to be garbled, it always had to be one of the more important ones.

They scrambled outside and were immediately on edge upon seeing a black SUV.

“It looks empty,” Clarisse said, “Where’s Percy?”

Annabeth eyed the tinted car warily. She could take a good guess.

A slab of the wall slammed open. Annabeth didn’t even jump, but Clarisse rounded on it in a flash.

Percy yelped when he saw the gun in his face.

“You,” Clarisse said. “Where have you been?”

“The secret meeting room,” Annabeth answered.

Percy gaped at her. “How’d you know that?”

“The dimensions of the place didn’t add up.” Honestly, who were they trying to fool?

“Well, Botsaris is there with a ton of monsters and some people from the Reynosa Cartel.”

Clarisse spat a curse. She hefted her spear off her back and expanded it to full length.

“They are coming out right now!” Percy said.

“Guys!” Grover scrambled to a stop. “It’s the team. They went in through the front.”

“Let’s grab them and go,” Percy said.

The secret hatch crashed open once again.

“Go?” A dracaena hissed. “No one’ssss going any-“

She let a short wail as something gutted her stomach.

“Oh, someone’s going alright.” Clarisse bared her teeth. “But it sure as Hades ain’t gonna be me.” She twisted her spear, and the snake dissolved to dust.

The man who had stood behind the dracaena growled. Clarisse readied her spear as the man did the same with his own weapon.

Percy’s eyes went wide. “Gun!” he shouted. He grabbed Clarisse by the collar and dragged her away just before the shot came out.

Annabeth took cover with Grover behind the SUV. Clarisse and Percy joined them a second later. She took out her gun, prepped it, and fired a few shots. She missed the mortals but at least got them scrambling for their own cover. They weren’t the only ones with guns.

Clarisse followed her lead, taking shots at monsters. While being unable to kill immortals, regular bullets could still pack a mean punch. As they fell, vines and roots grew from the ground to keep them in place.

Annabeth looked at Percy. He had his sword out, but it was pretty out of place in a gunfight. “Percy,” Annabeth called, “The NCIS team. Go to the front and help them.”

“I would, but,” he ducked as an arrow chipped the car’s hood. “How am I going to get passed this?”

Annabeth thought for a second. “We’ll need a big distraction. Grover, can you get us something big?”

Grover paused his reed pipe rendition of ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams.’ “I’ll try, but I don’t really know. Having to keep all this playing up is making me tired.”

Shoot.

“What’s plan B?” Grover asked.

“We fight!” Clarisse said, unloading a couple shots.

“Actually, that’s plan E,” Annabeth said.

“Whatever.”

“Try anyway,” Annabeth told Grover. “Percy, just help while I figure this out.”

Percy’s brows scrunched up. He looked down at Riptide. “How?”

“Use your gun!”

He nodded at her and pried it out. He crouched over his cover and pulled the trigger.

Nothing came out. Percy looked at his gun in shock. Annabeth facepalmed. “Percy! The safety!”

“The what?!” Percy held out his gun. “How in Hades do you use this thing?!”

Clarisse snatched it away. “Give me that, doofus.”

“Hey!” Percy made to retaliate but had to dive down as a flurry of bullets came his way.

Annabeth watched as Percy screwed eyes tight. There was a squeal of metal. And suddenly, the barrage died out. Pipes burst from the doughnut store and sprung from the ground, water gushing out.

A harpy took its chance at the pause of gunfire and arrows. It swooped down on them. It didn’t get far. And it screamed as an electric spear pinned its wing to the ground.

“Percy!” Annabeth said, “You’re amazing!”

“I am?”

“You just made the distraction!” Annabeth gave him her spare knife. “Give this to one of the NCIS mortals.”

Clarisse also threw him a knife.

“You keep spare knives?” Percy asked.

“Always carry a spare knife!” The two girls said.

“Now, go! We’ll cover you.” Annabeth pushed him out.

They turned back to the horde of damp monsters and made sure Percy made it out of the fight zone.

“Hopefully, the mortals can help us out,” Grover said.

“I hope they don’t shoot at us.” Clarisse paused for a second, reloading a magazine. “Or die before they get the chance to.”

Annabeth said nothing. They shared a nod and, together, popped out and fired their rounds. Annabeth focused on the mortals. Although few of the monsters also carried firepower, their aim proved to be atrocious. Most likely attributed because their flippers and snake-limbs were not taken into consideration when guns were made.

Clarisse ignored the mortals entirely and let her bullets fly to Botsaris, who simply hid behind a telekhine, causing it to take each hit.

“Letting others take the shots!” Clarisse yelled. “What kind of son of Ares are you?”

Botsaris smiled at her. “I’m not a son of Ares.”

-Αντώνης-

Tony dodged a snap of teeth that would have cut him in half. Barely.

Tony almost went for the holstered gun at his hip, again. Not that it would do anything. Gibbs had ordered them to hold off after firing a couple shots at the beast proved to do no damage.

A knife flew by him and would have gone hilt deep into the dog’s head had it not been indestructible.

Ziva cursed behind him. Well, Tony had to give her kudos. It was one hell of a nice throw and had the absolutely wonderful effect of pissing the beast off even more.

Now, it really wanted to kill them, starting with Ziva. And Tony just happened to be in its way.

“Go!” he shouted.

He grabbed a spatula and held it like a bat.

“Come on. Come on,” He muttered, hoping to God that the hellhound didn’t actually do it. But it did.

This was it, Tony realized. He was going to die by dog. How pathetic. He always thought that this was how McGee would go. But if McGee, Ziva, and Gibbs survived because he, Very Special NCIS Agent Anthony DiNozzo, made the sacrifice, then that’s what he would do.

Tony was about to swing his flimsy weapon and get himself eaten while totally not screaming when something slipped by him. No, not something. Someone. A flash of bronze sliced in front of the hound. It let out a yelp, and a gold ooze ran into its furry chest. The hellhound swiped a massive paw at the new attacker. But the boy just flipped over it.

Tony stared. That was Jackson! He was fighting a massive dog beast with a sword! And doing some epic parkour, too. Wow, he was pretty impressive!

At some point, Percy had managed to get on top of the beast. With both hands on the hilt and a victorious yell, he thrust his sword into the dog’s neck.

The dog let out a whimper before rupturing to dust.

Percy landed on the ground, covered in gold dead-monster sand. If his brain was working properly, Tony would have thought that the scene he just saw explained a lot.

“Aw, did you have to kill him?” A voice called out. Tony turned around. A lumbering figure came out from the back. A man as big as a bear stepped into the destroyed area. He was wearing a colorful uniform and an apron that read, ‘Donut panic! I’m Cooking!’. According to the name tag, his name was Steve. “He just wanted to play.”

Tony swallowed. The man had arms thicker than turkey legs. And he could probably wield a spatula a lot better than Tony could. But what was really having him freak out was the one, big eyeball that was stuck right above his nose.

“Heh, you know, we got that dog when we figured out someone was sneaking around. Placed him right by the entrance.”

Jackson frowned. “So, why didn’t you put one by the back door, too?”

The cyclops blinked his one big eye. “Uhhhh….”

‘Thunk!’

Tony watched in a repulsive fascination as that great big eye rolled backward. Its owner struck to the floor.

Gibbs stood behind the body, a huge rolling pin in his hands.

Jackson blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Looks like you’ve got yourselves covered.” He dropped down two bronze knives. “Your weapons won’t work. Use these.” And before anyone could say anything, he rushed out back again.

Gibbs twirled the wooden utensil in his hands.

“Boss,” Tony gaped, “You just knocked out a Cyclops!”

Gibbs’s lips curled. “Yeah. I did.”

Tony, Ziva, and Tim could only stand and watch as Gibbs turned and followed Jackson to the store’s back.

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[sunshineofthegroup]

Diet Coke & Ray, a Raywood fic

Ryan didn’t have favorites, but he had Diet Coke, and he had Ray.  (read on ao3)

Everyone seemed to realize Ryan didn’t have particularly strong pulls towards a ‘favorite’ thing separately, but they all came to the same conclusion eventually.  fahc Raywood, fluff, ignore that Christmas was ages ago, based on the fact that Ryan gets annoyed if you ask him what his favorite anything is, ~6k aka much longer than I intended sorry, (also juggey because who doesn’t have those feels at this point) ((also also im not sorry for all the run on sentences and overuse of the word observant))

*

Michael pulled Ryan’s name for Secret Santa and threatened to rage quit Christmas immediately after seeing the name.  Fortunately Geoff was the only person in the room at the time, because Michael had immediately begged, “Can I switch with Ray?” and Geoff had frowned at him, beginning a Dad Lecture™ about honor and responsibility.  That’s when Michael knew he was screwed.

What the fuck did Ryan even like?  Besides murder?  Michael slowly realized he knew the least about Ryan than anyone in the crew.  Ryan was out with Ray four nights a week doing jobs. The other nights, he was on the couch with Gavin, Jeremy, and Ray playing any pretty much any video game. Geoff and Jack knew everything there was to know about the crew and Los Santos.  Michael didn’t know shit.  Michael was fucked.

Even though Geoff had strictly forbidden Michael from seeking help from anyone else (even the B-team! What kind of bullshit rule was that??), Michael still thought maybe Ray would accidentally (or not) let something slip about what Ryan might want for Christmas.  Everyone knew Ray and Ryan were the closest of anyone, and Ray and Michael were good friends, right?

“So, you know this whole ‘secret santa’ thing?” Michael asked.

“Yeah?” Ray responded, not looking up from (surprisingly) not pokemon, but cleaning his sniper rifle.

“Did you get the whole lecture about not talking to anyone about it?”

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “Geoff gave me the whole thing after I pulled mine and started bitching about it.”

“I wish I’d gotten you instead, I know exactly what I’d get you,” Michael sighed.

“What’s that?” Ray asked, laughing a little in anticipation.

“Weed and lube, disguised in a bouquet of red roses,” Michael replied.

“Both things I could use,” Ray agreed.  “I’d get you a basket of grenades with a brand new elite xbox controller in the bottom of it.”

“Dude, that’d be sweet,” Michael agreed.

“Personalized to say ‘will you marry me’,” Ray joked.

“Don’t be fucking gay,” Michael replied, but he didn’t mean it.  

“The grenades, not the controller,” Ray explained.  Michael laughed, hard.

“Too bad we didn’t get each other?”

“Gav would be so easy,” Ray continued.  “Anything with gold paint slapped on it.”

“And for Geoff, you’d just have to get him booze,” Michael agreed.  Ray hummed in agreement.

“Ryan is so sure I picked him, he’s been dropping incredibly non-subtle hints about everything he wants for two weeks,” Ray complained.  “Every time we go into a store, ‘Boy, wouldn’t I be disappointed if I got this for Christmas’.”

“You’re not going to get him something anyway?” Michael asked.

“No?  That’s not how secret santa works,” Ray frowned.

“Yeah, but it’s you guys,” Michael shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, you’re kind of a Big Deal.”

“I’m pretty sure I understand the rules of Secret Santa, dude,” Ray said.  “Plus, even if I had picked him, I’d just print him out a meme and put it in a card.  That’s the way it works with me and him.”

Needless to say, that conversation didn’t help Michael in the slightest.  What did you get for someone who only expressed vague interests and never favorites?

*

Jack was taking inventory of the cupboards and refrigerator, because as the self-proclaimed resident Mom, she’d put herself in charge of trying to make the Lads eat healthier. They were going to get heart disease before they turned 30 at the rate they kept consuming fast food.  One cupboard at the top left was labeled ‘Ryan’ (with a tiny ‘also Ray’ scribbled underneath it).  She’d never been in that one, as it wasn’t her business what Ryan was eating, but she opened it anyway.  The contents were very predictable.  Half a dozen cans of diet coke, a partially eaten bag of Flipz, and a few packages of ramen that Jack were pretty sure had belonged to Ray when he’d moved in and had been there ever since.  The rest of the cupboard was completely empty.  It’d be a nice gesture in the spirit of Christmas and general camaraderie to fill it up for him, right?  What did Ryan even like?

Jack closed the cupboard and continued inventorying the kitchen, but when she’d finished and was headed out, she still had a big question mark next to Ryan’s name on her pad of paper.  She sighed, knowing the solution to the problem.  Jack pulled out her phone to text Ray.  She knew he was in the penthouse somewhere, but it was a big place and he knew how to hide.  It took five minutes for Ray to stump into the kitchen, annoyed.

“What’s up?” he asked, wiping sleep out of his eyes.  It was 1 in the afternoon.

“You’re coming grocery shopping with me,” Jack announced.

“Why?  I don’t know how to cook,” Ray said.

“You don’t get out enough,” Jack told him, grabbing her wallet and stuffing it in her pocket before picking up the keys to the blue Entity XF she loved.  “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Your definition of fun is warped,” Ray muttered, but followed her into the elevator anyway.

Jack’s suspicions that Ray would know exactly what to get for Ryan proved correct, even without prompting, as Ray kept wandering back to Jack and the cart with items from halfway across the store, saying things like “Rye loves this type of soup,” or “Can I get these chocolates?  I’ll split them with Ryan”.  The variety of items seemed so random that even Jack couldn’t keep track of the things Ray would bring.

*

Jeremy was the newest to the crew, so it didn’t surprise him how much he didn’t know about Ryan.  He’d been outside of the crew for a long time, watching them pull off jobs on the TV and wishing he could be as awesome as he thought they were.  Occasionally Jeremy would catch Weasel News’ live broadcasts of the police chasing them around town.  The Vagabond would always charge straight into danger and emerge laughing almost satanically.  Any stray officers that he hadn’t caught in his initial explosion would be sniped by BrownMan, across the street, hidden on a rooftop.  What a dynamic duo.

When Jeremy actually got into the crew, through a series of happy accidents (not actually involving Bob Ross), he was over the moon, but it was about a thousand times more terrifying than he ever expected it would be.  Ryan lurked with his skull mask on in dark corners of the penthouse at 4am, Michael got angry and chucked bombs off the balcony at least twice a week, and the sheer amount of inside jokes he only vaguely understood was just overwhelming.

The Lads constantly teased him that if he messed up a heist, Geoff was going to kick him out (even though Geoff assured him that wasn’t true).  There was an almost constant onslaught of practical jokes, mostly from the Lads, but Ryan as well.  Then finally, one night, they actually full-on pretended to kidnap him – well, actually did kidnap him – and brought him to a remote location in South Los Santos.  After thoroughly scaring the shit out of him, the Lads inducted him as one of their own.  He’d made it.

“Plus, we think Ray is going to leave the Lads to join the R&R Connection full time,” Michael had joked.

Still, after somehow winning the approval of the Lads, Geoff, and #1 Mom Jack Pattillo, Jeremy was still at a loss as to how to even start a conversation with Ryan.  Sure, they played video games together and became battle buddies, but what kind of things did Ryan do for fun… besides murder? What movies did he like to watch? Was he secretly a giant weeb? SuperFan Jeremy Dooley really wanted to know.

“You know Ryan, right?” Jeremy asked Ray.

“I’m sensing a trend,” Ray said, side-eyeing his accomplice.  They were both in an unmarked SUV that Ray was driving away from a quick burglary at a gas station Geoff had put them up to as a diversion for the real burglary at the liquor store.  They were supposed to lead the cops around for a while, and car chases without grenade launchers were boring.

“What?”

“Why has everyone been asking me what I know about Ryan lately?” Ray asked.  “It’s really weird.  Just ask him yourself.”

“Gav said not to ask Ryan questions,” Jeremy confessed.  

“Don’t ask him questions that make him want to put your head on a spike, simple,” Ray shrugged.

This information was not helpful to Jeremy.

*

Gavin had a habit of asking inane questions, and unfortunately Geoff had a habit of indulging him in them.  Gavin always seemed to have an infinite number of questions preloaded at any given time, ready to shoot them at unsuspecting individuals.  

But Gavin didn’t ask questions to Ryan.  Not since The Incident™.

Ryan hadn’t been with the crew for too long at that point, maybe a few months, and he’d been politely answering Gavin’s questions up to that point, but for some reason, he snapped on this one, and he wasn’t even a part of the original question.

It was something about flipping a coin, and the original premise was that if you correctly called the coin flip, you could have sex with anyone you wanted for the rest of your life, but if you didn’t, then you had to have sex with Bam Bam Bigelow.  By the way, he died in 2007, but for this hypothetical, he would be resurrected.  And you get three coin flips to correctly call it.  Which is pretty decent odds.  Ryan got pulled in halfway through for his math skills, probably misheard or misinterpreted the question, and it turned into a debate that lasted months. Both Ryan and Gavin could easily be provoked with just the words, “but if you flip a coin three times…” and no one wanted to listen to them both insist they were right anymore.

One of the most iconic questions ever asked was that if Ryan was given some kind of astronomical amount of money, would he kill Ray every morning for the rest of their lives if there was a 100% chance that Ray would respawn good as new 20 minutes later. Ryan had responded with, “I hope you guys don’t mind waking up to gunshots,” and Ray had walked in at that point. Gavin had explained the whole premise to him, appalled for Ryan’s sanity and their relationship if Ryan would kill Ray every single day for the rest of their lives for money.  Ray had snorted and replied with, “he better take that money, and he better fuckin split it with me.  You gonna pay up, or?”  And Gavin didn’t ask questions about the pair of them anymore.  

Ray and Ryan had been a duo before they’d joined Fake AH, bringing the crew from three members up to five (then Michael had come along after).  No one ever questioned their relationship or the nature of it.  In fact, Gavin was the only one who had ever gotten close, and he didn’t understand these two apparent sociopaths, yet with such a deep bond between them.  He accepted pretty early on that asking questions to the pair of them was only going to scare him.  

(That’s not even to mention the time Gavin asked Ryan if, hypothetically, he could take all of Geoff’s money by touching Geoff’s penis with his lips, and every single person in the penthouse immediately agreed without hesitation, and Geoff started locking his bedroom door.)

Gavin would say he knew three things about Ryan, for sure, which were 1, that he would not hesitate to murder a crewmate for money, 2, he became very mingey when asked questions, and 3, he was shite at probabilities.

“Gav, c’mon, you gotta know something,” Michael whined.  “What the hell do you get a guy for secret santa?”

“I dunno, boi,” Gavin said, scuffing his trainers on the pavement, or whatever dumb British words he was constantly trying to pass off as real.  “I wish I got someone easy like Geoff.”

“Yeah, fucking so do I!” Michael agreed.  “Who’d you get?”

“I can’t say,” Gavin said.

“Did you get the bullshit lecture too?  I gave up on that.  Ray wouldn’t help me out, you gotta be able to give me something,” Michael begged.

“Give him three coins,” Ray suggested through their comms, reminding the two of them that Ray and Jeremy could hear their entire conversation.

“Shut up,” Michael snapped. “Are we ready for this or what?”

“Yeah, on three,” Jeremy agreed.

“Wait, on three or after three?” Gavin asked.

“On three, Jesus, he just said,” Ray rolled his eyes.

“I’m going now,” Michael shot back, chucking a bomb at the building.

*

Geoff was the leader of the crew, and therefore he knew everything there was to know about his crew, or at least he liked to think.  In truth, he didn’t know much more about Ryan than anyone else did.  He did his research, though, before hiring the pair of them.  Because BrownMan and Vagabond had always been a double act, hadn’t they?

R&R had a pretty slick gimmick running for them.  A sniper and a total wild card?  They could do anything together.  The first time Geoff had noticed they were anything other than a pair of hooligans running around doing petty theft, he’d actually accidentally been a witness to one of their crimes.  

It was genius.  Ryan casually opened the door of a shop, one shot from a suppressed sniper rifle a safe distance away, and suddenly there he was in an empty store with the cops none the wiser.  By the time police arrived on the scene, Ryan had cracked the registers (and sometimes the safe) for the money, and both of them were en route to their next location.  There were 20 stores in LS that kept cash (most had gone to credit only because of the high crime rates), and R&R hit every single one of them.

Geoff had been casually staking a joint for a heist from a nearby roof when he’d seen them do it. Just pull of a job in one bullet. He had to have them.  Who were they?

Considering the sheer amount of intel LSPD had on them, the fuzz sure did know absolutely nothing true or useful whatsoever.  Every time they’d hauled R&R in for questioning, they’d never gotten an English word out of Ryan, and Ray generally spoke only in memes and refused to refer to officers by their real names, instead assigning each of them a new name that sometimes changed three times in a conversation.  Not a single one of their crimes could ever have been pinned to either of them, mostly because fiery explosions tend to conceal evidence fairly well.

So when Geoff finally devised a plan to approach R&R with the intent of asking (bribing) them to join Fake AH, he wasn’t surprised to find out that they were totally different from what he’d expected.  Well, Ray was almost exactly what he’d expected.  Barely out of his teens, total memelord, only owns one pair of sneakers… Gavin would love him.  Ryan was still a total wild card.  He was charming but nerdy.  His eyes seemed to say ‘you are safe here’ but crackled with murder.  His body language seemed to say ‘yes you called this meeting and I am compliant’ but also ‘you are the one being interrogated here Geoffrey’. Ray did 90% of the talking in their meeting and 0% of the paying attention.  Geoff and Ryan stood over the counter in the Fake’s penthouse (it took a lot of convincing – a few hundred grand worth of convincing – to get them to agree to a meeting in the penthouse) talking business while Ray sat on the couch playing on his DS seemingly not giving a fuck about the meeting at all, yet answering every question intuitively as though he was trying to ace some kind of verbal SAT test.  Jack was casually in the kitchen cooking dinner as Geoff’s backup.  (Geoff wanted them to feel comfortable, but not too comfortable, and Jack was an intimidating woman when she wanted to be – but only when or if she wanted to be.)

What did Geoff learn about R&R in that meeting?  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  They were an amazing duo, and they were going to rise to the top with or without Fake AH.  But Geoff really wanted it to be with Fake AH.  So what does Geoff Ramsey do when he has a problem?  He throws money at it.  And they accepted.  

And that’s the story of how Geoff Ramsey is the leader of his crew, but still knows next to nothing about Ryan Haywood.

*

“You can stop dropping hints, Rye, I didn’t get you for secret santa,” Ray finally burst out, exasperated, as his phone received yet another casual ‘Ryan wants you to see this product!’ email.  “I got Jack.”

“You can’t tell who you got, that’s cheating!” Ryan exclaimed.  “What about honor and responsibility?”

“Boy, Geoff really ran that one into the ground, didn’t he?” Ray rolled his eyes.  “What the hell do I get for Jack?”

“Get her a gift card to Ponsonby’s or Pampered Chef or something,” Ryan suggested.  “OR!  You could carefully construct some kind of message spelled out on the ground such that you can only see it from a helicopter!  That’s creative!”

“That’s a lot of work,” Ray whined, scrolling through all the emails Ryan had sent him to that point of things he wanted for Christmas.

“It would show you really care.”

“Do you ever think about, maybe, opening up to the rest of the crew, telling them literally any factoid about yourself?” Ray asked.

“I tell them stuff about me all the time, it’s not my fault they don’t listen,” Ryan said.

“I mean, yeah, I know,” Ray agreed. “It’s just… people have really started to notice how little they really know about you in the last few weeks.  Do you think you could just walk around the living room and talk really loudly about what kinds of food you like or something?  I don’t want to go grocery shopping again.”

“I guess so…” Ryan agreed.

*

“What’s this?” Michael frowned at the gift-wrapped box Ray had shoved into his hands.  “It’s fuckin heavy.”

“That is what I got you to give to Ryan for Christmas.  You’re welcome,” Ray replied, walking away before Michael could protest any further. Leaving Michael’s room for Jack’s, Ray knocked and was allowed entry.

“What’s up Ray?” Jack asked, looking up from her computer screen where she was diligently researching the available vehicle mods for the upcoming releases.

“Your real present is under the tree, but I got you something extra… from Ryan,” Ray said, holding out an envelope addressed to her.  She frowned at him, taking it and opening it, unfolding the paper inside. “It’s Ryan’s grocery list.  I know that’s why you asked me to go with you. No one genuinely enjoys my company enough to invite me out with them.  I get it.  I’m more approachable than he is.  I know that.”

“Come on, Ray, that’s not true, I had a really good time when we went out,” Jack replied.

“Well… either way,” Ray shrugged.  “I know it’s a long list, but he doesn’t really have favorites, so… you know.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “I’m honestly touched that you’d think to get this for me.  I wish I had something for you.”

“Again, your real present is under the tree,” Ray reaffirmed.  “You just, uh, keep being the cool Crew Mom™ and I’ll see you later.” He ran from her room before he could be any more awkward.  Jeremy’s room was next on his list of places to visit.  Lil J was, predictably, watching YouTube when Ray walked in.  Lil J didn’t get knocks.  Lil J got walked in on.  Lil J was not really done with being hazed yet.  “Hey.”

“Hey!” Jeremy replied. “What’s up Ray?  Am I late for something?  Lads Heist?  Shopping Montage?  Are you here to kill me?”

“You know how we were on that job the other day, and you asked about Ryan?” Ray asked.

“I didn’t mean it, please don’t kill me,” Jeremy said, eyes very wide.

“You’re new, and I sorta get that, but – please, I am definitely not going to kill you,” Ray said. Jeremy visibly relaxed. “Today.”  Jeremy tensed slightly again.  Ray laughed.  “Ryan likes talking to people.  He loves to tell stories about his childhood back in Georgia.  Ask him anything you want to know.  Seriously.  He’ll tell you.  And if he doesn’t want to answer a question, he’ll tell you.  He’s not going to threaten you with bodily harm or kill you over a few questions.  You’re not Gavin.”  Jeremy laughed nervously.  “Plus, don’t tell the others, but I think you’re his favorite.”

“Ryan doesn’t have favorites,” Jeremy replied.

“Well… he has Diet Coke,” Ray said.  

“And you.”

“What?  No,” Ray deflected.  “I mean, yeah, we’ve been together a long time, but we’re just crewmates. We look out for each other.”

“Okay, sure,” Jeremy laughed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ray asked, frowning.

“If that’s your story, then sure,” Jeremy continued to laugh.  “Sure, there’s nothing going on with you and Ryan.”

“What do you think is going on with me and Ryan?” Ray asked, continuing his confusion.

“You’re… you know…” Jeremy said, starting to get confused.  He’d thought this was another one of the Lads hazing things, but Ray really didn’t seem to know what was going on.  “…a couple.”

“A couple of what?” Ray asked.  Jeremy stared at him.

“No, like…  a couple.  Are you two not… like, half-married?”

Ray stared. Shocked.  Shook.  What was going on?  Did everyone think he and Ryan were… dating?  Fucking? In Love?  Ray didn’t even reply to Jeremy, just walked out of his room and back to his and Ryan’s.

“We share a room,” Ray said to Ryan, who was sitting on the bed reading.

“Yes,” Ryan agreed, confused.  “We always have.  Are you okay?”

“We share a room, we go out together four times a week, we have a combined cupboard in the kitchen, we’re always paired together on heists, and above anyone else in the crew, we’d defend each other with our lives,” Ray said, still shook.  He was aware of Ryan’s presence in the room, but didn’t have the mental capacity to focus his eyes so everything in the room was sort of blurry.

“Are you okay?” Ryan repeated.

“I… I don’t know?  My life is crashing down.  I think I need help,” Ray said, walking forward to the bed and crawling next to Ryan.  Ryan put an arm around him, pulling him to his chest, and continued reading his book, knowing Ray needed to just breathe and calm down for a bit.  Ray actually ended up falling asleep with his head on Ryan’s chest, as he so often did.  When he woke up, he blinked, confused, cracked his neck, and started looking around.

“Feeling better?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah… I just… It was weird,” Ray said.  “It’s like… I guess I should have known the rest of the crew thinks we’re, like, in  super gay love or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, they do think that,” Ryan agreed.  “After two years, I don’t know what it says about us or them that they still think that.”

“To be fair, we share a room, go out together four nights a week, and defend each other with our lives,” Ray commented.

“Yeah, but… I don’t know,” Ryan shrugged.

“That must be why everyone thinks the joke about me saving my virginity for the day you can actually fuck an xbox is so funny,” Ray finally put together.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed.

“Are you in super gay love with me?” Ray asked.  Ryan shrugged.

“I wouldn’t want to screw up what we have,” he replied.

“What if I did?  Want to,” Ray almost tripped over his sentence.

Ryan kissed him in response, ducking his head to meet Ray’s, as Ray was still leaning on him.

“Oh, it’s ruined now,” Ray said sarcastically when Ryan pulled away, even going so far as to dramatically start leaving the bed.  “I’m moving in with Michael.”  Ryan laughed and pulled him tighter to him.  Ray put his head back on Ryan’s chest and smiled.

“Merry Christmas,” Ryan said quietly.

“Christmas isn’t for like four days,” Ray replied.

“Yeah, but I have your present right here,” Ryan said, pulling a small red box with a bow on it from the nightstand.

“Oh?  You got me for secret santa?  And you didn’t even have to ask anyone what to get me, I bet. Lucky,” Ray said, taking the box from Ryan and popping it open.  Immediately, Ray stopped talking.  It was a necklace with two charms, a red rose and a black skull.  Objectively, it was pretty badass, and Ray totally would have accepted it any day, said ‘sweet necklace, bro’ and worn it every day for the rest of his life.  But since the whole Ordeal Of Thirty Seconds Ago™, he wasn’t even sure what to say.  

BrownMan and Vagabond had been partners in crime for six years.  Four before Fake AH, and two with Fake AH.  The red rose and the black skull had been graffitied on the walls of Los Santos together for six years.  It was something they sometimes joked about, like getting friendship bracelets or matching tattoos or something.  They’d considered starting a crew for a couple weeks once, and Ryan had created them a crew logo with the images easily.

Ray and Ryan, though? It should have been weird, shouldn’t it? To take their relationship from basically platonic  to romantic? But it really wasn’t.  It felt like… why haven’t we been doing this for six years?  It felt like… maybe we have been in super gay love for six years and we’re both idiots?

“I do love you,” Ray told Ryan as Ryan put Ray’s necklace on for him.  “Maybe I always have.”

“Isn’t that kind of cliché?” Ryan asked.  

“Yeah, you know that clichéd story of two fucking murderers being partners for six years and finally realizing they were in Super Gay Love™ the whole time,” Ray said sarcastically. “Yeah, a total cliché.  Every single Lifetime movie.  People are bored of hearing about it.”

“You don’t always have to point out how wrong I am,” Ryan told him.  “You can let some of them go.”

“Never have, never will,” Ray said stubbornly.

*

Geoff liked to think he was fairly observant.  No one else would ever tell him any differently.  (They wouldn’t dare.)

When Ray and Ryan sprinted into the kitchen on Christmas morning to get some of the enormous breakfast Jack had cooked, Geoff couldn’t say there was anything different about them. Ray had showed his necklace off a few days before, saying Ryan just couldn’t wait for Christmas day to give it to him, and blushing.  

Ryan bumped Ray purposefully out of the way of the fridge with his hip, grinning.  Ray blushed.  Ray blushed? Did Ray blush?  Was that a thing Ray did?  Then he pouted.  Ray pouted? Did Ray pout?  Was that a thing that Ray did?  Ryan laughed and pressed a kiss into Ray’s hair.  Ray blushed again.  Maybe blushing was something Ray did do?

Wait, did Ryan always kiss Ray’s hair?  Everyone knew they were a couple, but there was little to no actual evidence of them putting on public displays of affection.  

Geoff Ramsey was very observant.  He observed this.  And he came to this conclusion:  Ray Narvaez Jr, like many other humans, blushes, pouts, and gets hair kisses.

After breakfast, the crew each opened their gifts, with the exception of Ray, who sat in Ryan’s lap, as usual, and played with his necklace with a dumb grin on his face.

Jack opened her gift from Ray, it was a sweet vintage record player she’d pointed out in the window of an antique shop once while they were on a heist.  Ray and Ryan had been out enjoying the Christmas lights and fake snow, when they walked past the store and Ray remembered she’d said she wished she had one.  So he and Ryan had immediately held up the shop and taken it.  Who the fuck paid for stuff if they didn’t have to?

Jack’s gift was for Geoff. She’d gotten him three bottles of very expensive whiskey and a set of glasses with his initials engraved on them. “If any of you motherfuckers breaks one of these glasses, I’ll punch you in the dick,” Geoff warned the rest of the crew.  Michael made a joke about how Geoff should really keep the pleasure of breaking the glasses for himself.  Geoff threw a punch at him and Michael ducked.  The punch hit Gavin, and everyone laughed.

Geoff had drawn Jeremy, and known exactly what to get him.  (Because Geoff is very observant.  Obviously.) Jeremy was very pleased with his gift, four colors of neon hair dye, a package of gold star stickers, a bright green remote control toy monster truck, and a keychain with two things on it: a pewter cutout of the state of Massachusetts and a key to a Grotti X80 Proto, painted in Jeremy’s favorite ‘Rimmy Tim’ colors.  Michael screamed in protest.  “Welcome to the big leagues, Lil J,” Geoff said.

Even though that was clearly the big winner at the gathering, Jeremy presented his gift to Gavin hastily before excusing himself from the action around the coffee table to play with his remote control monster truck.  He’d gotten him a few different gold tone makeup things that Gavin had seen various advertisements for and whined about wanting for two straight weeks. Gavin gushed in all of his non-real British words about how great Jeremy was for ten straight minutes before Jack cut him off and made him present his gift.

Gavin had gotten Michael. They’d been best friends for so long, anyone would think Gavin would know exactly what Michael would want, but he hadn’t had a clue.  Weapons and bombs were too simple.  He didn’t need a new car, not since Geoff had bought him the chrome Adder (and therefore really had no room to complain about Jeremy’s new car, besides the fact that X80s were twice as expensive as Adders).  What did you get your best friend for Christmas?

“Gav, this box is empty,” Michael told him.

“Yeah, I couldn’t fit it,” Gavin said.  Michael frowned at him.

“Okay…” Michael said with a shrug.  “Where is it?”

“Oh, um… Dammit, hang on,” Gavin pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping away. Everyone was perplexed.  There was a knock on the penthouse door.  Everyone but Gavin could be seen trying to subtly count how many of them were already there, thus trying to figure out who was at the door.  “You may want to get that, boi,” Gavin threw out, still texting.

Michael, perplexed, put his empty box down on the coffeetable, got up from the couch and jogged up the few stairs to the penthouse door.  Throwing open the door, he saw –

“Lindsay.”

“Ayo,” Lindsay and Gavin said almost at the same time.

“You’re here,” Michael said, shocked.  “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”  He hugged her tightly, still standing in the doorway.

“As it turns out, breaking someone out of prison is harder than it looks on paper,” Gavin told the rest of the crew.  Lindsay had been in federal lockup for months on a (mostly factual) counterfeiting charge. Of all the things the feds were going to get on the Fakes, of course it was a fucking counterfeiting charge.  Instead of keeping her in Los Santos where the crew could easily have broken her out, they’d taken her to Washington, and every attempt at hacking even the security system at the place they were holding her had resulted in a completely fried computer on the Fakes’ end.  Michael had pretty much given up all hope of ever seeing her again, and that wasn’t something you lost easily.

“How the fuck did you do that?!” Geoff asked Gavin, voice cracking in his shock.  Gavin just gave Geoff a smug look of ‘do not try to one-up me for the best present of the year, Geoffrey’.  Michael and Lindsay were still hugging in the doorway, having a whispered conversation no one else could hear but everyone assumed it was something like ‘I love you so much don’t you fucking dare ever get arrested again I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you out we tried so hard linds I love you never leave me again’.

“Only one gift left, lads, who’s it for?” Gavin changed the subject.

“It’s from Michael to Ryan,” Ray said, sliding onto the couch from Ryan’s lap so he could retrieve his present.  “I’m guessing he won’t care if he’s not here to see you open it.”  Ryan picked up the box to put it on his lap.

“It’s heavy,” he commented. Ray nodded, rolling his eyes. Ryan pulled the paper off and started laughing.  The box was a 24 pack of Diet Coke.  Nothing else, just that.  “Wow, this is the best present anyone could get me.  Seriously.  It’s perfect.”

“No one knows what to get you!  You don’t have favorites!” Ray exclaimed.

“Diet Coke!” Ryan protested.

“Yeah, Diet Coke and Ray, that’s all anyone knows about you,” Geoff said.  “I’m fine with it.  The longer I don’t know what’s going on in your head, the longer I can continue sleeping at night.”

Michael and Lindsay finally joined the rest of them in the living room, but not willing to separate themselves, as they sat down on either side of Gavin still holding hands.

“Thanks boi,” Michael said to Gavin.  Gavin just nodded.  He already knew Michael was grateful.  No thanks required.  It’s not like he’d worked on it double triple extra overtime for a month.  Michael spotted the case of Diet Coke still in Ryan’s lap.  “Really, Ray, Ryan’s entire life story at your disposal and Diet Coke was in that box?  I could have fucking come up with that.  Last time I trust you to do anything.”

Everyone started sending accusatory looks and phrases at Ray for helping Michael cheat at secret santa.

“Really?  I’m the one who gets yelled at for cheating at secret santa?” Ray asked.  “Geoff had to call Gavin and ask him about, and I quote, ‘Rimothy Timothy’ colors. Jack had Jeremy help her steal that whiskey.  I’m willing to bet Gavin didn’t fucking break Lindsay out of prison without a substantial amount of help.  Ryan gave me this necklace four fucking days ago.  Michael was the one who begged me to help him, but no, I’m the one getting the blame.  Sure, fine.”

“It’s a great present and it doesn’t matter if it came from you or Michael,” Ryan told him.  “And you keep me out of this.  I 3D printed that necklace myself.”

“When are you guys gonna get married already?” Gavin asked them with a frown.

“Yeah, Matt and Trevor started a bet about Ryan proposing for Christmas,” Jeremy said.

“Shh, that’s New Year’s,” Ryan joked.

“Christ,” Ray declared. “At least take me to dinner first.” The joke confused everyone else in the room, but Ryan laughed, pulling Ray back into his lap, the Diet Coke banished to the floor.  “Okay, maybe I’ll settle for delivery.”

Geoff Ramsey prided himself in being a very observant man.  When Geoff Ramsey observed something, it was observed.  Boom. Immediately.  Nothing gets by Geoff.  Except, apparently, Gavin breaking Lindsay out of prison, and the fact that Geoff couldn’t for the life of him name one other time he’d ever seen Ray and Ryan actually kiss.  He knew they must have, he had memories of it, but they were probably clouded over with alcohol or something that was preventing him from accessing them.

Geoff knew.  He’d observed it.  It had been observed.  Maybe he sometimes forgot stupid shit like who the fuck Rimmy Tim was, or where he left his car keys, but he knew exactly three things about Ryan Haywood:  1, Gavin was absolutely not allowed to ask him questions anymore, 2, Ryan was on this earth to drink diet coke and kick ass (watch out when he runs out of diet coke), and 3, Ryan Haywood, the Mad King, would ride or die for that punkass sniper with the pink guns and checkerboard vans.